This is continuing on from the previous chapter
Chapter 4: Awakening in the Forest
Time moved forward.
USJ became a story whispered in hallways. The broken concrete was repaired. the dome rebuilt. Official reports were filed, altered, sanitized. But beneath the surface, things had changed.
The U.A. Sports Festival arrived like a storm of lights and noise, a whirlwind of talent, energy, and spectacle. Luffy treated it exactly like what it was.
"A giant fight tournament?!" he laughed, eyes sparkling. "That sounds awesome!"
He charged through obstacle courses, slingshotting himself over entire sections. In cavalry battles, he used Gear Second in short bursts, snatching headbands before anyone could react. In one-on-one matches, he fought with reckless enthusiasm, earning roars from the crowd.
He didn't win the festival.
But he left an impression.
Commentators struggled to explain him. Pro heroes leaned forward in their seats when he accelerated. Teachers quietly noted how he pushed past physical strain without hesitation.
During final exams, he barely passed the written portion. Combat, however, was different. Paired against a pro hero in a simulated capture-and-escape scenario, Luffy adapted mid-fight, bouncing attacks unpredictably and overwhelming defenses through sheer tenacity. He passed not by precision, but by refusal to fall.
Still—after each battle, something lingered. A sensation.
During the Sports Festival semifinals, there had been a moment. A split second before an opponent attacked from his blind side, he had moved instinctively. Too instinctively.
During the final exams, when a pro hero swung down with overwhelming force, Luffy had felt something tighten inside his chest just before impact. Like a whisper. Like the air itself nudging him. He couldn't explain it. So he ignored it.
Until the forest.
---
The training camp was deep in the mountains, surrounded by dense forest and uneven terrain. Perfect for survival training. Perfect for growth.
The Wild, Wild Pussycats wasted no time pushing Class 1-A beyond their comfort zones. The moment they stepped off the bus, the ground itself turned hostile—massive earth beasts lunging from the forest floor.
Luffy grinned.
"Finally!"
He launched himself forward.
"Gomu Gomu no—"
The beast swiped. Luffy ducked—but he hadn't seen the claw. He felt it. His body tilted just enough for the attack to graze past his cheek instead of tearing through it. He paused mid-motion.
"…Huh?"
Another beast lunged from behind. Without looking—he moved. Not consciously. His body twisted before the sound even reached him. The claw missed entirely.
Luffy blinked.
"That's weird."
The forest grew chaotic. Students scattered. Earth creatures roared. One leapt from the canopy above. This time, Luffy closed his eyes. For a split second—the world sharpened. Not visually. But spatially. He felt pressure in the air. Intent. Motion. The exact arc of the descending attack. His hand snapped upward. He grabbed the beast midair.
"Gotcha."
He slammed it into the ground with a laugh. Far away, one of the Pussycats narrowed her eyes.
"…His instincts are evolving."
Later that evening, after hours of relentless combat training, Luffy sat alone near the treeline, staring at his hands.
"When that thing attacked…" he muttered, clenching his fist.
There had been another moment earlier. One of the larger beasts had charged him head-on, teeth bared. He had thrown a punch. And for the briefest instant—his fist felt… heavier. Denser. Not inflated like Gear Third. Not accelerated like Gear Second. Just—solid. The impact sounded different. The beast had flown farther than expected.
Luffy frowned. He threw a normal punch at a tree. THUD. Then he focused—not on strength, not on speed, but on that sensation. That compression inside. That tightening in his will. He punched again. CRACK. The bark splintered deeper. For a split second, his knuckles looked darker. Not visually obvious, but the force had changed.
Luffy stared at his hand.
"…That's new."
He stood up, closed his eyes again. The forest breathed around him. Leaves shifted. Insects buzzed. Students trained in the distance. But underneath it all—there were pulses. Intent. Movement. Presence.
When a branch snapped twenty meters behind him—he moved before the sound finished. Dodging without sight. His eyes opened wide. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Hehehe…"
He didn't know the words for it. Didn't know the history. Didn't know pirates across the sea once called it something else entirely. But something inside him—older than training, older than quirks—was waking up.
The beginning of something that didn't rely on muscle or elasticity. But on will.
Deep in the forest, as the sun dipped lower and shadows stretched long, Monkey D. Luffy laughed quietly to himself.
"Guess I'm getting stronger again."
---
The forest eventually thinned. Exhausted, bruised, and covered in dirt, Class 1-A stumbled into the clearing where the lodge stood—a large wooden structure nestled between towering trees and rocky cliffs. Some students collapsed immediately. Others groaned in relief.
Luffy dropped flat on his back in the grass.
"That was awesome," he declared between heavy breaths. Several classmates stared at him in disbelief.
The Wild, Wild Pussycats herded them toward the lodge. Dinner preparations, baths, recovery—all blurred into background noise. Laughter, complaints about spice levels, arguments over portions.
Luffy ate enough for three people. Then wandered off.
The evening air was cooler near the water. He followed the sound of rushing current until he reached a rocky stream cutting through the forest. There, seated alone on a large stone overlooking the water, was a small boy. Arms crossed. Expression cold. Kota Izumi.
Luffy tilted his head.
"You're not training?"
Kota didn't look at him.
"I don't want to."
Luffy walked closer, hands in his pockets, studying him openly.
"You live here?"
Silence. The boy's jaw tightened.
"Heroes are stupid."
Luffy blinked. "…Huh?"
"They pretend to save people," Kota muttered, eyes fixed on the rushing water. "They just get in the way. If they weren't around, villains wouldn't show up."
Luffy scratched his cheek. "That doesn't make sense."
Kota shot him a glare. "You wouldn't get it."
Luffy stepped onto the same rock, balancing easily. "Try me."
Kota's fists clenched. "They died."
The words came out sharp and flat.
"My parents," Kota continued, "They were heroes. They fought some villain. And they lost." His voice didn't waver—but his shoulders did.
"They smiled. Just like you all do."
Silence settled between them, heavy but not suffocating.
Behind them, one of the Pussycats approached quietly—Mandalay. She sighed softly.
"We were hoping he'd open up eventually."
Luffy glanced back. Mandalay stepped forward gently.
"Kota's parents were pro heroes," she explained. "Water-type quirks. They were killed in the line of duty protecting civilians."
Kota's eyes darkened. "They chose to fight," he said. "They didn't have to."
"They chose to save people," Mandalay corrected softly.
"And they died for it!" The words cracked.
The forest seemed quieter afterward. Luffy stared at the boy for a long moment. No grin. No laughter. Just steady observation.
"So you hate heroes," Luffy said finally.
"Yes."
"Even if they save people?"
"They're selfish."
Luffy considered that. Then he stepped off the rock, crouching slightly so he was eye level.
"My grandpa wanted me to be something," he said casually. "Didn't listen."
Kota frowned. "I don't care what heroes are supposed to be."
Luffy's grin returned—wide, unrestrained. "I just do what I want."
"And what's that?" Kota snapped.
"I'm gonna be the greatest hero."
There was no doubt in his voice. No hesitation. Just simple, overwhelming certainty.
Kota stared. "…You'll die."
"Maybe," Luffy shrugged. "But I'm not gonna stop."
The words weren't dramatic. They weren't speeches. They were just truth.
Mandalay watched carefully, saying nothing. Kota looked away first.
"You're stupid."
"Probably."
"But I'm still gonna get stronger."
Luffy turned and started walking back toward the lodge. After a few steps, he paused. "Oh yeah," he added over his shoulder. "If something bad shows up, I'll beat it."
Kota didn't respond. But his fingers tightened slightly against the stone.
As Luffy disappeared into the trees, Mandalay knelt beside the boy.
"He doesn't smile the same way others do," she said quietly. Kota stared at the rushing river. "…He's still an idiot."
Yet for the first time since the conversation began—his expression wasn't entirely closed off.
And deeper in the forest, unseen eyes had already begun to gather. The night was coming.
---
Morning came cold and sharp in the mountains. Mist clung low to the ground, weaving between trees as Class 1-A assembled in a clearing scarred from the previous day's combat drills. The earth still bore dents and craters from unleashed quirks. Broken trunks leaned at awkward angles.
Aizawa stood at the front of the group, wrapped in fresh bandages, one arm secured but functional. His posture looked as lazy as ever. But his eyes were sharp.
"You all survived yesterday," he began flatly. "That's not the same as getting stronger."
A few students stiffened.
"You relied on what you already had. Instinct. Panic. Raw output." His gaze swept over them. "If a real villain had attacked, most of you would be dead."
Silence. Wind rustled through the trees.
"Power isn't the same as growth," Aizawa continued. "If your quirk output increases but your control, perception, and durability remain the same, you're still fragile." His gaze stopped on Luffy. "Especially you."
Luffy blinked. "Huh?"
"You break your limits recklessly," Aizawa said. "Gear transformations that strain your body. You push until something tears. That's not sustainable."
Luffy scratched his cheek. "But I won."
"You survived," Aizawa corrected. "Because the enemy was unprepared."
The class shifted slightly.
"You rely heavily on physical amplification. Speed and expansion. But you lack defensive reinforcement. And your awareness is inconsistent."
Luffy tilted his head. "…About that."
Aizawa paused. "What?"
Luffy flexed his fingers thoughtfully. "Sometimes I can feel stuff before it happens."
Several classmates glanced at him.
"Like… before someone attacks. It's not hearing. Not seeing." He frowned slightly. "It's like the air tightens."
Aizawa didn't interrupt.
"And when I punch sometimes," Luffy continued, clenching his fist, "it feels heavier. Not bigger. Just… harder." He looked down at his hand. "Like something's wrapping around it."
The clearing grew quieter.
Aizawa's expression didn't change—but something shifted in his gaze. Somewhere in the back of his memory, an old conversation resurfaced. Years ago, in a dim underground bar frequented by information brokers and retired villains. A man with scars along his arms had spoken of distant seas. Of fighters who didn't rely on quirks. Of something else. A will that hardens the body. A sense that sees without eyes. Most dismissed it as myth. Urban legend from foreign waters.
Aizawa had never fully believed it. Until USJ. Until the Nomu hesitated for a fraction of a second—and Luffy had capitalized instantly. Until the boy had struck with force that exceeded pure elasticity.
Aizawa adjusted his capture scarf slowly. "When did this start?"
"Sports Festival, kinda," Luffy replied. "But it's stronger here."
Aizawa nodded once. The mountains. High stress. Constant combat stimulus. It would make sense for something latent to begin surfacing under pressure.
"Listen carefully," Aizawa said, voice lowering slightly. "There are stories in certain circles. About individuals who develop abilities not classified as quirks."
The class stiffened.
"They're rare. Almost undocumented. Hard to measure."
Luffy's grin widened. "So I'm special?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Aizawa replied dryly. He stepped closer. "If what you're describing is real, it isn't something you trigger by accident. It requires discipline. Focus. Control."
Luffy blinked. "…Control?"
"Yes. You don't get stronger by exploding outward. You get stronger by refining inward."
He turned to address the rest of the class. "Training resumes as scheduled."
Then, back to Luffy:
"You. After dinner. Separate session."
Luffy perked up immediately. "Special training?"
"Yes. For getting stronger?"
"For not dying," Aizawa corrected.
The class dispersed into assigned drills, murmuring quietly.
As Luffy jogged off toward his group assignment, Aizawa remained still for a moment. If the legends were even partially true—then Luffy's ceiling wasn't just physical. It was tied to willpower itself. And will, unlike muscle, could be sharpened.
Aizawa exhaled slowly. "If it is what I think it is, then we train it properly."
High above, clouds drifted lazily across the sky, unaware that something far older than quirks had begun to stir within U.A.'s most reckless student.
---
So I got a bit motivated and decided to continue this, this is part 1, going to post part 2 once I refine it more
Once again tell me if I made any mistakes.
Thanks.