The first pink rays of a sunset filter weakly through the fog that has rolled in, and the smell of seaweed and fish guts is temporarily blown inland by the approaching cold of evening. Away from the bustle of shoreline trading stalls, Midoriya's red sneakers mark footprints in the sand heading away from the Rocks. By now he knows that cultists live in some of these caves to be close to their gods despite the danger of crashing waves. If the wind blows just right, he can hear chanting.

He's in his usual jeans and hoodie against the cold, but he's also bundled up with a thick red, yellow, and blue scarf in the colors of his favorite Hero (also his mentor). He wears thick hardware gloves and carries two sacks. The larger one is inorganic trash cleaned up from the beach. He will dispose of or recycle it properly. The other is anything useful that might be traded or given. Mostly he just finds interesting rocks and seashells.

He turns his head, curls irreparably tousled by the salt wind.

"Peter-kun? Did you make that clicking sound? ...Where are your shoes?"