Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your routine never changes. Up at seven, shower, breakfast, and into work by eight. Six days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, for years and years and years. From the moment you’re up to the moment you go through the office door, life is stagnant; and then again from the moment you leave well past falling asleep.

But, the second you clock in, everything is controlled chaos. The timer counts down how long you have to deal with madness and cruelty and suffering and frustration, stupidity, filth, inconsiderate jackasses, tragedy… You’ve never had a day at the animal shelter that didn’t manage to step on your spirit.

You are trapped in a cycle that eats you alive quietly.

And you are lucky, aren’t you? You’re so fortunate to be able to work with animals. Every other person who comes in will tell you the same clumsy sentiment. “I wish I could be around animals all the time.” “You get to play with puppies and kittens for a living? I’m so jealous!” “It’s like heaven being here!”

You love every creature who comes in with all your heart. The friendly ones who have no sense of boundary, the frightened ones who love you after weeks of time spent in the process of realizing you will never hurt them, the weird ones who might be from alien planets. You do everything you can for them. You pour yourself into their comfort and well-being. Even if it hurts to see them go, you hope from the bottom of your soul they all go to homes that provide the time and affection they need.

It’s the people you can’t stand.

Some are fine. Some might even be great, and helpful, and good adopters. But for every person you like, there’s a guarantee you’ll meet two assholes. Didn’t get their pet fixed and now she has kittens? Your problem now. Moving and didn’t think about where the dog was going to go? Your problem now. You’ve had this kitty for years and now he’s blind but you’re busy and won’t stick it out to let the poor thing be at home where it feels safe until his life is over? Your problem now. Didn’t train the puppy you got and now it’s big and has no manners and might bite people? Your problem now.

Every day.

Every fucking day.

You get paid in peanuts to deal with people who are angry, and selfish, and dumb, and outright cruel.

And heaven knows you can’t quit, because who would take this job after you? Somebody who doesn’t know what they’re doing? Somebody who doesn’t care?

This is your life. It never changes.

For one particular cat, the situation is much the same.

When you arrive at work, you hang your keys in a cabinet in the kitchen and then spend the better part of three hours cleaning. It’s a blessing that you are not here alone today; somebody else washes the kennels and feeds the dogs, so you have plenty of time to spiffy up the quarantine and cat rooms. The cleaning spray smells like pine when you refill your bottle, and you cut it with water. Management will only pay for so much every month. You make it last.

The air is working, but the smell of dirty litter boxes could suffocate. Kittens. They mewl and bat at you, displaying their toe-beans against the cage walls. Your poke and prod the pink feet, and one nips your finger. “Didn’t your mommy teach you to bury your messes? How rude~!” you tease.

You have enough litter and cat chow to set everything up properly. In spite of the little ones’ best efforts, you get their hold clean and packed with new toys and a spoonful of soft food each.

And the same for the next cage. The next four.

You’re glad for the babies. They are sure to get homes before long. Everyone loves cute kittens, happy animals, young companions. Before you know it, they’ll be gone and you’ll have entirely different litters running around your feet and biting your broom.

You move into the next room, to tend to the adult cats.

Their futures are a bit less certain. You’re thankful that this facility is “No Kill” by design, down to its very roots. Every one of your furry friends is happy and healthy, but some of them have been here nearly a year. You don’t understand it; they’re friendly, and funny, and each has a unique personality that makes them all the better.

Everyone has their time , you remind yourself. Every dog has their day. Every cat, too.

If you stop believing that, you’ll break to pieces.

You take your equipment back to the closet, wash the dishes, and notice your coworker is nowhere near as far along with the dogs. You know better than to help Juhi; the man likes things his way, and you’d be bumbling about by being in his presence. Just as well; he is a savant with dogs, but more clueless with people than anyone else you’ve met on this mortal plane.

You go to the kitchen. It isn’t a break-room so much as where you stock and store medicines that need refrigeration (along with lunches and the microwave for said lunches). The stepping stool has been kicked into a corner, and you guide it back to the edge of the fridge door. You reach up on top, out of your line of sight, and pat around until you feel the familiar fluff of your best friend.

“I’ve found you, Gudetama! Time to come down and play secretary with me.”

He pops his head into view and stares down, humorless. Even if cats could smile, Gudetama would look exactly the same. He licks his paw and smooths back his whiskers. He waits.

“You’re so spoiled,” you tease. From the cupboard where you’ve hidden your keys, you produce a plastic box filled with his favorite treats. “Shaky, shaky! Come on, you lazy boy. Won’t you come sit with me today?”

He stretches at his leisure and hops down to the counter, then the floor. His pace is relatively quick today; o ften, he will stop to take a nap on his way to the front desk. Today, he graces you with his presence. The little lord sits on your lap and allows you to pet him, so long as you continue to offer a steady supply of snacks.

Gudetama flicks his tail when you try to comb through it. His whole, slightly-orange body settles against your lap. He would appear to be melting but for the puffs and tufts that stick straight up.

“ Maybe it will be a quiet day.” You speak to Gude, but the message goes out to the universe because you know, without a doubt, Gudetama does not care about what you’re saying. If he spoke your language? H e would care even less. “ And we can just stay up here and I can pet you all day. Right?”

He meows, and it sounds like an old chain-smoker saying “meh”.

Good old Gudetama.

You have just settled into the chair when the door opens, and a man enters.

Your first instinct tells you he’ll be trouble.

In fairness, you feel that way with every unfamiliar person who comes into the front office.

This man has a sour expression, the kind you get with people who come in to the shelter just to complain about something. He’s not too cleaned up; hasn’t shaved in a couple days, his hair is down and it droops just past his shoulders. He wears all black, except for what he has around his neck . His scarf a light gray affair, and it’s probably the nicest thing he’s wearing. That said, you’ve seen ones exactly like it down at the drug store for less yen than a lip balm.

You paste your smile on. Your fake as hell, five-star customer service, what-a-nice-girl grin.

“Good morning, s ir. How can I help you?”

He hesitates, looking away, scratching the back of his head. You slip Gudetama another treat while you wait for this weird guy to figure out what he wants.

“I guess I’m here to see your cats.”

“Okay! Have you seen any of them online, or know about a specific one that caught your interest?”

“No… I just came to visit.”

A lookie-loo. Well, at least he doesn’t seem aggressive or anything.

“ Sure thing. Let me show you to them. I just need… a second… Come on, Gudetama,” you mutter. The cat is comfortable, claws digging into your pants. You lift him up gently, whispering in the hopes you don’t look too crazy, talking to a cat. “ I’ll be right back. Just stay here on the chair, okay?”

You swear he rolls his eyes. But to the chair it is.

“Come right this way! Would you like to see kittens or adult cats?”

The stranger is eyeing Gudetama. You can’t quite place the expression, but it reminds you of a child who sees a toy they’d like to play with in a store, but knows better than to ask their parent to buy it. He force s his attention away, back to you, and sighs. “Adults.”

A gentleman of few words.

You take him to the hallway, and to the big window where you can see the felines. Most of them are napping, but the orange-tabby brothers are causing trouble. That’s normal for them. Whenever they get too close to the matronly tortoiseshell, she smacks the whiskers off of them. You wish she would be nicer, but the young men need to find out one way or another not to be disruptive.

They’re just so sweet, all of them. You bite the inside of your lip as you space out, watching them slap a ball with a bell inside.

You have a customer.

When you look at him, though, he ha s a nearly identical look.

Huh.

“You’re welcome to go inside and visit with all of them. Just be careful of Ryuji, that striped guy over there. He makes a mad dash for the exit every time a door opens. Has no idea what to do when he gets out here, and usually he just passes out in the sink; still, be careful.”

“I’ll keep my eye on him,” he says, slipping inside.

To be safe, you spend a minute watching everyone interact. The man with the black hair seems fine so far, but you want to be certain. Nobody is allowed to be mean to your babies.

He’s laying on the floor, covered in cats.

The white, old Persian is draped over the customer’s neck. And the guy? He seems totally happy about it. Petting them, letting the naughty brothers chew his hair, not making anybody move.

You’ve worked here a while, you thought you’ve seen everything, but this is a first.

The door chimes, notifying you of another customer. You have a hard time leaving the peaceful sight behind, but it has uplifted you. Everyone is so much happier for this mysterious visit. You should be more optimistic in the future, and judge people less when they come through the door. Sometimes the most unlikely of humans can turn out to be wonderful.

“ Hey! How about some service up here!”

And sometimes, you should just trust your anxiety.

“Good morning! How can I help you?” You pause in the door, just short of entering the office. There within stands a man bigger than you in every capacity. He’s tall, buff, and angry as hell. Not grouchy; livid. He removes the toothpick from between his serrated teeth and brings himself up to full height to look down his nose at you. “S-sir?”

“Yeah, it’s about damn time. I need a dog. A big-ass one, got it?”

So many red flags go up. You raise an eyebrow and wonder how to handle this. If anything goes wrong, Juhi is close, but… You have a bad feeling, looking into those yellow eyes. They’re filled with intensity and ego unlike what you’ve been trained to deal with. “You’re welcome to go into the kennel and see the dogs, but...”

He shoves you against the wall on his way through. You feel your shoulder crack and your jaw bruise. “Useless little bitch.”

It’s a good time to call the police. You hurry to the office phone. You almost start to dial it.

You never heard the kennel door open.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He grabs you by the hair and yanks you back. You clatter to the floor, neck aching. “What, do you think you’re calling the cops on me? Not a chance, little bitch.”

You thought you’d seen it all, but this is a first.

A low yowl starts from the desk. It grows and grows, crescendoing to a shriek.

Gudetama glares at the villain from the chair. His teeth flash when he hisses.

“Shut up, you little fucker!”

He winds up to kick the cat and you jump between them.

A leash snaps over the villain’s neck, yanking him back.

“I pick one day not to wear my equipment, and this is the shit that happens.” The cat-friendly guy grumbles. He squeezes the line, cutting off air for the criminal. The assailant bites and snaps at the leash, but it doesn’t give.

You’ve had a lot of dogs here that try to chew free of their leads. The board funded a handful of the unbreakable variety, but you don’t think this was the occasion they had in mind.

“ You’re going to get the hell out of here. And you are not going to come back. Ever . Understand?”

He kicks and gasps, face turning red. But he manage s to nod and wheeze something unintelligible.

“Good. Now fuck off.”

The villain barrels out the door, leaving everything strangely still. You turn your whole body so you can look at this guy; from your spot on the ground, he cuts a splendid image of strength.

He sets the leash aside on the desk and offers his arm to help you up. You take it with both hands. Your knees are unresponsive, rendering you meek. But he steadies you, one arm wrapped around you and the other on your wrist.

“I’ll put a report of this up on HN. He won’t be coming back.” The guy pats you on the shoulder, and it stings a little. You don’t ask him to stop. You don’t want him to. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think it’s serious. I just...” You swallow hard.

This should be the last straw, shouldn’t it? You should be done. If any other employee had been up here, had been assaulted in the middle of the day, they’d be quitting. They’d call your boss, they’d be out that door, and they’d demand a hell of a raise before coming back. If they agreed to come back.

You can’t.

You can’t afford to, in more ways than you can count.

“Oh jeez,” he mumbles, still patting your shoulder as your eyes well. “Hey, it was scary but you did just fine. You’re all right.”

“What if he’d hurt one of the animals?” you sob. “What if he actually got to one of the dogs? I wouldn’t have been able to stop him! Oh god, if he had kicked Gudetama--”

You gasp and pull free of the man’s hold , turning the chair around.

Your feline friend has his hackles up, puffed into a rage. He spits and hisses, eyes wild. He is terrified, was almost injured. Your stomach churns and twists. When you reach to comfort him, he yowls again and presses against the back of the swivel chair.

“Poor guy,” your rescuer sighs. He kneels down, eye-level with a beast that seems to want to kill him. “Hey. I wasn’t going to let anybody get you, okay? No need to be dramatic.” He glances up at you, then focuses back at Gudetama. “What’s this big man’s story?”

“He...” You sniff and wipe your eyes. Guilt is heavy, and it coats your insides like molasses. “ He’s been here longer than any other animal, dogs included.”

You can hear the question without this man ever saying it. It’s always the same question. “Why?” So fuck it. You’ll answer the unspoken query.

“He’s been here since he was a kitten. Somebody found a box of them that had been left out in the rain, and Gudetama is the only one of his litter that didn’t get adopted. He doesn’t go out of his way to meet people; he’d rather be by himself and nap. It isn’t like he’s sick or anything; he just isn’t a social cat. He doesn’t even like most people .”

“… Huh.”

“Besides that, he’s got a case of Resting Bitch Face, a naturally angry sounding meow, and he doesn’t care much for the other staff members.”

Gudetama’s hair is starting to settle, but his guard is still up.

“Strange. When I got here he was happy to be on your lap. He doesn’t seem too fussy.”

“They’re too eager to get to know him, and they’ve all made bad impressions, I think. This big, lazy guy holds some serious grudges. I had to vaccinate him and he didn’t come near me for a couple weeks.”

He moves his hand closer to stroke down Gudetama’s back. You reach to stop the man, but it’s too late. You wince, expecting a scratch or a bite to come.

“I understand how you feel, you big, lazy egg. You don’t want to deal with anybody who’s bothersome, right? You just want a quiet place to curl up and be left alone.”

Gudetama allows the contact. He loosens up. He stretches out.

He purrs.

For a complete stranger, this cat purrs.

Your world tilts on its axis, skewing your perceptions of a creature you thought you knew so well. This has never happened before. It should not happen. Gudetama is a cat who disdains others, who turns his nose up at anyone who comes near him. He refuses the gentlest, warmest, most patient individuals. Somehow, the very foundation of who Gude is eluded you. That, or this man is a secret cat god.

The second option seems more likely.

“There we go. You’re a cupcake under all your fur.” Still petting the otherwise unsociable feline, the man looks up at you. “He seems to like you pretty well. Why haven’t you just taken him home?”

Gudetama does not like you especially well. You know this because you’ve used your quirk on him.

It’s a mundane, mostly worthless ability. You stare long enough, you concentrate hard enough, and you can tell what somebody likes most within their general vicinity. For Gudetama, it’s usually treats, sometimes his bed, and occasionally things that shouldn’t be a bed but become one; like the fax machine or the computer keyboard.

“ I wish I could. My landlord doesn’t allow pets. Gude has been here for four years now… I just wish he could find the perfect place.”

If people are going to come in here, hurting the animals, chances of that paradise will drop further still.

“Well… Maybe the perfect place is with me.”

You push down a torrent of envy as this guy picks your best buddy up in his arms and holds him against his chest. There’s cat hair all over those black clothes. Gudetama adds some more, still purring. He makes eye contact with you.

So you stare for a long, long time until everything blurs out except what the kitty likes most. The strange man is clear as day, even shimmering to your perspective.

It’s a gross feeling when you aren’t your best friend’s best friend.

And your best friend is a cat.

And your life is a fucking mess.

The way he looks at Gudetama makes it impossible for you to hate either of them for this. There’s an embarrassed affection about the whole thing, even the awkward, strained smile. And sure enough, Gude is the what comes in clear and shiny when you concentrate long enough on your customer.

“I recently moved into a new apartment, and they allow cats. I always wanted one, but I didn’t have the space. Plus, I work a lot. I need something independent, who will be happy if I set out food and water and have to disappear for the night. I wasn’t really expecting to be able to make a decision today, but…”

But it’s a perfect fit.

You know.

“Yeah. I’ll, um… I’ll pull out some paperwork for you to fill out. And while you get that in order, I’ll put together a bag of his favorite things.”

“Are you sure? You’re still shaky looking from that villain. I don’t need you to--”

“It’s fine. Really. This is my job, and I want Gudetama to go somewhere nicer than this, where he can be happier.” You shuffle though drawers until you find the applications and the adoption forms. You pull out the folder of Gude’s history, from his entry to his last vaccination, and put it out for the guy.

You peer over the counter at the papers until you see him write his name. Aizawa. Shouta Aizawa.

Your lazy kitty continues to make his happy sound. Just laying against the crook of Aizawa’s elbow is enough for Gudetama. You have no idea what makes this man so special, and you don’t believe you will ever know.

When everything is said and done, Gudetama is in a cardboard cat carrier with his favorite blanket and a handful of food, and Aizawa is holding a bag of way too many objects, as well as the vet records.

You watch the little round holes of the carrier, hoping to see that beige nose one more time. Hoping for him to stick a paw out. Gudetama doesn’t even howl or hiss about the temporary accommodation. More than likely, he’s fallen asleep.

“Hey...” Aizawa looks over at you. “ I’ll take good care of him. And when he’s settled in, I’ll even have you over to visit him, okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That sounds really nice. Call if he needs anything, I guess...”

A nod.

The doorbell chimes.

The door closes.

Gone.

You sit at the desk, hands folded, just silent. The phone rings a couple of times, but you don’t have it in you to pick up; you tell yourself they’ll call back if it’s important enough. The office lights buzz a little bit. The air-freshener spits out citrus scents. You hear barking behind you, distant, be hind two different closed doors.

The barks get momentarily louder.

Juhi comes up front, stretching and grumbling in the back of his throat. “Hey. Anything happen up here?”

“… Gudetama got adopted.”

“Really? Sweet! I can start putting the canned food back on top of the fridge!”

“Yeah, I… I guess that’s true.” You nod to yourself a few times. “Can you watch the office for a minute? I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

“Gross. But whatever. Sure.”

You get up and go through the first door, into the hall, and to the bathroom. You lock the door. You sit on the ground, your head just under the knob.

You’re happy for Gudetama. You remind yourself over and over that you’re happy. Overjoyed. He’s been waiting forever to be adopted.

But you’re crying anyways. Because you’re selfish. Because you’re just a little lonelier than you already were.

You are trapped in a life that eats you alive quietly.

Chapter Text

Local weather is turning colder every day. The sun eases its schedule back. Leaves turn color, but only at their very tips. The region stands at the starting line, prepared to race into Autumn. The seasonal cycle continues.

But you are still stuck in a rut.

It’s five minutes to clocking out, and you are not even excited to go home. Today has been average, with only a few inconsiderate people on the phone and only decent, respectful customers coming into the business. The dogs are comfortable, napping after a whole day of playing in the fenced-in yards. The cats cause no more mayhem than usual, save for a hairball or two.

When you go home, it will not even be this calm you experience. It will be a void or robotic action. You will go through the motions. Nothing interesting ever happens after you clock out.

You go to punch in your employee code, but a man comes bursting through the door.

He is, for lack of better words, strange.

His hair is long, unusually so, and as blond as a banana peel. His mustache, though small, matches well in color. He holds himself at sharp angles and dresses in dark colors and stiff materials that accentuate a sense of action about him.

The man, distraught, runs to the counter. He’s sweaty and smells like wet leather and good body spray. The beginnings of tears are in his eyes, though you can barely tell what is behind his tinted glasses. He says something, but wheezes so much that you cannot understand.

“Do you need to sit down?”

He shakes his head, frantic. The gentleman rests his fore head on the counter and heaves in three good breaths. “ Has anybody brought a cat in ?!”

This guy has a volume control issue.

He realizes it, too, and slaps his hands over his mouth.

You glance from him to the clock. Normally, you would turn somebody away for coming in while you’re closing. “U-um. There have been some stray cats in recently, but what are you missing?”

“My friend’s cat got out, and we can’t find him anywhere! He’s a big, round, beige thing. Longer hair, a little chunky!”

The description sounds familiar. Eerily so. Your heart squeezes and backfires at the possibility, but you dismiss it. There are plenty of cats in the world that can be described just that way.

“No, nobody has brought in one like that. Or called, either. Let me write down a note. How long has the kitty been missing?” You go out of your way to be as calm as possible, both because you’re antsy, and this man looks ready to start sobbing in panic.

“S-since this morning… We’ve been all over trying to find him. I opened the door and I shouted to get my friend’s attention, and the cat ran out the door and… It’s all my fault !!”

Your ears ring.

It’s weirdly familiar, but you can’t place his voice.

“Hey, I’m sure he will turn up before long. Where is he missing from? If I know the area, I--”

The guy’s phone starts to ring. It’s on full vibrate, slapping against the metal buttons and rivets of his pants pockets. He picks it up right, wiping his eyes and skewing his shades. “Hey, Shouta.”

That name…

“No, I talked to the lady here. She said… I’m not! I’m not crying, I swear!” he whimpers, snorting in some wetness. “Yeah… Yeah, that’s what she looks like.” The eccentric looks your way, offering his cell phone. “He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Um… okay?” You take the device to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

It’s definitely him.

It’s definitely that Aizawa guy.

You’re sick to your stomach. Gude’s been at this guy’s place for a couple of weeks, and he’s lost your cat. Gude tama knows next to nothing about how to behave outside . He lays by his food bowl until it’s filled; he cannot survive on his own !

Aizawa sounds as concerned as you, and a little angrier, but neither of you come close to the grief his buddy is portraying. The guy is a mess, holding in sobs.

You would be, too, if you lost your friend’s pet.

“Gudetama definitely isn’t there?”

“No.”

“Fuck.” You hear him pull away from the phone, but you can’t be sure what he says to himself in those seconds. “First off, is Hizashi freaking out?”

“Yeah. It’s really bad, actually. He’s shaking and shouting a lot.”

“That’s fairly normal for him. Do me a favor and grab the water spray, squirt him in the face, and tell him to calm the hell down.”

You have no intention of doing that. “Sure thing. And then?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Did you try shaking his treat box?”

“I have a bag of them, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Obviously.”

“No, the box. The plastic box. Those are the ones he comes running for. They’re Fatgum Brand Fattos.”

“… I don’t think I have them here.”

You raise a brow and peek behind the mounds of paperwork, to the spot you habitually stored Gudetama’s favorite snacks. Sure enough, there is a little plastic bin. You forgot to send it with him.

If you’d remembered, maybe he would be home already.

Fuck.

“ Okay, I found them. I’ll have Hizashi take me towards your apartment, and I’ll help you look, okay?”

Aizawa’s voice is weaker than before. “Thanks.”

“We’ll find him, okay? I’ll be there soon.” You hand the phone back and finish clocking out, grabbing your keys, turning off all the lights. Your heart is pounding the whole time. Horrid scenarios flood your mind. What if Gudetama is hurt? What i f some strange person has him? What if he’s up a tree?! That cat is too ro tund to get down from high branches!

“ Let’s go, let’s go !” The blond guy is nearly running circles around you. He paces as you lock the front door. “It’s not too far from here, so let’s walk it! Maybe he’ll show up?!”

“Right!” You begin to shake the plastic bin. Gudetama will certainly appear for his favorite treat, especially if he hasn’t had them in a while. “Here, lazy, lazy egg! It’s your friends and your yummies!!”

Hizashi has his voice lowered to a wheeze, trying not to repeat the fright that started this mess. It’s horrible to hear, and somehow still fairly loud. “Come out, come out, please don’t be dead!”

“ Shaky shaky!” You chant, walking down the street.

People stare at you, gaping and even giggling. You’re watched. Judged. Found strange and probably creepy, too. You bunch up your shoulders just a block in, shaking the box without calling out.

They definitely think you are crazy.

They will mock you.

“ Have you seen a big, yellow cat around here ?!” Hizashi yells at just about every group he sees. Every time, they shake their heads and murmur something along the lines of ‘good luck’. “ Come find me if you see one ! ”

The possibility strikes you that they are not watching you at all, but the loudmouth with the biker getup who is crying in public.

His presence, his ability to draw attention away from everyone else around him, makes you appreciate his help a great deal. You have no reason to be self-conscious; if you tried your hardest, you could never be flashier than this man. You redouble your efforts and your “Here, kitty kitty kitty” calls.

Mister Megaphone Mouth grinds his teeth. “Maybe I shouldn’t be sayin’ anything. The cat probably hates me.”

“I’m sure it isn’t like that.” It might be, actually. He’s a sensitive furball.

Your companion pauses. He is the picture of discomfort, fidgeting and tense. “ What if it doesn’t turn up? Shouta has been better since he brought the big egg home with him, you know? He’s eased up. If something happens to his cat, I just… I worry he’s gonna hate me forever. He doesn’t make friends easily, you know? You know. You met him.”

“Really? He seemed a little grumpy, but fairly dashing, actually.”

“… Maybe we aren’t talking about the same Shouta.” Hizashi shrugs.”I just gotta believe he’ll turn up and be okay. My buddy already isolates himself enough, you know?”

Perhaps it was not magic or divinity that drew Gudetama to Aizawa. The two could well be kindred souls. Their similarities include lack of sociability, an unapproachable expression, and having few relationships. If Aizawa values naps and unhealthy food, they might as well be the same being split between two physical forms.

“I know he’ll turn up. There’s no way Gudetama went very far. He’s… not especially athletic.” You clear your throat. “Shaky shaky! Come and get some treats!”

“ Shaky shaky, Gudetama !!”

You cover your ear, wincing.

Maybe the compression waves from that insane volume jostle a memory loose, but it comes to you. You follow after the now speed-walking man. “I think I recognize you from somewhere?”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Aren’t you a...”

Hizashi grins, and it’s a nice grin. Maybe a little too excitable, but genuine. “Why, yes, I am a Pro--”

“-- DJ, right?”

“Oh.” He blinks, and his grin dials back a few notches. Before you know it, it returns, accompanied by a thumbs up and his radio-friendly voice. “You bet! I’m the host of Put Your Hands Up Radio! Nonstop music, every Friday night!”

It explains a few things. He’s talkative, confident, and a hell of a character.

“ Are you a fan?”

“Me? Not really.”

“Oh...”

“Not because I don’t like the show! That isn’t it!” You backpedal as fast as you can, almost dropping the box. “I don’t really go out on Friday night, so I don’t get much opportunity to hear it. I also don’t own a car...” You frown. “Come to think of it, I could probably listen on my phone, but I never thought about it.” You gasp. “Hey, after we find Gudetama, can I get your autograph?”

“Of course!”

“Cool! You’re probably the most famous person I’ve ever met!”

“That’s… huh...” He clears his throat. “I’m honored! Except maybe right now, we should try to focus. Because, again, I don’t want my best friend to hate me for life.”

Best Friend .

If he cares about Aizawa half as much as you care about the cat, this was serious business.

“ This is the place, right here. We gotta go up to the second floor. Shouta has been combing the place top to bottom, and I think he’d still be here. I hope so, anyway.”

“Let’s start at his apartment and then branch out from there, okay?” You hesitate, but reach out to pat Hizashi the Radio Man’s hand. “We haven’t found him yet, but that’s not a reason to be discouraged. Sometimes animals will disappear for weeks at a time and wander home.”

Not animals like Gudetama, but you can see he’s become anxious. More than likely, these men just aren’t privy to the kinds of places your bestie kitty usually tucks himself away. He could well have clamored up into the underside of a box-spring mattress or be wedged next to a warm appliance.

You head up to the third room on the second floor. The door is shut, but Hizashi grabs the handle and jiggles, revealing it to be unlocked. He peeks inside before making a uniquely military-style hand signal for you to follow him. “Shouta isn’t here yet. We left the door open for a while earlier, hoping the cat would come back.”

You prepare your Gudetama-call.

Some would describe an apartment like this as minimalist or simple .

You would call it fucking empty .

“Are you sure this is the right place?” The room contains almost no furniture. The short table and the television stand look like they could have been provided with the apartment. There are a few papers scattered across the tabletop, held down by an empty mug and a half-decent laptop… A corporate laptop, probably. It has an insignia engraved across the top that seems to be from a school of some kind. There is a yellow sleeping bag crumpled in the corner.

You manage to answer your own question when you peer around the door. While Aizawa himself lacks furnishings, there is plenty of equipment for a cat. A climbing setup, complete with bed and fancy bowls stands in the corner. Gudetama’s favorite things are strewn across the carpeted platforms. Sans his Fattos, of course. It’s the size and scope of the climber that strikes you as excessive. Gudetama will probably pick just one good spot, and this equipment has enough space to sit about twenty of the lazy feline.

A guy who cares more about his pet than himself.

Something about that gives you the warm fuzzies, right in your chest.

But you have bad news for Hizashi. “I hate to say this, but if Gudetama was in here? We would spot him immediately. There’s nowhere for him to be hiding, you know?”

Hizashi stifles a wail.

“It’s okay, it’s okay! I still don’t think he’d be far away.”

The two of you leave the barren living-space and stand in the hallway to get your bearings. There are rooms in both directions, some of them to public facilities like a kitchen and maintenance closet. “I guess we should be looking where the food is. If I know Gudetama, he’s probably on top of the fridge.”

“Right! Let’s go and--”

“Oi! No luck from either of you?!”

Oh boy.

Both of you are equally tense when you turn to the dark man stamping down the hall. Aizawa is dressed a little differently than before, and it’s scary as hell. You thought he liked dark colors, but this black jumpsuit really cements the assumption. His scarf has been scrapped for a long, winding line of bandages that hang loosely from around his neck. A pair of yellow goggles are in the mix, but they stay closer to his throat, catching on unshaven scruff as he yells. He stinks a little. It doesn’t bother you, not terribly, but it gives you the sense that he hasn’t had time to shower since Gudetama went missing, and likely was working some sort of night-shift before the incident.

“N-no. We’ve just got here, but he didn’t show up outside.”

You see the frustration there, how hard it is for Aizawa not to lash out.

Hizashi is ready to crumple. He’s tired, especially if they’ve both been on the hunt since morning. “If I had just seen which direction he took off in, maybe...”

“We’re going to look on top of the fridge. It was his favorite place at the Organa Shelter; nobody could reach him up there to bother him.”

Wordless, the distraught owner uses his building keys to open the kitchen. “The janitor was doing his rounds this morning, so every room has been open at some point. I doubt the old guy was attentive enough to notice if Gudetama came through this way.”

Once the door shuts, you start to furiously shake the treats. “Come out, come out! It’s time to eat, you naughty egg!”

The kitchen is fairly nice and has all the standard appliances, even enough for two people to cook at the same time. It’s still a cheap place, having tenants share so much, but it proves to you that Aizawa’s depressing, empty place is unusual even for the area.

The fridge is tall. A lot taller than any of you. And there are no chairs around to stand on.

You stick your arm up as high as you can reach, making kissing sounds and summoning with snacks. “Gude? Are you there?”

“Hang on.” You feel hands on your waist.

You are lifted. “Eep!”

Aizawa seems to have no problem hoisting you into the air. To him, you’re no more a challenge to carry than a kitten. Under those baggy, shoddy clothes lurk the muscles of a behemoth. You peer down at him, cheeks getting hot and knees getting wobbly.

He glares into your eyes. “Well?”

Oh, right.

You poke your head just barely over the edge and take a good look.

“… Aizawa?” you mumble.

“What? Is it him?!”

“Very slowly… put me down.” You swallow.

He obeys, but the confusion is clear on his face. You don’t breathe until your feet hit the floor.

Hizashi crowds you, but you make a point of directing the group to step far away from the appliance. “What is it? Is it up there?! Is something wrong?!”

Aizawa is equally unsettled, but withholds his thoughts.

“We need to call animal control.”

“Oh no. Oh no, oh no.”

“It’s not Gudetama.”

“… Then...”

“There is a live opossum on top of that fridge.”

ACO arrives to deal with the frightened critter. You’re delighted that the opossum is all right. Aizawa determines that it crawled in through the old garbage shoot, while Hizashi Yamada argues that his friend should live in a nicer, safer building. “If wild animals can just come in here, you should get the fuck outta here!”

Aizawa just grumbles to himself.

The Animal Control Officer pulls the live-trap down off the fridge and covers it with a sheet to keep the uninvited creature calm. You know the guy through work. And he knows you just well enough to give you a really suspicious look.

“I didn’t think you came out of your apartment this time of day,” he huffs, pointing out the window. The sky is darkening. “You’re always the emergency on-call for when I have to bring an animal to Organa in the middle of the night. I figured you’d be doing that homebody thing.”

“Y-yes, well. I’m helping--”

“ Have you seen Gudetama the cat ?!”

All of you, except Noisemaker McGee, cover your ears. The opossum makes hellspawn noises.

“That big, fat thing that used to be at Organa? Not lately, thank goodness. That bastard just hates , you know? The less I see of him, the better. Ah, I need to be off. Let me know if you have any more excitement around here,” he says, heading down the hall and out to the stairwell.

Aizawa is tense, enraged, and grieving.

You’ve wasted so much time.

It’s almost night, and Gudetama has not turned up. By now, he could be anywhere. A healthier cat could have disappeared from the neighborhood by now. Your sweet lazy egg, though? It’s hard to say. He has never been in the wild.

You fear the worst.

“Shouta? We’ll keep looking, okay?” his friend tries to comfort him, but his hand is pushed away. “Come on, you know there’s more we can do. I’ll get posters up! Somebody would see him; he’s hard to miss.”

“...” He scowls. “Dammit. I just...” He swallows.

Fuck .

You shake the treats a little, testing their weight in your hand. This is something you deal with all the time. People call or come looking for a pet, and walk away disappointed. Or worse. Never before have you been on the receiving end. There’s nothing quite as crushing. And to see this tough man, one who saved your life, so unsteady in the wake of loss? You…

You can’t bring yourself to give up.

“I’ll make sure to put it on the shelter’s information page online. That will get attention. A-and! And I still haven’t checked all the rooms in this hallway! He might still be here! What about the janitor’s closet?”

“I fucking doubt it,” Aizawa mutters.

Hizashi glances at you, grinding his teeth again. “We did check there...”

You doubt it, too, but you don’t let them know. “Well, I’m gonna check it all over again. I don’t know much, but I know cats. I’ve lost track of plenty of them, only to find they’re in a storage spot somewhere and I was crying about nothing. Uh… Don’t tell my boss about that, actually.”

You borrow the keys right out of Aizawa’s hand and go unlock the door, shaking the box. You smile at them, mostly just to show that your spirit hasn’t broken. Gudetama might be gone, maybe forever, but you want to let Aizawa and Hizashi have hope. Hope so they can sleep to night. Hope so that, if by a miracle from above, they can pull things together and rescue the kitty if he ever appears in this world again.

A white towel walks out of the closet.

“Uh…?”

It wriggles back and forth, shakes, and then falls to reveal the sweetest sight there ever was.

Gudetama yawns and stretches, then looks up at you, expecting a handful of his favorite treats.

Shouty Shouty Yell Man bursts into tears, hugging Aizawa, who just barely allows it. He actually seems ready to pass out in Hizashi’s arms, slack from relief and literal exhaustion.

“You...” You sniffle. “You are the naughtiest cat who ever lived, Gudetama. Now come here. You get treats in your home, now.” You pick him up and carry him to the door, tossing the keys back to the rightful tenant.

While everything settles, you stare at the cat. He’s still expecting you to make good on the snacks, and you will. Everything around you blurs and becomes mundane.

Including Aizawa.

Including the Fattos.

You frown, but don’t have time to discern what Gudetama’s favorite thing is before you hurry inside and pour half of the Fatgum branded bits into the food bowl on the massive climber. Your favorite animal in the world hops up and chows down, and the atmosphere settles entirely.

“ Thank you so much !!” Hizashi wraps his arms around you, squeezing your head against his chest. “ I owe you a life-debt !!”

You cringe, sure your ears will start bleeding if you have to endure much more. You appreciate h is happiness, but this is a little much after hours of searching.

“Hizashi.”

You both turn to look at Aizawa. He seems miffed. You aren’t sure why, because just a second ago he was up to his ears in relief.

“O-oh. Right. My bad.” The blond lets go of you, still sniffing. “I appreciate everything you did today. Without you, who knows how long it would have taken to find the big puffball. And, uh, I’ll get you that autograph, I promise.”

“Autograph?” Grouchypants raises a brow.

“Yeah! She… Never mind. I’ll swing by Organa tomorrow and leave it for you.”

“Cool!” You smile. “I’ll try to actually listen to your radio show.”

Aizawa snorts.

Hizashi shrugs, taking no offense. “You’re one cool cucumber, you know? I don’t think I would have kept my head on if I saw a wild animal inches from my face. Especially one that might be covered in ticks and fleas and mites...” He trails off, shivering, a little pale.

You smile. It is a unique compliment, but one to be proud of. “I’ve faced down worse than that. It takes a lot to shake me these days.”

The Man of Secret Buffness shoves his buddy aside a little. You think it’s to see Gudetama better, but the big boy continues to munch and crunch. Aizawa looks at you instead. “If this ever happens again, I’m calling you. Let’s exchange numbers.”

Ah. Not really the way you thought you’d end up trading numbers with a guy, but it’s something. “Sure thing. Let me write down my digits. Even though you can probably just call the shelter to get me, aha...”

You work too many hours.

While Aizawa programs your contact into his cell phone, you peek back at Gudetama. In spite of the problems he’s caused, the cat is calm. He purrs ever so slightly between bites. Seeing him so at ease, you know for sure he’s gone to the right home. Even though you doubt you’ll see him again, because Aizawa will never let him loose and Hizashi will be paranoid for life, you’re happier.

You wish that happiness didn’t make your eyes burn.

Chapter Text

A cat is about to have her kittens.

This occasion means working late. An employee has to be here in case of emergency, in case a veterinarian has to be contacted.

Normally, something like this would be battled over by your coworkers; each of them would argue they deserved to go home, and it would fall to you to suck it up and not get to bed that night. This time, you volunteer before the squabbling can start.

It isn’t all bad. You have music to listen to, blasting Put Your Hands Up radio through earbuds and hearing Hizashi Yamada briefly announce every trio of songs, occasionally giving trivia. It almost fe els like having company.

Gudetama’s absence remains unsettling to you. He had been present for every batch of kittens you’ve overseen the birth of since you started working at Organa Animal Shelter. Not that Gudetama much cared for the babies. He enjoyed having somebody there with him past the usual closing time, somebody to feed him or use as a heater. Not h aving him in your lap as you wait in the office is strange.

You plug your phone in and sit on the ground, tethered to the spot until your battery gets out of the red.

“ Okay, listeners! Is everybody having a fantastic Friday? Get those hands up! I’ve got more hits coming your way, but first? Let’s hear some brand new releases! That’s right; your main man Present Mic has gotten his hands on three single s from your favorite upcoming artists! ”

You don’t know any of the bands or singers, let alone a song. It all runs together in your head, an amalgamation of pop, synthesizers, and chorus, chorus, chorus. Some of the stuff is catchy, sure. But, you aren’t confident you’ll be able to tell one from the next if asked later.

Set your things down. Peek into the quarantine room. The kitty is fine; if anything, she’s angry at you for bothering her again. She licks herself and lays on her side.

“Sorry… I’ll try to be more patient,” you whisper, backing out again and returning to your little station.

Neither Aizawa nor Yamada-san has called since the great Egg-Hunt-And-Opossum-Find. Yamada has come in a few times, though; and it’s done wonders. You’re busy all the time because of his help and his radio persona. Every Friday since you’ve met, he’s talked about the shelter and a pet on air before the nonstop music block. The shelter has had record adoptions and donations. And that’s marvelous.

The place is starting to feel empty.

There will always be cats and dogs there; you have to keep them in the facility until you’re confident in their health and get them fixed, after all. But many of the classics are long gone. Even Ryuji and the Trouble Brothers are memories to you now.

They have gone to wonderful places and great new adventures.

You hope for a day that you can aspire to those heights as well.

Knock knock knock .

You hide behind the desk. The shelter is closed. You aren’t here.

Knock knock. ”Hello? Anybody in there?”

Nope. Not a soul.

Your hours are posted on the door. Whoever this lady is, she’s gotta learn how to read.

Knock knock knock. “I’m looking for a girl who works here a lot?” She mutters, but you can hear it fairly well. “Fucking Eraserhead skimped on the details. Something about his cat? Ugh.” She clears her throat. “Hey, if anybody is there still, I’m here to pick up Fattos treats for Aizawa’s cat! Good Tanky, or whatever.”

Oh. Maybe this is for you.

You get up and go to the glass door, unlocking it with some difficulty. Gotta get that thing oiled. “S-sorry, ma’am. We’re not supposed to let people in after we close, and I thought you might have just been… you know...”

“An asshole? Oh, no problem; I get it.”

You categorize this lady into two different spots from the moment you see her.

First, she’s gorgeous. Full figured, tall, with confidence in her stride that could collapse buildings. Her hair is long, dark, and untamed. She’s well-kept down to her smooth skin. You’re flush, intimidated by a woman so lovely and so commanding.

Second, she’s some kind of fetishist.

It’s an easy peg to fit the block through. She’s got a dog collar around her neck. Her dress is a latex material, and it clings to her form in all the most erotic places. Her boots go up to her thighs, and you cannot be confident she has anything on below her skirt. This is no casual wear, at least not by the standards of your shy wardrobe. Your polo shirt and khaki pants uniform, next to her, make you feel that much more like a potato.

“I, um… Gudetama needs treats? Right? I… I did say we had more, and I think I can go get them,” you stammer.

She smiles, peering down at you through her lashes. “Oh, my. You are a cute thing, aren’t you? Look at that sweet, innocent face of yours.” She reaches out and cups your chin. Her hands smell like high-end lotion, brands you can’t afford and would never use if you could.

“Uh…?”

“I could just bite your cheeks!”

You need an adult.

You are an adult.

Shit .

“I’m, I’m just gonna go get those! You can come in if you want, or wait there, or whatever is good, okay?” Your whole body is tense as you scramble towards the hallway and the storage closet beyond. You get the sense that she’s laughing at your expense.

You tuck three boxes into a plastic bag, along with their original receipt. That way, Aizawa will know where to go when he needs to buy more.

You’re a little disappointed that he didn’t show up in person. Why? He hardly seems like a Casanova, and the chances of him caring about you beyond information about Gudetama is unlikely either way. Still, you like his strange, menacing, lazy, chill demeanor. And he isn’t bad eye-candy, either, when you look past his weird outfits.

Strange attire seems to define his known group of compatriots.

You return to Miss Mischievous Mamm a ries, bag in hand, a service-girl smile on. “I hope this is all you needed.”

“Thanks, sweet thing.” She takes your offering, satisfied with herself. “I’m surprised you’r e here, actually. Aizawa didn’t tell me how to get a hold of you except for where you work, and that you’re here all the time. I would have swung by earlier, but my job got a little crazy.”

You wonder what she means by that, and what sort of work she does.

You then try not to acknowledge the things you imagined.

“I’m sorry. If I had known he needed some more, I would have dropped them off myself, or sent them with Yamada yesterday. I’m only here right now because a cat is in labor.”

“Aww...” She says, but there’s a twinge of disgust on her face. “How long do you think she’s gonna be?”

“Oh, there’s no way to be sure. Could be an hour or so. Could be two in the morning. Could wait until eight tomorrow; that’s happened.”

“Yikes!” She chuckles. “Somebody drew the short straw for nightshift, huh?”

“Y-yeah. But I usually do it anyways, and I don’t trust some of my coworkers to be calm about it if she needs help.”

She nods along, still visibly uncomfortable with your preoccupation. “So when does somebody else come so you can go home?”

“They don’t. It’s just me.”

“Oh. Then, you have tomorrow off, right?”

“No, I always take the weekend shift. I just bring a change of clothes with me when this happens.”

“ Somebody is at least bringing you dinner, right?”

“I have an apple… So… I brought my own?”

“What the fuck?!” She stomps her foot and sets down the cat supplies. “What gaggle of cum-guzzlers won’t at least be decently fair to a cute girl? I’m going to punish them for it later.” She snaps the strap of her purse. You get the feeling she does that sort of thing a lot. For work. Adult work. “ No way, sweet thing. I’m gonna be right back with something to put in your mouth. You’ll feel better after you swallow.”

“I-I feel fine. Also are… do you mean food, or…?”

You don’t get your answer. She is already marching out the door on the warpath. Her hips sway at angles you thought physically impossible. But damn if you aren’t impressed with her.

And just maybe, she makes a good point? You are stuck doing this every time. You’re not even confident you’ll be paid for being here. Maybe this isn’t so fair.

But, then again, you volunteered for the job. So it’s on you if it is something you don’t enjoy.

You go to the quarantine room again, barely opening the door to look at the cat. She sees you, knows you’re up to shit, and glares. “Sorry…” You step back into the hall, door closed. Pestering her into childbirth seems like an ineffective tactic.

Back to your hiding place, and your phone is at twenty percent. And Yamada is closing out his song introduction, playing a popular request. You still have no idea what it is.

You want to check on the cat again.

You better not.

You worry too much.

The door opens.

Madam Ovaries is back, standing triumphant before you with two totes filled with convenience-store snacks and premade meals. She cackles. “You can bow down and kiss my feet for this whenever you’d like! I hit pay-dirt tonight!”

“I don’t… I...” You would rather not put your lips on her shoes. God knows what sorts of dirt and fluids are on those deceptively shiny surfaces.

Your stomach has other goals. It grumbles now that you realize what’s available to you. Did you even remember to get lunch today? Did you remember breakfast, either? In the face of a free meal, you simply cannot remember. “U-um… Do I have to kiss your boots now, or can I write an IOU?”

She laughs, spreading everything out on the counter. Cup noodle s and rice crackers and manju escape the bag when she sets it down. “Well, as long as I get to eat next to you, I guess I’ll let this slide. Pull up a chair, cute girl,” she orders, definitely orders , and blows you a kiss.

You obey.

She pats your head.

“I’m starting to feel like a dog,” you murmur, waiting for her to start eating.

She laughs. “Oh, that’s pretty hot. Be careful not to get me too excited, all right?” She bites into a cracker. “Mm! I’m Nemuri Kayama, by the way. You don’t need to introduce yourself; Aizawa already told me about you.”

“Aizawa… talked about me?”

“Well… kind of.” She takes another bite and makes you wait to hear her thoughts. “Aizawa was mostly just telling me he’d rather hang out with his new pussy than me, and mentioned you helped shave it or something.”

“Uh… I hope you mean save ?”

“Sure, probably. Yamada was the one who actually told me your name. And then I was asked to come here and get something, but you know the rest. Yadda yadda.” She leans back in the office chair, crunching away.

The manju is really good. It’s been a long time since you had any. The Cup Noodles, however, you almost hate to look at; you still have one almost every day, and your tolerance for them is wearing thin. Affordability comes before variety.

You catch Kayama giving you the side-eye and you stop eating. “Do I have something on my face?” you ask, patting your cheeks.

“… Holy fuck, girly, you gotta be careful. You’re a snack that’s hard to pass up on. I see exactly what Mic was talking about.”

“Mic?”

“Yeah. Present Mic.”

“Oh, isn’t that Yamada’s radio persona name?”

She purses her lips up tight and closes her eyes. Kayama takes a deep breath and releases it just as slowly. “You are just the most honey-sweet, innocent thing. I could lick the sugar crystals off your soul.”

“Please don’t.”

She chuckles. “I will behave myself, I promise. Keep eating, okay?”

You do, but you are self-conscious about it. This is the weirdest meal you’ve had.

But you aren’t having it alone, which is really something else. Even though she’s strange, this woman is kindhearted. You get the sense she doesn’t mean to make some of the innuendos that come out of her mouth; it’s just habit. She makes double entendres, and you talk a lot about animals. Work lingo.

“You need to start standing up for yourself, though.”

“ I do..?”

She nods vigorously, choking down the rest of the senbei. “You really do. You’re here working in t he middle of the night, probably worked all day, gonna work all day the next two days. You’re busier than hell, and nobody is even giving you a hand. I don’t know what table they’re bending you over here, but you need to take charge. Go to the fucker at the top , sit him down, and whip him into shape.”

You shrug. “It’s not something I know how to do. Our boss is a little scary, and I cover everyone’s shifts anyway. It’s just like this.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I just want to make sure things get done. Nobody else ever wants to, and when stuff is overlooked, it’s the animals who suffer.”

“And that excuse is ass, too!” She slams her hand down on the counter. You watch her seethe. Her forehead is almost as red as her lipstick. “Everybody needs to pull their own weight around here instead of fucking you over. If you won’t pussy up and ask for a promotion, you need to quit.”

“What?! That’s, like, the opposite of what will keep things running!” You set the food down, glaring at Kayama. “I’m not going to abandon the animals here. If something happens to them, because I was selfish, because I couldn’t hack it? Then it’s my fault.”

“No, it fucking isn’t!” She waves her hand over your face. “Wake up, sweetheart. You are not supposed to be the only one busting your balls to make things work. You’ve got an assload of experience that you can pick up and take to any other animal shelter, where they will pay you more, and give you better hours. And you’ll help the critters there as much as you do here.”

“But--”

“ But nothing! You’re not gonna be able to do this forever. Someday you won’t be available to do this work anymore, and then what? Will everything fall to bits? Fuck no! They’ll realize what they took for granted, and they’ll come crawling back to you, begging for help and buttering you up. Or they’ll just get their asses in line. No matter what, you can’t be okay with how things are when they’re shitty.”

You want to argue with her. You want to be mad at her.

But everything she says, you’ve thought before.

You want to quit, and you want them to give a damn about your efforts. You want to see your shitty coworkers put in half the time you do. You want to make enough money to eat more than corner-store clearance food. You want to move to a new apartment where you’re allowed to have a cat.

You want, you want, you want.

It has never mattered what you want.

“Aw, cutie pie, don’t cry like that. Ugh… I shouldn’t have yelled. Here, have a napkin and dry your eyes.”

You take it, but shake your head. “No, you’re right! You’re right about everything! I always get stepped on. I get pushed around and I just take it.”

“Yeah.”

“I want to be the one on top for once! They shouldn’t expect me to always be here; at this point, they should be begging for my help!”

“Hell yes.”

“I’ve worked here longer than everyone but the director, and he barely even comes in! I shouldn’t be the bitch! I should be the alpha around here!”

“Oh fuck yes !”

You stop ranting and look at Kayama, whose expression is entirely lewd. “I… I may have said too much.”

“No, no, feel free to go on. It feels good to let it all out.” She picks up another rice cracker and stares at it instead of opening it up. Her mood drops a little as she reads the label and ingredients.

While she’s not being distracting, you stare at her. Your vision gets fuzzy and dim, and you go through the bags of food until you find the thing that stands out to Lady Lovebite. “Have some pocky, okay? You paid for it.”

She blinks and looks at the box, and then you, before accepting the treat. “Thanks. I’m not really supposed to be having it right now, though. I’m on a new diet to keep up with skincare, and sweets are sorta not allowed.”

You sneak a peek at her body, and can’t find a single place that needs dieting. Her skin, especially, looks flawless. Unless her quirk has something to do with the plan, you are unable to find an excuse for cutting back on the things she likes. “I don’t think a couple sticks of pocky will hurt. You’re just going to metabolize it right away anyways.”

Kayama laughs and opens the box. She licks her lips, but does not partake. “I’ll start getting wrinkles, though...”

“Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Heh. How young do you think I am, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You scan her, but have a hard time placing a number on her physicality. Maybe if you co u ld check her teeth for plaque buildup, like with dogs? That seems like a rude thing to ask, though. “Mid-twenties?”

“… I would absolutely rock your whole world, you sugar-plumb minx.” She takes two sticks at a time and chomps away at them. “I’m not gonna, because I’m fine with this little tease and denial angle you’re working, but I would.”

You are lost. The conversation has lost you.

You keep eating instead of worrying about following her implications.

Once she’s finished off the box, Sassy Britches turns the chair to watch you. Just watch es you eat. Thankfully, you have had enough to not feel starving anymore, so you have no trouble quitting. “So. What did you think of Aizawa?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You know. What did you think about him? He makes a shitty first impression, but maybe you saw through it?”

You frown. “Actually, he made a really good impression on me. He was nice to all the cats when he came in, and he...” You prefer not to think about the villain. He hasn’t come around. It’s over. “He was sort of chivalrous in a weird way. And since Gudetama likes him so much, I know he’s a good person.”

“Yeah? Anything else?”

She’s digging for information.

You aren’t sure what she hopes to find.

“Well, I guess… He’s really athletic. I didn’t expect that. And he’s a lot more sensitive than he pretends to be. I was so scared he was going to cry when we couldn’t find Gudetama. He really loves that cat.” So do you. “He also has really nice hair. I bet if he put it up, his face would be fairly handsome. I notice he has a weird schedule, too. He must work at night a lot, and I’m not sure when he shaves. If he shaves. He also has next to nothing in his apartment, and that sort of makes me worry about him. Like, is he warm enough at night? Is he comfortable? Does he need some rugs, maybe?”

Kayama smiles. “Oh, wow. You sure gave a lot of thought to that.”

“No! It’s all just off the top of my head!”

She smirks, not believing a word of your claim. You fully intend to give her a piece of your mind regarding her gutter-brain.

But then the door opens.

“I’m sorry but we’re closed--”

“Kayama!” Aizawa stands at the door, exasperated, glaring, expectant. “Did you get lost or something? You said you would be back two hours ago.”

He’s in the weird clothes again, the ones with the goggles. You notice his eyes are bloodshot, or at least more so than usual. Perhaps his job has him staring at fine print in dim conditions; you are no stranger to that kind of eye strain. You wonder what he would look like in glasses.

Handsome.

He would look gorgeous in glasses.

While he huffs at Nemuri Kayama, you push that image way down where it won’t bother you again. No time for those fantasies.

“ Don’t get your panties in a bunch. The little sweetpea here was hungry, and so was I. I figured you didn’t need cat treats urgently or anything.”

You wave shyly at Aizawa, as if to help excuse Kayama from his wrath. She really did help you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he sighs, only glancing at you. “Fine. I’m here anyway, so I can just bring them back myself. I don’t understand why she couldn’t go home and just eat without you pestering her.”

“A cat is having babies or something.”

“ OH SHIT! ” You nearly topple the office chair. You haven’t checked on the mother in a long time, and that was the only reason you were even supposed to be here. You rush back to the hall and gather yourself at the door.

Deep breaths. Don’t panic her.

You enter.

And a few minutes later, you exit just as carefully. You want to shout, but you overhear some conversation before the opportunity arises.

“… so worked up about? It’s not like anything happened.”

“Keep it that way.”

“Oh, looks like I’ve stroked a nerve. Hate to tell you, Eraser, but you need to move a little faster if you want any chance at...”

The door squeaks and they both turn, blowing your cover. You play i t off as if you never heard anything. It doesn’t sound like an argument that involves you, anyway. “So… Does anybody want to come see newborn kittens?”

You believe, without a doubt, that Aizawa would have Hercules Checked Kayama to get to the kittens first. He moves through the door like an unbound shadow, and crouches by the cage to watch in silence as the babies nurse. Four stripey kittens cuddle up to their mother, who licks their ears and backs clean.

You sit on your knees next to Aizawa, torn between watching the little ones and staring at his calm smile. There is adoration in his eyes that shimmers so brilliantly, you feel it creep into your warm cheeks.

Shouta Aizawa. A total enigma.

“I’ll send you pictures of them tomorrow when they’re all cleaned up if you send me some of Gudetama,” you offer.

He almost laughs. The attempt sticks inside his throat, but you hear the purr behind his answer. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

You’ve never had a vacation before. Not really.

You’ve used vacation days, but never to take a block of time off. Now, it’s just you and two weeks of freedom while your boss realizes his business’s structure is inherently broken. You won’t take calls. You won’t go in, no matter how worried you are, and you definitely won’t give up early.

The problem is, you have no clue what to do with yourself.

For the first day, you sleep. It’s peaceful, but you cannot do it for two weeks straight. As nice as hibernation sounds, you find it comes with a lot of boredom.

On the second day, you think about turning your phone off. The Organa Shelter keeps calling you. You let yourself listen to the voicemails, and every one of them makes you anxious and angry.

“What dose of cephalexin was Po supposed to be getting?”

“I can’t find the spare litter boxes. Did you put them somewhere new?”

“I know you’re on vacation, but could you fill in for me on Wednesday?”

It’s nonsense. You mute your phone while you get dressed so you can enjoy some quiet before noon.

Your entire wardrobe is uniform. Polo. Khaki. Polo. Khaki. It’s horrifying to find that you have no life outside of your job, down to your very thread-count. By a miracle, you find a t-shirt stuffed in the back of your drawer. The colors have faded a bit, but there are no holes or snags; probably why it’s survived past so many spring-cleanings.

You haven’t worn it since college.

Shit .

Where does the time go?

Your phone screen is lit up with notifications. You swipe away everything that your workplace has sent, leaving only a text.

Aizawa has sent you a picture of Gudetama.

The lazy egg himself is belly-up, basking in sunlight. You see some treat dust on his chest and chin. Gudetama is fully asleep, his front paws folded up by his cheeks.

He is so happy.

Ugh, your heart.

You reply to him, but have no picture to send back.

You: What a lazy boy! I bet he’s purring up a storm. Sorry, but no kitten pictures today. Not at work for the next 13 days :/

You set your device down so you can go make breakfast. You expect no reply; Aizawa strikes you as a man who would rarely bother texting back, regardless of if you gave him what he wanted. You don’t mind. Every day he uses you for cute animal pictures, and you use him for Gudetama updates. Seems fair.

You’ve just poured hot water on your cup-noodles when your phone buzzes.

Grumpybottom: I heard.

Oh. You contemplate that response as you eat a meal you are so very sick of. He knew ahead of time he wouldn’t be getting anything out of the interaction. Which means he doesn’t care as much about seeing how the kittens are as you thought, or he’s banking the exchange to get pictures in bulk later.

Or you’re overthinking things.

Grumpybottom: Hizashi wants me to invite you to get lunch with us.

Hizashi is a friendly guy, so you believe it. He is invested in people, and not the sort to lose track of them. You are tempted to accept the offer.

You: Do you want me to go, or do you just want to let me know it’s what Yamada is thinking?

You finish off what you can stand of the meal. Cup Noodle comes in hundreds of flavors, and you’ve lost your patience with all of them. Most things sound nicer than this. After being treated to a plethora of snack foods by Kayama the other day, you’ve become spoiled. Lunch is sounding nice.

Stepping on somebody’s toes is less appealing.

Grumpypants: Do what you want .

Well, you want to eat something different today. You’re about to ask him for details, like time and place, when a different number texts you. You suspect the identity right away and program the contact accordingly.

BoldYeller: DON’T LISTEN TO HIS TONE!! WE WANT YOU TO COME, OKAY?! 12:30 MALL FOODCOURT PLZ COME???

You delete everything you were going to ask and just reply to Aizawa, confident that Hizashi is watching over his friend’s shoulder.

You: I’ll be there.

You’ll be there early, in fact. There is nothing at all to do at home, and the mall will at least supply you with a steady stream of people to watch. You stuff your wallet into your pocket and tug on your shoes, expecting to be back home before two in the afternoon. It’s just lunch, right?

The mall is bigger than you remember it. You have no itinerary, no hit-list of things to get, so it all towers before you in disorder and scale. You wonder where to go, and return to your old habits.

Pet supply shops are strange places. They manage to be clean, smelling like fresh pine and cedar shavings, even though the lifestyle they sell to i s rarely so spotless. You wave to the colorful birds on display, and a few of them chirp back. Most of them are busy playing, staring at their reflections, preening their friends. You’ve met a few feathery pals at the shelter, even though the facility is not equipped to hold them. Once, a homing pigeon got lost on its return trip, and you took care of it there for almost a week until the owner was found. Gudetama wanted to eat the little white thing! He begged and yowled and napped on top of the cage until you put it in a room he couldn’t reach.

Stop thinking about work.

The fish are in good form, but you know surprisingly little about them. They are beautiful things, and you feel bad for the ones with the flowing, tie-dye tails that have to stay in such little containers. If you were allowed to have a tank in your apartment, you would surely bring some home.

The cats make you sad. They have less room to play than at the shelter, so you suppose it is a blessing to see so few of them. They just lay there, asleep in their cages with no toys. You move on because you’re doing it again. Thinking about work. Stop it.

Maybe the puppies will cheer you up. Nothing brings joy like a little fuzzy pup licking your face. You go to visit, but stop short when you see the behemoth of a man standing before a distressed cashier.

Him again.

“You heard me! Which one of these is gonna grow up to be the biggest, scariest mutt? I’ve got money riding on this so stop wasting my fucking time.”

“U-uh… Sir, I don’t think you should be asking me. I’ll call my manager, and--”

“Don’t you try it, bitch!” He makes a grab for the shrieking young lady.

You break an extra-large beef bone over his back.

He turns, eyes wide in pain and rage, and you slap him in the face with what remains of the dog chew. His serrated teeth flash even as he yells out in shock.

You have had enough.

You have had enough of so many things .

That frustration may be translating into your actions.

“I am not putting up with your bullshit! You get the fuck outta here! Get your shit together, Chompy Chompy Douchebag! Get your shit together somewhere else, and don’t ever go near another animal!” You hit him repeatedly while the clerk dials for help .

“Get away f r om me, crazy bitch!”

“I am not a bitch, bitch !” The splintering beef bone comes to pieces, leaving you with a hand full of plastic and loose meat.

The criminal makes a run for the door, only to be tackled by mall security.

You set the mess you’ve made aside, wiping your hands on your pants, before going to comfort the crying salesgirl. “Are you okay?”

She babbles something incoherent.

“Totally,” you nod. “But everything is okay now, and you were doing the right thing.”

Her manager shows up, white-faced and worried, and you think the day is going to improve. You stood up to the criminal that hurt you all those weeks ago. You kept him from hurting somebody else. And the puppies are safe. It’s all wins in your column.

Click .

An officer grabs your wrists and handcuffs you.

“Wait! She was the one who came to rescue me! Why are you arresting her?” The gal weeps. You don’t manage to say anything; you’re stunned.

“Ma’am, she assaulted somebody. He’s bleeding, and badly, too. You’re going to have to come with us,” he tells you. “I’m sorry, but citizens shouldn’t be taking the law into their own hands.”

“What’s going on over here?” With the same impeccable timing you’ve come to know him for, Aizawa appears.

You would wave, but you’re a little tied up. You manage to shrug, watching him and a Rock-n-Roll Banana go talk to the other officers. Except that Banana looks familiar. And sounds extra familiar.

Yamada?

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s not something she’ll get in too much trouble for, but it is assault, and she does need to come along with us until some senior officers arrive.” A guy with a hawk head sighs. “Hate to do it to her, but it’s a security risk.”

Aizawa huffs. “Forget about th at crap . Surrender her into our care and we’ll make sure she gets processed.”

“Sure thing. But I’ll need to see your licenses first.”

You aren’t sure what driving has to do with this, but they both hand over a card. A couple of security officers peek at them before nodding to the one holding you. He unlocks the handcuffs and prods you towards the duo of strangely-dressed gentlemen.

The situation diffuses faster than you can figure out what happened. “Whoa, what was that ? You guys didn’t...” You lower your voice and lean in towards Hizashi. Aizawa is unlikely to tolerate ignorance. “You didn’t bribe the police did you?”

“Uh, no. First, because Mall Security is not the same as police. Second, as Pro Heroes? We have a few privileges when it comes to situations like this.” Hizashi beams, shooting finger guns at you. “Just like that, you’ve been rescued! Bam !”

The fluorescent lights buzz a little louder to your ears than before. The people in the crowd become swirls in the background. The smell of the pet store’s cedar is more pronounced than ever. You can taste your own tongue and try to ignore the feeling.

“You two are Heroes?”

The men mirror your clueless expression, particularly Sir Yapsalot.

After an eternity of torment, Aizawa musses your hair. The strength of his hands has an explanation, now. A lot of things have an explanation. “Standing here talking about it is a waste of time. Let’s just eat.”

You’re hot from your toes to the tips of your ears, and to all depths. You haven’t even touched your food; you only stir it occasionally and hope it looks like you’ve taken a couple bites.

You’ve never felt so stupid in your life. You’ve had the wool intentionally pulled over your eyes plenty of times, but this? This is all on you.

The humiliation cannot fade, accompanied by the guffaws of Present Mic. “ You really didn’t know?! I thought for sure you would catch on, or you were just messing with us !”

People are watching. You use your hand to shield one side of your beet-colored face. “How would I have known? I barely pay attention to that kind of stuff!” Off the top of your head, you think you could spot about two heroes in public unprompted. One is All Might. The other is Endeavor, assuming he has his flaming beard pumped up. “It’s not like ordinary people meet a lot of heroes, okay?”

Aizawa glares at his friend, who works hard to stifle his laughter. Then, he turns back to you. Hizashi is in uniform today, but Aizawa is in casual clothes. That said, they barely look different from the jumpsuit. They look like the sort of pants and shirt that comes bundled in a package of eight. “I thought either Hizashi or Kayama would have told you. I’m sorry you got taken off guard.”

“Kayama is one of you, too?” You frown. “So… She isn’t a dominatrix?”

Neither m a n comment s . They make a show of finding something on their trays worth eating.

“ Somebody could have just clued me in. If I had known, then...”

Then, what?

In truth, you wouldn’t have done anything different for having the knowledge. You might have been less willing to meet with them in public, given the crowd. And you could have avoided feeling like a moron now. But the strange adventures you’ve had with them? Still note-for-note.

“ Eat something.” Aizawa pushes your tray at you.

When the light catches his eyes, you swear they are red. They flash and highlight, like wild animals’ caught in the beam of a flashlight. Spooky. Interesting.

You try to eat.

Yamada keeps chuckling to himself until Aizawa slaps the back of his head in the middle of a bite, and he coughs. “Yo! Rude!”

“ You are the rude one. Shut up and let her settle down.”

He keeps smiling but manages to shrug. “You’re right, Shouta . I forget, but ordinary people don’t face down even loser-class criminals too often. Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good, because I wanna keep laughing about that. It’s hilarious ! ” He slaps the table. You read Aizawa’s face well enough to know he’s thinking about pushing the man’s chair over. You may beat him to it if this keeps up. “You pummeled him with a dog bone! Best thing that’s happened on a patrol in months! Ah, Lemme get your picture so I can post the whole story on HN!”

“No!” You glare. Whether you intend it or not, your quirk activates. You see all the things he likes, but Aizawa shines brightest. It isn’t surprising, given their friendship; it also isn’t useful to you.

There’s an u nsightly , black smudge in your vision, something on the floor. Something worthy of Yamada’s hatred.

“Come on. Just a little picture?” He fishes for his phone.

You grab the blur from the floor. And you hold it up at him.

“ GYAHHH! ”

“I swear to you, if you post something about me so people can laugh at my expense, I will drop this directly into your food. I mean it.”

Even you cringe at the little, gray millipede swinging between your finger and thumb. You glance between the bug and the man who is leaning increasingly far from you. And then to Eraserhead, who has the biggest, ugliest smile on his face.

“ I won’t! Get rid of it, rid of it, rid of it right now! ”

You’re glad to, setting it down in the decorative plant at your side.

The other hero is disappointed. He grumbles, reaches into his pocket, and takes out a bottle of eyedrops. He puts two in each side and keeps them closed for a moment. It fascinates you to watch how delicately he can move. His hands are precise, in spite of scars and callouses.

Hizashi holds his chest as if he’s having a heart attack. “I… I think I’ve lost my appetite. Shouta, I’ll send my food with you, so keep it at your place for a while, yeah?”

“Whatever.”

He nods. “I’m gonna go back to my patrol route.”

This time, Aizawa is clearly unhappy. “ That’s not what you promised we--”

“You two have fun!” He winks at you for some reason and then shuffles away. He’s out the door before you know it.

You have to assume Aizawa is unhappy about being abandoned with you. You understand why. Neither of you is a conversationalist. Talking all the time is hard, and you were hoping Yamada could do most of it. Great Big Grumble was probably banking on the same thing. You feel tired just trying to think of what to say.

You have about one thing in common.

Cats.

And if that isn’t overused at this point? It’s a miracle.

“So...” You churn your broccoli with your fork. “ Thanks for helping me not get arrested today. That was pretty cool.”

“You’re welcome.” He sucks on his drink straw, rigid at the shoulders.

“… Do you go out doing her o stuff a lot?”

“Yeah.”

Silence floods in.

“Gudetama… is doing well.”

You nod. “I saw the pictures. Thanks.”

It comes back in, like the tide on the beach.

“Lunch is pretty good.”

“It’s fine.”

You’re dying for a little help out here. You’re drowning in awkwardness.

He scratches his chin, about as far from making eye contact as possible. “You wear a lot of tan pants.”

“Yeah… You wear pretty much the same thing every time I see you.”

“That’s… true.”

You need to call in a lifeline.

You close your eyes tight and think as hard as you can about what you’d want somebody to tell you. You rack your brain for any line of thought that could make this a little less painful to endure.

You like Aizawa. He’s nice, and he’s laid back, and he doesn’t get along with people any worse than you do . He reminds you of the best friend you’ve been missing for a while. You’ve always known how to treat Gudetama; why not apply that now, to this human person?

Just without the petting.

Unless…

No, no petting.

“Hey, what if we just don’t talk? Like, not as a rude or upset thing, but I can’t think of anything, and I like the quiet.” You wince, hating the way you phrase the offer. “A c omfortable silence is better than a terrible conversation, right?”

He perks up an eyebrow. “That sounds good.”

So you don’t say anything. And you feel no need to speak any further.

When the burden of conversation is lifted, you manage to eat your meal. You also manage to watch Aizawa eat his. He has a way with moving things that mesmerizes you. Somewhere between instinct and premeditation, he wields his chopsticks. His fingers all move independently of each other. The level of dexterity he showcases makes you wonder about his skill at his job. He must be something beautiful to watch.

He always seems somehow heavy within his own body, though. Working at night, sometimes the day, and then still finding time to be with his extrovert friends? You feel a kinship where your own fatigue touches his.

What would it feel like to sleep in somebody else’s arms? To nap for an hour, your fingers linked with a lover’s?

There can be no greater delight than a catnap for two.

You finish lunch, tossing the container s away. He follows suit after, his hand on your shoulder, tilting you to the side so he can get rid of his tray without sullying your shirt.

“Thanks for inviting me out today. I was pretty bored at my place. It was nice, other than the trouble I caused.”

He shrugs. “You didn’t cause that trouble for me, so I don’t really care.”

“I’m gonna go home, then.”

He peeks out the window, frowning at the afternoon sun. “I’ll walk you there. Your luck has been shitty lately. You would probably get mugged or something on your own.”

You shove the mortal terror down and try to appreciate his gesture.

The weather is turning, leaving you chilly. You would have put on a jacket if you knew, but as things are, you can endure the journey home. It is nearly November.

You walk shoulder-to-arm with Aizawa. Even though you know the way and he doesn’t, he is keen on being in the same position. Maybe it has something to do with his hero training.

It’s easier to talk when you’re moving, and nobody else is around. “Do you think Yamada hates me now? Because of the millipede?”

He chuckles dryly, almost soundlessly. “No, it would take a lot more than that. The look on his face was priceless.”

“You’re kind of mean to your best friend, you know?” You suck in a sharp breath. That was too harsh to say, but you’re already standing in the observation with no way back. “I mean, I know I threatened him with something he hated. But he cares about you a ton and you… You’re different towards him, I guess.”

He scratches the back of his head. His hair tangles slightly. You would have given any one of your fingers for a chance to reach up and undo the knot, and the eagerness frightens you.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“He’s nice,” you say absently. “Just really hard to keep up with.”

“I know.”

“Same with Miss Kinky Boots.”

“You mean Kayama?”

The nickname slipped from your mind. You clear your throat. Continue like nothing happened. “Yes. She’s thoughtful, too. Just really tiring. Exasperating.”

“Mmhmm.”

“ They would be nice to have as friends, though.”

He stops, and as soon as he does you stop, too . You look up ahead, but there is no danger you can detect. When you glance back at him, you see a problem.

Aizawa stares down at you, directly into your eyes. He is puzzled, or frustrated, or outright annoyed by something in you. The judgment burrows under your eyelids and skitters to your brain.

It might have been a mistake to go out today after all.

Whatever is bothering him, he lets it pass and bumps you with his elbow so you will move again. “You’re clueless.”

You are not sure what he means by that, and you suppose it proves his point. Being that you have already been made a moron of once today, you decide not to answer.

Only a moment later, you reach your apartment building. It is unimpressive, even compared to Aizawa’s place. Run-down is a good way to describe the building .

You would call it affordable .

“Well… This is where I go.” You point up to your window on the second floor. “I’ll see you later.”

“Probably.” He huffs and balances on the heel of his foot, turning away.

“Aizawa?”

“What?” he grumbles.

“Send me pictures of Gudetama, still? Tomorrow morning?”

“… Fine.”

You are unclear on what has him bothered, if anything. He is a moody man, and you can appreciate the need for space and tranquility. You can only hope you figure out what he was huffy about, or that he gets over it.

His stride is weighted, but there’s something about watching him head off that charms you, deep down in your belly.

Probably the outline of his legs under the windswept fabric of his pants.

Chapter Text

On your fourth day of vacation, you wake up to a picture of Gudetama. He sleeps on top of Aizawa’s laptop, papers scattered around. His fluffy, champagne-colored fur is groomed, but not the way he does for himself. Aizawa has brushed him.

No words accompany the text. But he thought of you and he kept his word. You’re flattered. You’re happy.

You spend the day cleaning. It is amazing how, though you buy little, your apartment manages to clutter. Much of it is trash, or paper from bills and junk mail. Some of it is laundry, which requires several trips down to the basement and a lot of detergent for the washing machines. You stuff the last of your light-colored clothes in and go glance at the Lost-and-Found pile while waiting the last five minutes for your first set of clothes to finish in a dryer.

Nothing here belongs to you. Many of these items have remained in limbo for months, likely never to be claimed. A watch that needs a new battery. A Hawaiian shirt far too big for you. Overalls with blue paint stains. A crumpled school blazer with the stitches coming undone. Freshly-laundered gym shorts with “Yas Qween” across the butt. You peek into the lives of unidentified people through the things they wore, but couldn’t be bothered to come searching for.

The dryer beeps, and you go to stuff your things into a basket and take them back upstairs. Only a bit more, and you can be done for weeks.

On the fifth day, you get no text. Nor do you pester Aizawa for one. You are reluctant to let go of the past, let go of the cat you adore, but you know Gudetama is in good hands.

It still irks you, though.

While you eat breakfast, you fume about it. You were with that cat at every step. When the box of kittens came in, you dried him off and tucked him in. When his siblings were all adopted, you tried to get Gudetama to play with a slightly younger litter; and when he spent a whole day backed into the corner, hissing at them, you decided he could be in the office instead. You stayed with him when he was sick. You bought him the treats he liked. You gave him space or company as he liked it. You visited him in the middle of the night sometimes, just because you thought he might like the attention. Or because you needed his.

For all of that, you have less value than a man Gudetama knew for just minutes.

Is it fate? Is there a red thread tied around his paw that goes to Aizawa, as if they were meant to be with each other?
You look at your own hand, which is rough and freckled and stained by bleach. If you had been born with a red thread, it has eluded you at every turn. It can be such a pain, seeing what others love dearly while wishing to be loved at least mildly by anyone. Anything.

You watch television for a while and relax. The shelter has stopped leaving you messages. With any luck. Your demands have been made clear.

The newscaster moves on to a new story, and you vaguely pay attention. “A series of power outages and downed networks have begun to be investigated by Pro Heroes. Citizens who experience a loss of power or an inability to get a signal are encouraged to stay calm and wait for repairs. The damage is not considered long-lasting, and the status quo should be returned within a few hours of any electrical occurrences.”

Pros. You wonder if Eraserhead, Present Mic, and Midnight will be involved. None of them seem like electricians to you, so you doubt it.

“New Cup Noodle flavors are being introduced--”

You change channels.

Your window rattles in the rainstorm. You startle awake, look at your clock, and rub your eyes. It is barely past one in the morning, but things have gotten dicey outside. You can hear the patter of water against the walls, hear the wind whistle around the corners of the building.

The window rattles again.

You figure the lock needs to be clamped down better. Everything falls apart one screw at a time around here. Until your landlord has time to see to it, you can make due with some rigging.

You rise in a sleep-fog to fix the window problem.

Two glowing-red eyes shine in the darkness outside, from above the flower box.

You fall on your ass, barely containing a shriek. The shadow in the darkness and rain presses a hand to the glass and shakes the pane again.

“Aizawa?” You gasp, opening the window. A torrent of rain blows in, and he tumbles through, onto your floor.

You shut your home up tight as fast as you can before kneeling down to check on him.

The man is sopping wet, all the way through his hero costume. His scarf has knots and twists and red stains. You slide a handful of his hair back, away from his face, and feel the heat of his skin climb towards your finger bones. “It’s about time… you answered… your window...” He leaves his mouth slightly open and breathes past his teeth rather than through his nose. “Been there… a while...”

“What happened?!” You are torn between helping him up and encouraging him to stay down. His eyes fail to meet yours. They fail to focus upon anything higher than the legs of your armchair.

He shivers. “… Villain… Just work… It’s fine...”

If it was fine, he would never have come here. Something has happened, and you rise to get your phone and call an ambulance, or at least another Hero.

He grabs your ankle. Aizawa has not moved, not tried to get up at all. He lays on your carpet, still gasping for his breaths. “Wait.”

“I’m just going to get my phone. I should get a paramedic to--”

“Shh...” He shakes his head, throwing his wet hair back over his face. You notice the goggles around his neck are cracked and dented. “Stay here. No lights. No sound. Stay down here.”

Is he being pursued?

You glance at the window again, expecting to see another shadow lurking there, watching you. For now, you only see the rain.

You go back to sitting with Aizawa, but turn him onto his back and straighten out his limbs. He doesn’t fight you, but his muscles are tight and he tends to shiver back into curling. If you could convince him out of his wet clothes, you could get him warmed up. You go to take off the scarf.

He stops you.

He holds your hand.

His thumb presses into your palm. His normally skillful fingers sprawl out over yours without a plan. Ever so slightly, they tremble.

When Aizawa’s head lolls to the side, you swear it’s an attempt to look you in the eyes. But he is dazed, only partly conscious. His chest rises and falls. Seconds go by, and there is nothing but rainfall and distant thunder.

Lightning flashes.

Something was out there.

You grip his hand back, tucking his fingers into your hold. You glance around, hoping for something to defend yourself with if the worst happens. There is nothing. The nearest thing you can think of are scissors in the kitchen drawer, and there is little chance of getting to those now.

The building goes completely dark, down to the last appliance light.

Blackout.

Now? Of all times to be without electricity and possibly a phone signal, now?

Shit.

Aizawa grunts and you try to figure out what he needs.

There are footsteps.

No, something like that. Something softer. It comes from outside, just above your window.

You manage to cover your mouth just before it starts whispering.

“Where are you, where are you?” The thing hisses, chuckles. “I know you came this way, little morsel. You still have some juice for me to drink… You can’t have made it far.”

Aizawa is staring at the window, throat tight. His eyes glint slightly.

You cover them with your other hand.

No light. No sound. No panicking.

You’re fine.

You can hold it together.

“Come here, my precious yuzu fruit! Tasty, tasty little Hero...”

A woman crawls down past your window on hands and feet, her hair dripping and clinging to the glass. She does not look in. Not at first.

You swear you see her glance.

“…Nothing. I’ll find you yet, Hero. Little yuzu-flavored snack….”

She moves on down the wall, and out of your sight. You continue to hold yourself to silence, and Aizawa to blindness. His breath is hot and wet against your wrist. A lifetime stretches by, the thunder echoing off of the street.

You lean in close to look outside and watch the road while lightning flashes. There she goes. The spidery villain shambles across the road, to other nearby flats. You see her climb up to their peaks, and then all the lights inside flicker off.

“… She’s gone,” you whisper to your unexpected guest. “I doubt she’ll come back this way. I think I see some lights from my neighbors, so she’d be caught if she did.” You let go of his face.

His eyes are closed now, and his breathing has evened out a little. He is still ragged. “I was sure I could trust you to stay calm,” he manages, voice thick. “You did a good job.”

You take his hands and try to get him to sit up, but he’s practically boneless. “Come on. You need to get dried off before you get sick.”

He huffs and lets you pull him to his feet, but is shaking the whole time. His knees give. He leans on you.

He weighs a lot more than the average pet.

“How does this come off? Is there a zipper or something I can get to?” You fish around behind his back, but you have as much luck getting him out of his clothes as a virgin boy undoing a bra hook for the first time. “Dammit.”

“I can get it. Just let me sit down.”

You put him on a kitchen chair instead of anything cushy. If he gets the seat wet, he’ll just be uncomfortable when you move him there. “You get undressed, and I’ll go grab a towel and some blankets. I will be right back.”

You hurry into your bedroom, grabbing a handful of your bedding, before rushing to the bathroom. Even though it’s almost pitch-black, you know your shoddy apartment well enough that you could make these same movements if you were rendered blind. You grab your biggest towel and the first-aid kit from under the sink.

He is only half-finished when you return. His chest is bare, and you curse the darkness. You can only see his general shape. You tell yourself it’s because you want to look for any injuries, but you know you are curious about how toned he is.

The bottom half of the suit clings to his legs. He holds to the wall, hoping to use that to stand and shake them off. You grab him by the shoulder before he can make that gamble, and keep him sitting. “I’ll give you a hand. Catch your breath.”

He winces while you towel his hair dry. His locks come away in a tangle, but they no longer leave streams down his back. “Let’s get this around your waist, and then get you out of your pants.”

That, at least, gets a smile out of him.

You would be blushing, but the matter is serious. You can think about naked Aizawa later.

Shit, you just thought of him.

You can think of naked Aizawa in detail later.

One tuck, one pull, one pile of dark, wet cloth piled on your floor.

You pull the blankets around his shoulders before he can sink back to sitting. “Thanks,” he murmurs, his head resting against yours. The scruff of his upper lip brushes your ear.

The shivering continues.

You shoulder his weight and haul him to the armchair. He sinks into it, groaning, tugging the comforter tighter around his form. You open the first-aid kit and turn on the battery operated light that sits on top.

“You’re looking pale,” you comment, your hand on his cheek. Your touch spurs him to roll his eyes back, and you earn another wordless groan. “What happened?”

“She has an energy-draining quirk.” He tries to tuck his chin under the covers, but you keep him from disappearing. “I don’t even remember what happened. Everything was fine. And then it wasn’t.”

You check his pulse, even though you aren’t sure what his resting heart rate normally is. “Since getting help is out of the question for a while? You’ll have to put up with some nonsense from me.”

“Do whatever you want. Just let me sleep.” He whines the last part. Aizawa probably missed his own tone, because you doubt he would willingly share that kind of vulnerability. You feel it. You feel the weakness echo in the hollow parts of your chest. His voice has been reduced to barely more than a whisper, and every word has to be dredged up from his throat.

You don’t know much about people.

But you know animals. And people are just animals with egos.

“You’ll get to sleep soon, I promise. But first, you need to eat and drink something. Anything. Are you cut anywhere? Any injuries?”

He shakes his head. Sort of. More he just lets it slip from one side to the other a time and a half, then takes a deep breath.

You go to get water in a cup with a straw. But when you return, Aizawa is mostly asleep. And entirely stubborn.

“Come on. Open up and have some of this.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know. We’re almost done, but you need this.”

He doesn’t make any effort to get hydrated, so you make him comply. You jam your thumb into the corner of his mouth, pry his teeth open, and get the straw in there. “Drink.” You don’t leave his side until you see him take a few good swallows.

Food, as you can tell by his uncooperative nature, will be hard to get in him. But as long as he has something at all, you promise yourself not to worry. Just enough to make sure he’s functioning.

You hope for the best and activate your quirk.

It is lucky that you know your apartment with confidence because everything becomes a swirl of black nothingness. Some light source flickers in and out, but you aren’t sure if it’s because of his preferences or because emergency services are close to getting something fixed.

You tip-toe into your kitchen and start opening cabinets, looking for anything at all that lights up to Aizawa. Your scanning of Cup Noodles comes up empty, as well as most of the stash of snacks Kayama left for you.

Except for one bag.

It shimmers enough for you to read what it is, and you can feel yourself judge Aizawa just a little bit for his treat of choice. But you reach for it anyways, fumbling a bit.

Your own hand comes into view fairly well. Which is unusual, because you tend to lose sight of your own details when looking into the desires of others. Regardless, being able to see your own fingers saves you a great deal of trouble.

You return to his side and open the plastic seal. “Have a couple pieces of salty licorice, okay? Then you can sleep as much as you want.”

You take the cup away from where you’ve wedged it, between his chest and arm and over the blankets. You find it nearly empty, and all your worries ease. He watches you with lidded eyes, more aware than he has been. “… Sounds good.”

He lets you put one piece in his mouth, and he takes a long time to chew it. You can’t say you even like the smell of the candy, but seeing its effect on him makes you adore it.

He finishes and you give him another. Your thumb brushes over his lips.

Thank the heavens he cannot see how flushed you are.

“It’s your quirk, right?”

You frown. “What is?”

“This… You know what people want all the time. “

You don’t answer right away. Not until he opens his eyes again and watches you. “Not all the time. It takes concentration. I’m only sure when I try really hard.”

“You must… You must make your friends happy, always giving them what they like best.”

“I don’t have friends, Aizawa.”

He huffs. Maybe it was supposed to be a humorless laugh. “Yes, you do.”

But he’s all wrong. “It might seem like something helpful and harmless, but it isn’t. When you’re always trying to give people what they love best, they think you’re pathetic. Or they think you’re creepy. I stopped bothering after a while. Even when I go out of my way, I can never make people happy enough by handing them their desires. Not happy enough to care about me, anyway.” You sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re tired, and I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

Aizawa exhales softly. “Keep feeding me. And keep talking.”

“You don’t want that second thing,” you insist, giving him a little more to eat.

“It keeps me from getting lost in my own thoughts. Hurry up and say something.”

“Oh no. It will be like the mall all over again if we try that.”

“I don’t mind. I just want to hear your voice.”

The heat under your collar is only getting worse. “I… Okay…” You force yourself back on track. “I guess that’s how I started working at Organa Animal Shelter. People never really liked me, but dogs and cats did. I didn’t want to just live without using my quirk; it’s part of who I am, just like the color of my eyes or the number of fingers on my hands. I just wanted to feel like it was useful.”

You peek outside, at a city turned completely dark. “… I never realized this before, but we have a lot of light pollution here. You can see a lot of stars now.”

“Mm.”

“You know it’s usually just a few specks scattered in the sky, right? But right now, I swear I see them in bars and waves, clumped and scattered around. It’s pretty. More to the sky than I thought, I guess.”

“Mmm… hmm...”

You swear he’s asleep by now, just answering dumbly to the sound of your voice. Sweet of him to try, but Aizawa has earned his rest. He is no longer trembling, and the emergency light shows color on his face before you turn it off again.

You hold his hand and listen to the sound of his breathing. “You’re really handsome, Shouta. You know that?”

“… Mm...”

He must be out.

Seeing him like this? You find it sweet and aren’t sure why.

“You’re handsome,” you tell the resting man again. “And considerate. And brave. I like spending time with you, even though I’m kind of a pain. I hope you’ll keep putting up with me.”

He doesn’t answer this time.

You stand up. “Sleep tight. I’ll be right on the sofa, keeping an eye out.” You brush his hair back and go to get the last blanket and a couple pillows from your bed.

You come back to your apartment and find Aizawa awake, trying to find a way to hang up on a phone call so loud that you overhear every word.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!!”

“I’m fine,” the man grumbles. “Just go check on my cat, will you? You know where his food is, and he probably needs water. Don’t let him run out again.”

“I would never! I’ll take great care of him, and I’ll be waiting for you right here, so come back soon!”

“Whatever,” he hisses. “I’ll get there when I get there. Stop worrying so much.”

You lean over the back of the chair and talk into the phone, right over top of Aizawa’s head. “Hi, Yamada! Aizawa is okay, I promise!”

“What the fuck? Who was that?!”

Aizawa glares up at you. “I didn’t tell him where I was for a reason.”

“Oh… Sorry.”

“Wait! I know that voice! Isn’t that--”

Aizawa hangs up on him.

Your guest sighs and looks up at you from his blanket hoard. “Sorry I was such a pain in the ass last night. I owe you for the trouble.”

“No, don’t even worry about it. You’ve gotten me out of trouble plenty of times. Besides, I don’t really want anything.” You clear your throat. “I put your clothes in the dryer a minute ago, so it could be an hour or so before you can put that back on and go. Unless you really, really want to leave.”

“I don’t want you to have to deal with me.”

“Well, I do have some clothes that should fit you if that’s the case.”

“Perfect. Hand them over.”

You hold up the tacky, blue and yellow, Hawaiian print button-up, and the “Yas Qween” shorts.

“… I’ll just wait here for a while.”

Chapter Text

C6. Birthday

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? I’m sure Shouta’s fat pussy will be fine here for a couple of hours.”

You shake your head, smiling, and beg out of the activity again. “I’m not much of a drinker, and I know he’ll feel a lot better with somebody here to keep an eye on Gudetama. I want all of you to go have fun, though! If anything really funny happens, take a picture for me?”

Kayama pats your head, rolling her eyes. “If you’re really sure you don’t wanna get blitzed… Then I guess I can agree to that.”

You are sure.

The issue is less that you dislike alcohol, and more that you know the place they’re heading is expensive. You can only imagine the bill the three Pros will work up. You have no money left to be cavalier with.

You spent your whole vacation budget on Aizawa’s birthday gifts.

Yamada and Aizawa exit his apartment and join you and Kayama in the hallway. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Yeah!” Hizashi cheers, bouncing between his friends. “You’re coming out for your birthday and everything this year! Damn, Shouta! Do you feel good or what?!”

Aizawa huffs and shoves his blond friend back. He reaches out towards you and gives you the keys to his place. You feel the weight of his hand for a second, and then only the metal ring. “If the place is locked when I get back, one of us will call you so you can let us inside. So don’t lose these.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. This is for my door. This is for the kitchen if you need it. And that one goes to the back door, on that side of the building.”

Kayama chuckles and flicks the baubles with her long, sharp fingernail. A hint of the gloss chips off, but you don’t say anything. “What is this one for? Getting lucky?” she teases. There is a little, golden fortune-cat charm grouped in with the keys. The eyes are not painted on evenly, and it has faded spots on the torso. This could well be the first thing ever put on the key ring.

The grumbling man rolls his eyes and ignores Nemuri. “I guess just chill out. Sorry I don’t have a lot for you to do. There’s a television, I guess… I haven’t really used it in a while, but it probably works.”

You chuckle. “It’s okay. I’ll just mess around on my phone if I can’t figure it out. Mostly, I’ll be spending time with Gudetama. I brought him treats and everything,” you say, shaking your purse. You don’t open it to show them the Fattos. You can’t. Because then Aizawa might see his gifts.

“You two are really bonding over this egg cat,” Kayama chuckles. “Come on, Aizawa. You can leave the furball with her. Let’s go get you wasted!”

The birthday boy pauses, glances at you, but says nothing. His expression is pulled tight, but unreadable. He shakes his head. “Sure. As long as you two are paying, I’ll drink.”

They applaud his decision and start filing out towards the stairs, waving you a final goodbye. Aizawa stalls in the stairwell doorway and gives you that look again. His knuckles are pale from gripping too hard.

You wave to him, picking out the key to his door. “Have lots of fun tonight!”

He nods absently.

“Shouta?! Come on!”

The door closes, and the Hero is gone.

His home is as empty you remember it from weeks ago. The papers are gone from his desk, replaced by a binder that says “HOMEWORK TO BE GRADED”. The room smells curiously clean, like an air freshener has been sprayed recently. His sleeping bag, rather than heaped up, is folded nicely with a pillow on top to weigh it down.

And on that pillow is a yellow blob of fur, purr, and attitude.

“Well hello there, Gudetama! Look at how comfortable you are!” You set your purse down on the short table and yank out his treats. “Look what I brought you! Do you want the chicken-octopus flavored ones? Shaky, shaky!”

He yawns and stretches, clawing the pillowcase, before dragging himself up to accept your meager offering. You leave a handful of the Fattos on the binder for him. Gudetama allows you to pet him while he nibbles.

“Aizawa has been spoiling you,” you tease the fluffy boy. “You’re just a tiny bit heavier than I remember you being.”

You have no room to criticize. Gudetama is as rotund as he is because of your habits.

You crawl to the television and fiddle with it for a while. It is hideously outdated; you haven’t seen a box with knobs anywhere but a museum before now. You crank the dial over to whatever public access is showing, then sit back against the wall with your phone charger in. The wireless signal here is excellent. Probably the only thing of quality to be found, and it cannot even be owed to Aizawa.

Gudetama finds his way to your lap and curls up there. He fits himself there flawlessly, and for a moment you’ve gone back in time. You are a new hire again, overthinking the job, sobbing every time somebody yells at you. You had never worked a service job before; you always thought you would have the luxury of sitting in a dim room, archiving paperwork for a professional something-or-rather. You never prepared yourself for unreasonable, angry people, who treat their own lack of forethought as your emergency.

Your skin has grown thicker over the years, but only in patches. After a million wounds to your belly and chest, you no longer allow yourself to sympathize with those who disrespect you. You deal with them. You file their issue away. You forget them, eventually. After a few days of dwelling on the interaction, dwelling on being accused of “not caring about the animal” you forget.

Your heart has never grown cold, though you often wish it so. Reality is cruel. You cannot help every animal that comes through the door. Many have to adjust slowly, to choose to help themselves. A few are terminal and untreatable, and the best you can do is a respectful farewell and a sanitizing spree to keep anything from spreading.

Your head has never grown a shell. It remains your soft spot. Riddled with anxiety, swirling with bad thoughts… You can make yourself a mess, just by thinking. Overthinking. Mostly, however, your brain is filled with the void. The long hours of emptiness that spreads and clouds your insides, clinging to the perimeter of your soul. It is numbness that you fear describing, fear inviting to take a deeper hold.

Your back has been armored longer than anything else. From a young age, you have been stabbed there. Resistances build up. If somebody has the gall to hurt you, you barely feel it anymore. Your coworkers, your boss, all chipping away… Maybe this is why you put up with things for so long. You failed to notice how worn your steel became.

The television crackles for a few seconds, blotting out part of a commercial for a weekend documentary about jellyfish. The programming comes back in line, and you are able to continue hearing softly-spoken news from around the country.

Gudetama purrs and claws your thigh when you scratch the base of his tail. He lifts his bottom, but only for a second. Lazy as ever, but you love him.

You browse through your phone, no real goal in mind. You have no attention span for reading, no taste for art or music right now, and nothing on your social media worth looking at.

“Gudetama, would you like to see what I got for Aizawa?”

He claws you a little deeper when you scoot to grab your purse. You lay the wrapped gifts out on the table, one at a time, and pretend the cat cares. “I got him a sleeping mask with little kitty paws over the eyes! They’re the same color as yours! I can’t show you because I don’t have more tap with me to fix the wrapping, so you’ll have to take my word for it, Gudetama.”

He yawns.

You pat a bulkier gift, one that is wrapped with less skill because of its inner packaging. “I got him the salty licorice candy he likes, too. Do you like that kind, Gudetama? Does Aizawa share it with you?”

The cat glances up at you and reaches out to bat the gift. You take it away from him before he can claw the paper apart.

“Gudetama, this is the one you should like best! It’s all about you. I… I didn’t wrap it, but I probably should, huh?” You take out a little album and open it to the inner cover. “For Aizawa. Look, Gude. It’s all your baby pictures.”

This had been the big problem. The bank-breaker. The time-consumer. You went through files for hours, pulling everything onto a computer and a flash drive, and then to a print-shop to make into a lovely book. Full-color prints of one yellow cat, over and over, was not cheap. Maybe if you had taken less of them it would be fine, but he has so many beautiful photographs from his kitten days. When he first discovered the top of the fridge. Napping with a puppy. Watching birds out the window.

You flip through it again, cheeks a little warm. “There sure is a lot of me in here, Gudetama. If I knew I was going to be in here so much, I would have cut myself out of most shots. Mm… Maybe Aizawa won’t notice. You’re the real star, after all.”

You pet the furry king and set the album aside. Gudetama flicks his tail from side to side, and you know to stop before he makes a lunge for your hand.

Both of you enjoy a warm, quiet moment. Your eyelids start to feel heavy.

Ding!

Ding, ding!

You rub your eyes and check your phone. You’ve taken a two-hour siesta, which is fine, but your message box is becoming curiously full. Did they finish already? Maybe they need to be let in?

Gudetama is on his climbing castle, looking down at you. You stretch a little as you read your texts.

Every one of them is from Aizawa.

Grumpypants: Hey tell me how the cat is.

You’re busy?

You’re with Gude still, right?

Hey

Txt back now

Good god. The messages are less than a minute apart each. You struggle to send something before you get another demand.

You: Still here! Everything is fine!

That done, you get up to stretch. You are awake, but your legs are not. They ache and fill with pins and needles. You hop from foot to foot until everything is in order.

The sky is dark, but the city is filled with lights. Nobody could blame you for mistaking the time to be early evening. But it is thoroughly nighttime now. At the very least, you know you won’t have to contend with another sighting of that frightful villain from…

From when Aizawa fell through your window.

Perhaps that was what he wanted to talk about when he stalled--

Grumpypants: Send pic of cat

He doesn’t trust you. You can hardly blame him. You would be skeptical too if you had failed to get an immediate reply about Gudetama’s state.

You snap a picture of him on his climber and send it over.

Grumpypants: I miss my cat

This is the point at which you suspect Aizawa has been drinking beyond his limits.

You: You will be home with Gudetama before you know it. Have plenty of fun! I will keep him happy and safe, and he will be glad when you come through the door.

Grumpypants: No but then you will leave tho…

You squint at the line. Yes. You will leave. You will leave because he will pass out, and you have to start preparing to go back to work in the near future. Get yourself in order, demands and all. Set down a clean outfit. Shower.

You: It’s not that big of a deal.

Grumpypants: I miss Gudetama.

I miss you, tooth

*tooth

*toothpick

*TOOTH

*TOO

You would be chuckling, but this development is… Aizawa misses you? Your hands shake around your phone, almost dropping it. Does he think about you? Does he like you as more than a bother?

Or even more than a friend?

You remind yourself that he is incredibly drunk. Chances are, Kayama and Yamada are sitting there and laughing as he makes a fool of himself. Better he be texting you than his boss, you suppose.

You: Why would you miss me??

There is no immediate reply, and you suppose it must be over. He has forgotten which pocket his device is in, or his friends have finally rescued him from himself. You sit back down for a while and gaze upon the television in all its static glory. You don’t concentrate on a thing.

His typed words run through your head. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Every time it crosses your mind, it gets louder and sweeter. Your heart beats out of sync. Breathing gets a little harder than it should be.

He misses you?

Your notification sound echoes in the empty room, startling Gudetama from a near-nap state.

Grumptypants: Becuz youre nice. Smart. Youre patient all the time with me but I dont know what to say. You show up all the time randomly and I never want you to leave anymre. You go and I gt bad at talk to you. You shdnt be alone all the time? Jus come over whenever and Gudetama and me will be glad about it.

What the fuck?

What the fuck is he talking about?!
You pour over the garbled message again and again, picking out bits but unable to string it together into a cohesive thought. All of it is too kind, too good, too considerate to make sense.

He’s drunk. Aizawa is trashed and he isn’t thinking. That’s all this is.

You: Thank you. We can talk about it when you’re sober, though.

You hold your hand on your cheeks, the heat washing over your whole body. He doesn’t have any reason to feel affectionate towards you, and you need to dismiss the possibility.

The possibility of curling up with Aizawa on a sofa and falling asleep to a movie.

Of bottle-feeding kittens side-by-side.

Of rubbing noses together, just shy of the second your lips meet.

He’s drunk. He’s sloshed. He’s toasted, wasted, intoxicated.

And you? You are pitiful, holding on to your phone while standing in the middle of his apartment, clinging to the seconds in prayer of being replied to. Your heart races and flips.

Grumptypants: I wont. Id say th wrong thing. Hizashi says I’m abrasive

I dont want to make you hate me

I jus want to know you and spend time with u

You can’t quite stop the little whine that escapes your throat.

Somebody, somewhere, has to be having fun at your expense. This moment isn’t real.

You want to believe it is real.

Is it real?

You: I always want to spend time with you, Aizawa. You aren’t going to make me hate you. I think a lot of you, and I was worried you didn’t like me.

You swallow hard and send the note. You tremble as you walk to Gudetama, stroking his fur, losing your mind.

Grumpypants: I like you

You hold a hand over your mouth. Your head is spinning.

Grumpypants: I love yghjvbn

Your head is spinning the other way. You aren’t sure what that typo was supposed to be.

You know what you want it to be, though. And you won’t let yourself have that false hope without evidence. Because, if you’re wrong, and you let yourself believe this man has feelings for you when he was only emotional and inebriated?

You will be crushed.

BoldYeller: SHOUTA LOST PHONE PRIVILEGES. SORRY ABOUT THAT! HOPE HE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING TOO BAD??? WE WILL BE BACK IN 10 MIN, KK???

You take a lot of deep breaths and slap your cheeks a dozen times before preparing yourself to meet them at the door with the keys.

Yamada carries Aizawa inside piggyback-style. The birthday boy is slumped over his friend, completely passed out and a little pink in the face. Kayama follows behind, occasionally holding doors open or hiking Aizawa back up into the loud Hero’s grip.

“I told him to get off his phone, but he hid in the bathroom and kept texting,” Hizashi explains between gasps. You hold Gudetama as they move Aizawa inside. “By the time I found him, he’d sent you a ton of stuff. You okay? He didn’t get… bitchy at you, did he? Because he was gettin’ a little snotty with us.”

Kayama snorts. “He called me a hag and told Mic that he’d stuff napkins in his ears if he did karaoke.”

“It sounds like he was a handful,” you chuckle, helping to unroll the sleeping bag and zip Aizawa inside. He is peaceful there, face relaxed, chest rising and falling at a soothing rhythm. With the lights on, you can appreciate the display. He reminds you very much of a cat, down to the way he pulls his knees in towards his chest. You can’t help but smile.

You still feel the words he sent. They bounce and bound in your stomach.

I like you.

“You’re kinda quiet,” Kayama insists. “He didn’t send you a dick pic, did he?”

“What?! No!”

“Thank God,” Hizashi sighs. “I can’t imagine him coming back from a mistake like that.”

You frown. “Even if he had, it’s only me. It’s not as if I would be bothered or show it to anybody, so it wouldn’t be a big deal.” Not that you’re curious or anything.

You’re a little curious.

The other two glance at each other, sharing a silent conversation that you are unequipped to follow. Yamada ends up following up with a question while Kayama stands back. “So he really didn’t send you anything too crazy? He didn’t upset you?”

“He just wanted cat pictures,” you lie.

“… Well, that sure sounds like Shouta.”

They are both relieved. You can tell. What do they think Aizawa did?

Maybe what he did do?

The three of you file out of the apartment, with you lagging behind to give Gudetama one last pet. You see the fluffy monster go curl up with Aizawa before you shut the door. “Goodnight, Kitty. Goodnight, Aizawa.”

You join Hizashi and Nemuri in the hall, across from the maintenance closet. You know they are up to something. Since you first met them, they have had strange reactions to Aizawa, the sort that only trigger with your involvement. You want answers.

“I was wondering if… If the two of you know what he thinks of me?”

Silence.

You swallow hard. Is it bad? Does he think poorly of you? “It’s just… It isn’t a big deal or anything. I just wanted to know if he, was… No, never mind.”

“Never mind? Hang the fuck on!” The domineering woman grasps your hands. She looks deeply into your eyes, a savage grin on her face. “Little girl, do you have a crush on Shouta Aizawa?!”

Your face lights up in unreasonable shades of red, and it gives them all the answers they need.

Hizashi makes a gross squeal, which he subdues to keep from waking your mutual friend. He grabs your cheeks, leaning against Kayama to keep access to you. “Really, really, really?!”

“You really like that deviant bum?”

“I-I, I mean, yeah. Is that bad? Why are you both so excited about this?!”

“Because we’ve been putting up with his gross whining about you for weeks.”

“Honestly, yeah. Ever since he brought Gudetama to his apartment, he’s been acting different. Good different.” Yamada pulls back and puts a hand on his chin, posing in a mockery of deep thought. “I mean, he came to my place, all on his own, like he wanted to visit. He smiled a few times, right off. I figured it was the cat that jogged him out of the depressive episode, you know?” He closes his eyes, a little grumble in his throat. “And then I accidentally let Gudetama out… And when you came over to help, it started making a lot of sense.”

Kayama nods. “When he sent me to get treats, I could have gone to any pet shop and asked, but he wanted me to go to Organa specifically. Which is weird. But he also mentioned you personally, and I knew he was trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh my gosh!” You cover your face. They’ve already seen you at your reddest, and there is little point in hiding the embarrassment. “I didn’t have a clue! Is that why you wanted me to go to lunch with you, Yamada? And then you left?”

“I was trying to be a good wingman! But Shouta never bothers talking when I’m there, so I figured it would spark things if I exited the scene.”

In a way, it did. His plan succeeded.

“Right, and then a couple nights ago? When he ditched patrol and in the morning he called from your place?” Kayama grinned. “He won’t admit shit, but I know the two of you got naked and nasty.”

What?

What?

“Right...” Hizashi sighs. “And Shouta, he… He doesn’t know how to tell people he cares about them sometimes. We figured he and you had a good time, but he floundered on making it a serious commitment. So when he started texting you, my immediate assumption was that he would finish chasing you off...”

“That isn’t what happened! At all!” You choke a little on the air. “We never slept together! He came over because there… Oh no. Should I say? I don’t want to get him in trouble...”

“So you two didn’t get naked and do the sideways shuffle?”

“No! Well, he was naked, but it wasn’t a fun naked. It was an emergency.”

“I, too, engage in emergency nudity,” Kayama chuckles. She grins and has her hands on her hips. “Well, since he didn’t tell us what happened, you need to.” She pinches your cheek.

Your head spins. This is Hero stuff, and it should be left between them. But then again, you aren’t sure what became of the villain, or if there is danger to be concerned of. “He came in through my window--”

“Hot.”

“-- with some minor injuries, being pursued by this crazy, spidery, energy-sucking girl.”

“… Still a little hot.”

You and Yamada both shoot her a look. Then, you continue.

“She knocked out the electricity to the building, but didn’t find Aizawa because I let him inside. I think she got to him earlier at some point because he was in rough shape. He couldn’t really even keep his eyes open and he was soaking wet. So I just… I did my best to help. He spent the night sleeping on the chair, and I stayed up until the electricity came on, and dried off his clothes. That’s it.”

You read their expressions. Concerned. Shocked. A little disappointed, at least Kayama is.

“Did he never report it to the Hero Network?”

“He might have, but that same villain was sighted about five times after that day, so it must be buried by now. I didn’t think he was in trouble… If I knew he had gotten hurt, I wouldn’t have pestered him so much about that night.” Hizashi hisses. “Dammit, Shouta. Just talk to me sometimes.”

“I know for a fact that nobody has slapped handcuffs on her yet, so nobody gets to be solo tonight, okay?” Nemuri types something in on her phone. “It’s dark out, and we’re walking you home. So let’s get you leashed up, hm?”

“… I don’t really have to wear a leash, do I?” You frown. “I was also going to stop at the convenience store on my way back. Gotta pick up something for dinner...”

The three of you split apart when you get to the store. Kayama looks at the makeup for a while, yawning, prodding at herself while looking at her reflection. You fail to see the wrinkles she claims to need cream for. Hizashi decides to go to the CD stacks, even though you suspect he has access to every song on every album present. And you go to get some food.

The convenience store is nearly empty, and you feel a little bad being there. Even though the place is open 24 hours a day, you feel intrusive by being a middle of the night shopper. Until you reach the food aisle, you and your companions are the only people you see. There is one lady pacing the packaged fruits section, but she seems not to mind you.

You pause at a wall of Cup Noodle. They really went all-out stocking new flavors. You scowl at them all, because that just isn’t new enough to draw you back. Besides, who would want heavy, citrus seasoning on their ramen? Somebody crazy, probably. You move on towards the yogurts.

“I’m going to try them all~.”

You turn to the other shopper. She smiles and displays an arm-full of snack foods. You try to return the grin, even though something about being chatted up in the middle of the night by a stranger is making you anxious. She looks fine. She looks harmless. She throws her head back and spins around on her toes.

The light over her head flickers.

Whichever light she stands under, it flickers.

Then she turns back to you.

“It’s my favorite. I wait all year for these seasonal flavors! Make sure you try the little morsels while you still can!”

“I… I will! Thank you for your recommendation!”

You bow, and while you have her feet in your vision, you let your quirk activate.

Numerous packages and boxes of snack food throughout the convenience store glisten clearly to your eyes. Each of them has a vaguely yellow or orange label on them.

Yuzu Fruit.

Come here, my precious y uzu fruit! Tasty, tasty little Hero…

You glance towards the entrance, but your friends are nowhere to be seen.

You are alone with a villain.

Chapter Text

She tilts her head, staring at you unblinkingly. Her eyes have a milky sheen over them that fogs slightly less with every flicker of the light above. “Why aren’t you trying it? The Yuzu is the best flavor. It gives you good energy. Make sure you eat the tasty, tasty snack.”

You clear your throat and go to pick up the new Cup Noodle flavor. “This one, right? I’ll definitely try it.”

“Yes! Yes, you have to! It’s the best~.” She lets her head loll to the side when she smiles.

Her gaze does not leave you. Nor do you feel that she fully looks at you. It is as if she is staring through, to the other side of the store. You are transparent.

Your skin feels irritated, itchy under her gaze. You fear to move even a little. You fear setting off a timebomb.

This is the same criminal that nearly took down Eraserhead, a Pro Hero.

You are just an animal shelter employee.

You make a show of reading the label, hoping to buy yourself time. Eventually, Kayama and Yamada will come looking for you. Between both of them, they should be fine. They can handle her, right? Just stay calm until then.

Stay alive.

“Mmm… I should tell my friends to eat it, too, right?”

Her smoke-filled eyes shimmer. “Yes! Yes, everyone should try it. Tell them~!”

You take out your phone and snap a picture of the front of the container. Your fingers tremble while you try to open up all the useful contacts. “C-can you hold this while I type?” you ask, and shove the Cup Noodle into her free hand.

She giggles and waits.

You attach the picture to the group text.

You: help help help help help

“N-new Yuzu flavor,” you pretend to type aloud. “Really should try it, guys!”

You: Villain here with me help

“I’m sure it will be the best one ever...”

You peek up at her after you send, and she seems none the wiser to your tactic. So it will be fine. Any second from now, it will be fine.

Your phone dings and you check it, ready to follow any advice they have for you so you can get home alive.

Failure sending message. Try again?

You have no bars.

You close your eyes. This is not the time to panic. The more frightened you are, the more open you will be for an attack. You deal with angry, insane people all the time. This isn’t much different. You can handle this.

You put on your service-girl smile.

“I’m interested in trying other yuzu-flavored products! Can you please show me the very best ones?”

“Yes! Yes, I want to show you now!” She drops the arm-load of goodies on an empty shelf, some of the items clattering to the ground. You wait for her to turn so you can run the other way.

She takes you by the wrist and drags you along. “You want to have this drink. This one right here is so good!” She piles three cans into your arms. “They give you so much juice. They give you so much energy. Do you already have lots of delicious energy?”

You shake your head, forcing your smile not to crack. “No. I’m always very tired. So this will help me with that, right?”

She hums to herself and tightens her fingers around your wrist. “That’s no good. We should fill you with energy to make you delicious, little morsel.”

Freezer behind you stops working.

“There you are!”

Yamada and Kayama playfully punch at each other, each of them holding a plastic bag of unnecessary purchases. “What’s keeping you? Having a hard time finishing tonight?”

“Ah, did you make a new friend?” Hizashi chuckles.

You turn to look fully at them, still grinning as big as you can. Your eyes flash wide. You know she’s standing behind you. You have become her shield. The Power Sucker is peering at them from behind your shoulder. “Yes!” you chime. “I have made such a very good friend!”

“Uh… Are you okay?”

“I am very well! We were having a friendly discussion. About energy. We both want to get more energy.” You try to talk in a stilted manner, but not enough to betray your intention.

They figure it out. You hope that’s what their surprised glances mean.

You hope they have some kind of plan.

“You can play with your little friend later,” Midnight insists, taking a stride forward that, for her, looks casual. She goes to collect you.

The villain grabs you tighter, so she stops. “Tell them about the best snacks, little morsel, tasty girl.”

“Yes! Kayama, did you know? Yuzu fruit is the best flavor, and it’s in season now.”

She nods. “Yeah… Everyone likes some zing between their teeth.”

“If the Pro Hero comes closer, this little treat will be nothing but a zing between mine.” She rests her chin on your shoulder.

You feel a pit in your stomach.

“How do you know they’re Heroes?” you whisper, watching Kayama back away, hands out in the open.

“It’s obvious~!”

Apparently, their careers are knowable at a glance for everyone but you.

Midnight tugs at her blouse, slipping it off the side of her shoulder.

“No, no,” the Energy Eater tuts. “If you make me hurt, I’ll eat my snack. If you make me tired, I’ll eat her whole.”

You see Present Mic check his phone, frown, and stick the device back into his pocket. He doesn’t have a signal, either. No help is coming.

Neither of them has a clear shot that won’t hurt you just as much as the criminal.

This is it.

This is the situation that will kill you.

You close your eyes and try to find any idea for escape, but come up fruitless.

You will never see Gudetama again. You won’t be able to pet him, or give him the treats he loves, or let him fall asleep in your arms.

You’ll never pick up another kitten. Never hear another purr.

No more dogs or puppies. No more licks to the face.

You will never get to tell Aizawa how much you like him.

You will never hold his hand. Or huddle under a kotatsu together. Or share a meal. Or put his hair up for him. Or go for a walk in the park together.

Or take a nap with Aizawa and Gudetama, sitting on the couch, not really watching a movie.

It can’t.

Life can’t end this way.

“Are you tired?” you murmur to Creepy Crawly.

She giggles, her hair draping over your shoulder and chest. “Soooo so sleepy! I might drink your juices right now, just to keep my eyes open~!”

“I’m tired, too,” you tell her. “I’m probably more tired than you are.”

“Not true, not true!”

The lights go out, the air turns off. It comes back on after a few seconds.

“I’m so thirsty and hungry! See~?”

You see. She doesn’t need to touch the energy source to drain from it. That isn’t how her quirk activates.

Her eyes, maybe?

Maybe something else. It’s a huge gamble, believing she needs a line of sight to her target.

You have no other ideas.

“If that’s true, I’m not going to be much of a meal. Can I at least try that energy drink first?”

“Yes! Good, tasty, tasty little morsel!” She prods your arm forward, and you drop two of the cans. The thin aluminum bursts when it hits the floor, spraying the citrus-smelling beverages all over. “Drink it all, just for me~.”

You take a deep breath. You smell the tart liquid spilling out. The Pro Heroes grit their teeth, fists balled and shaking. They’re tense. Ready. Present Mic watches your fingers, then stands up straight and starts to take a deep breath.

You take the last can of Yuzu Spark into your right hand. Its chill bites into your skin.

You smash it against Spooky Girl’s face.

She screeches. You dive away. The sour drink stings her eyes.

“OH YEAH!” The power-scream bounces off the wall, shattering nearby glass and rendering the villain blind and deaf. She slips on the ground.

Midnight’s sleeping powder sets in on the area. Mic grabs you up and hustles to the front of the building.

“I’m on the scene of a villain arrest in progress. The Cantina Convenience Store here in downtown Musutafu was just home to a criminal incident that endangered the lives of the store’s clerk, as well as an unnamed hostage. Thankfully, Professional Heroes were on site while off-duty, and resolved the situation without any harm done to civilians.”

You shake your head, sitting hidden in the ambulance while the field reporter rambles on. You aren’t hurt, but your friends are paranoid. At least the paramedic was nice enough to let you calm down from the incident and stay in the back for a while.

Blue and red lights flash in the darkness, over top of yellow light from the store. It’s a big headache, waiting to develop. It’s cold out, but you have no sweater on. You’ll be tired as Hell tomorrow, and probably not prepared to go to work the day after.

But you’re happy.

You have the dumbest smile on your face.

Your life has becomes so strange and fantastic. Hanging out with Heroes. Fighting villains. Having a handful of friends. Crushing on a guy.

Without you noticing, the cycle broke. You are no longer trapped.

Yamada knocks on the ambulance door to announce himself before opening up and coming inside. “How do you feel? Not dizzy or tired?”

“No, just regular adrenaline-high jitters.” You almost laugh. Soon, you will come down from this mood. Right now, it’s all you feel. “You don’t need to check on me so often. My hands are really shaking, I guess. But I’m good! I’m great! Thanks for catching on to my plan, by the way.”

“I got you, bud.” He pats your knee. “You did a good job. But, uh… You might want to get yourself really calm really fast?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Sort of. You must have left the television on at Aizawa’s and he saw the news.”

“Oh no.”

“And he’s on his way over.”

“Oh. Oh no.”

Yamada nods at your apprehension. “It might not be pretty. I doubt he’s completely sober.”

So do you. Either he’s still off his ass, or he’s moved directly into a rage hangover.

“Kayama and I need to go fill out a report with the police about this. I’ll be back soon, or she will. Can you handle things here?”

“You mean sitting here, twiddling my thumbs? Yeah, I think I can do that just fine.”

He chuckles and shuts the door most of the way. You look at your phone, which has gotten sticky in the energy drink. You are not able to get the screen to react properly.

Which is bad, given the twenty or so texts in your message box.

You set about to spit-clean the surface and wipe it with your shirt when you hear the battle-cry of a wild man. The call resonates off the metal hull of the ambulance.

“Where is she?!”

You get up and open the door a little to peek outside, considering staying hidden. You’ve seen Aizawa upset over Gudetama’s escape. But this? This is drunken lunacy.

“Oh, hey Shouta!” Yamada tries to move between you and the view of the shouting madman. “You feel okay being out here? Uh… Why did you bring the cat with you?”

“I don’t have a sitter, Hizashi.”

You hear a raspy, displeased meow.

“Hizashi, you tell me where she is, right fucking now.”

“Wh-who?” He asks, playing coy, playing dumb. “Midnight? She’s right over there.”

“Where is my wife?!”

Wife? Good graces, the man is out of his mind. You can’t help but smile at the spectacle and wait to see more.

Hizashi seems just as close to laughter as you, and actively holds his friend back. “You aren’t married, you know? Maybe you should go home and--”

You see Aizawa’s eyes go red. His hair floats upward, freed from the bonds of gravity. It sways ominously, barely stirred by the wind.

“… Shouta, I’m not even using my quirk, what are you doing?”

“I’m erasing the bullshit. You’re full of it.”

The blond shakes his head. You decide it’s time to rescue Hizashi from what is a truly intimidating, if ineffective, stare. You press the door more open and wave shyly. “Hi,” you greet.

When you see the state he is in, in public, you purse your lips and choke off a giggle.

He is wearing a red, cotton sweater with the top button missing. Not great, but nice. It’s one you’ve never seen and wouldn’t expect him to own. He has nothing on under it, though, and you can see a hint of chest hair from the edge of the uppermost button, which is in the wrong hole.

He has pink pants on.

Bright pink. And they aren’t corduroy or slacks. He is wearing pink track pants.

Down a bit further, he has a pair of flip-flops with cat-shaped toes and calico printing.

Aizawa carries in his arms a disgruntled Gudetama. The Lazy Egg himself has a harness and leash on, each as yellow as a fresh banana. He huffs and struggles to escape, but Aizawa gives him no purchase.

The man, still with eyes wide, still with hair ominous, leaps up into the ambulance and closes the two of you in together.

You look up at him, unable to figure out what he wants. Unable to activate your quirk and find a way to appease him.

Gude mews again.

“You. You have to stop getting involved in these dangerous situations!” He pauses to swallow. You watch his throat. “You’re so prone to danger. Are you jinxed or something?” His voice gets weak at the end.

He lets Gudetama go. The feline shakes himself off and goes to sit in the corner and clean himself of the indignity. The leash drags behind him.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, not entirely honest. None of these things are your fault, at least most of them aren’t. But all of them have given your life a remarkable shake. You would rather face danger every day than go back to being content with your unhappiness. “I’m fine, though. And the villain was even arrested, so--”

He wraps his arms around you, his scruffy cheek pressed to your smooth one. His knees hit the rim of the stretcher. “You could have gotten killed. I would never have told you anything, and you would be gone.” His voice is hushed. Not a whisper, but a drowning of his own tones within fear and relief.

You hold him closer, guiding his forehead against your shoulder. His breath smells like sake. His hair is tangled. You untie the little knots as you speak to him, matching his quietness. “I was scared of that, too. But I wasn’t going to leave you and Gudetama.” You shiver, feeling him rest his lips on your collarbone. “I love both of you way too much.”

“I love you, too.”

You pat the back of his head. “Maybe wait until you’re sober to say that? It would mean a lot more that way.”

He reaches up to wipe his eyes, his knuckles scraping over your skin. “What if I don’t? I might chicken out, or… say something that makes you hate me.”

Perhaps Aizawa has been aware of his friends’ hovering. If he had the confidence to begin with, it may have been smothered by their apprehensions. If it was never there before, he is in good company. “I’ll write a reminder for you. And I promise not to be upset if you can’t say it to me.”

He nods, his eyes pressed to your shoulder.

You finish fixing his hair, and then pat him on the back. Your fingers find something that doesn’t match. You pull up a sock, which had been static-stuck to the back of his sweater.

You laugh.

You let go of your self-consciousness and express your joy. Your cheeks hurt from grinning and your belly hurts from holding back the giggles. “You aren’t wearing the same outfit as usual tonight,” you manage through tears.

“I wanted to impress you!”

“You did! You did, Shouta, I’m really impressed!”

He stands up and holds your cheeks in his hands, his thumbs resting lopsided next to your ears. He looks down at you, his vision not entirely trained on your face. It dips towards your neck and sometimes off to the overhead cabinets. “You’re amazing. I don’t… But you’re also a clueless idiot!” He huffs. “You can’t go saying things like… like that I’m brave and handsome and nice, and other lies, and then think I don’t want to spend time with you! Fucking… cut that out. Stupid...” Aizawa is pouting. His lip quivers.

Evidently, he wasn’t as asleep as you thought when you confessed to him on that rainy night.

The inebriated man prattles on. “Besides… You can’t give me your memories. I’m not good enough to take your memories from you. You’re only allowed to share them, and be with me when you share them.”

“My… memories?”

“The photo album! All those pictures of you and Gudetama… You can’t leave that for me.”

The unwrapped gift. When did he have time to look through that? Hadn’t he been passed out when you left?

He squishes your cheeks and lips against the heels of his palms. “Gudetama is happier when you’re around. And so am I. So come and see me more often, okay?”

You reach up and tangle your fingers with his, partly to pry them from your face. “I’ll come to see you way too often if you keep asking like that.”

“With you, there’s no such thing as too often.”

Somebody knocks on the ambulance door.

“I’m busy! Come back in an hour!” Aizawa yells.

“Hot!!”

You roll your eyes. “No, we aren’t going to be in here that long.”

“Really? Your stamina sucks.”

You pat Aizawa on the arm until he lets you up, and then open the door to talk to Kayama. The drunk, clingy man behind you goes to pry Gudetama out of the driver’s seat. “Is everything sorted out? It’s taken care of?”

“Oh yeah, we’ve all finished. You’re free.”

“In that case, I’ll go home with Aizawa.”

Her face lights up. Kayama licks her lips as she chuckles. “Yeah? You two gonna make good on that emergency nudity?” She cuts herself off before you can answer, pulling something from her purse and tucking it into yours. “Whatever you two end up doing, be safe. Mic is gonna walk you home, and I’ll make sure the police get that crazy wackadoo to jail safe and sound. And if something happens, good or bad? Call me. I will whip Aizawa’s ass if he makes you cry.”

You wave her a farewell and go to help Aizawa collect Gudetama and head back to his apartment.

You are not sure how to feel about the box of condoms in your purse’s front pocket.

Aizawa has his arm around you, his knees locked against yours, his breath in your hair. Gudetama curls against your stomach. For a while, you lay awake and stare at the glow of your own hand.

When you look at the desires and loves of Gudetama, the spot where your body meets Aizawa’s hold shines the brightest. A combination of people this cat has come to trust and depend upon.

“Are we your favorite things, Gude?” You pet the cat, drawing up static sparkles and a loud purr.

And when you stare a while at Aizawa’s hand, even Gudetama becomes pale compared to the luster of your own body.

“Am I really your favorite thing, Aizawa?” You lean back against him, your head to his chest.

“Mmm...”

You smile. Even if he never says a thing, you know the truth.

Chapter Text

“Sweetie, if you’re that tired, we should have gone to bed right away. We didn’t have to… Hang on.” You clear your voice. “You’re alone, right? Kayama isn’t listening?”

“It’s just me and the empty room,” he replies to you over the phone. The thickness of his voice hints at the beginning of a cold.

You sigh, glad you can continue without the great Innuendo Interrupter on the receiving end. “We didn’t have to do the frickle frackle.”

You can hear him roll his eyes. “It’s fine. We had to celebrate somehow, right?”

You did. It was an accomplishment plenty worthy of loving. All the moving boxes, after a year of procrastination, were unpacked and put away. “I’m glad we did. It was really good.”

“You’re welcome.”

You switch ears for the phone, and switch arms for the bottle-feeding. The greedy kitten squeals and claws for her milk.

Your boyfriend hums after hearing the sound. “She must be getting stronger. Is Gudetama still throwing a fit when Yachinyan cries?”

“No, no. He’s been over it for a couple of hours. He’s ignoring her, and mad at me because I won’t give him a third breakfast.” You bump your elbow and skew the bottle, causing little Yachi to cry out again. “Ah, you’re a really dramatic little girl...”

“Rude.”

“Not you, dear.”

“I know,” he teases back. Aizawa sniffles. He’s definitely starting to get a cold. “Anyway, I’m heading back early. The Jolly Jackass is taking my class for some kind of combat training, so I won’t bother sticking around.”

“Ah, you could be a little nicer to All Might. He means well.”

“He’s a terrible teacher.”

“You’re not the best at it, either. It’s his first year. Cut him some slack once in a while?”

“… Only because I love you.”

Your heart swells with pride. How did you get so lucky? How did you end up with a man this good? “I’m glad. I’ll meet you at the school, and we can walk home together. You sound like you could use a little tea, anyhow.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment. You take your time getting Yachinyan to let go of the empty bottle. “Sounds good. What, twenty minutes?”

“Ye--” You frown as your phone vibrates. “Assume thirty, I’ve got a work call.”

“Got it. See you soon.” He hangs up on you, which makes it a lot easier to switch calls without fumbling.

“Hello, hello?”

“Boss, I have a problem.” Juhi clears his throat. “Not a big one. Just enough that I’m really sorry I had to call you on your day off.”

You go to the kitchen and fiddle with the hot water and the electric kettle. “Don’t worry about it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He hesitates, grumbling a little off to the side. “I don’t know where I put the file for Ahiru. The dog? And the adopter you cleared is here to pick her up. He’s getting kind of angry.”

Juhi’s desk-management skills are lacking. Then again, you always were the one who stayed up front, even before your promotions. “First of all, don’t panic. You can handle it.”

“O-okay.”

“Second, if you look on the third file box down, next to the printer, it should all be there. I had to get her vet work summed up, and I probably forgot to put it in the usual spot.”

“I’ll look there right away. If it isn’t there, then…?”

“Then it’s lost.”

“Fuck?!” He whines. “What if it’s lost? This guy is already mad!”

You shrug. “If you don’t find it, I will, or I’ll pull up the logs and call the vet tomorrow. You’ll have to send him off with Ahiru and the adoption form, and ask for his mailing address or that he call me in the morning tomorrow, after we open, so I can schedule a time for him to come get the papers.”

Juhi takes a deep breath, and you drop a few bags of tea into a thermos of near-blistering water. “Thanks, Boss. You always stay calm and know what to do. You’re talented at this kind of thing.”

You are not.

This is experience. This is resolve to be a leader and a warrior, all things you have learned from your boyfriend and your other Hero friends.

It doesn’t come easy. And it doesn’t come naturally. But you drag it from yourself when you must, and always keep going.

“If you’ve got it taken care of, I’m gonna let you go, Juhi. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Yes! Sorry again! I’ll be more careful next time.”

That situation handled, you prepare Aizawa’s tea, and go to tuck in both of your spoiled kitties. Yachi nibbles on the edge of Gudetama’s pillow of choice. The older cat glares at the kitten, tail flicking, but not making a move.

You stroke Gudetama’s back. “Don’t pretend you hate her. I know you actually love Yachinyan very much. You can’t hide that from me.”

He turns away from both of you, his tail becoming the target of the baby’s playtime fun.

You hurry towards the school gates, only to see the place crowded with riffraff. Paparazzi and reporters shout towards the buildings, receiving no answer and huddling in towards your sick boyfriend. Shouta and Hizashi try to manage the onslaught without any luck. You can see their faces every once in a while, but this forest of fools is dense.

“Where is All Might?!”

“How can UA justify occupying so much of his time? If the nation were to fall into danger, our Symbol of Peace will be tied up here!”

You sigh. Normally, you would leave this to them, but your sweetie hasn’t felt good all day, and these vipers are relentless.

Operation Laser-Pointer.

“There he goes!” you shout, pointing down the block at a group of businessmen who round the corner before they can be identified. “All Might!” You take about five running steps in that direction.

The stampede takes off towards the decoy. You smile to yourself and hurry to Aizawa.

Hizashi laughs, almost snorting a little between guffaws. “I LOVE IT!” He slaps his best friend on the back. “Damn, if I knew it was gonna be that easy I would have started off on that idea.”

You shrug. “It works really well at the shelter. Pretend to throw a ball, and the dogs will zoom right across the yard.”

Shouta drags himself to you, resting his chin on your head, opening himself up for a good hug. You oblige. “Are you feeling any better, baby?”

“No.”

“Then we should get you home to bed. Here’s your tea, so have a little on the walk back.” You shove the warm thermos into his hand. He grumbles about something, but uncaps it. “You can’t survive off of squeeze pouches and jello.”

“I can try.”

Yamada smiles, a hearth-like warmth to his gaze. “You two are so cute together.”

“Stop being a sap.”

“Aww! Shouta is embarrassed!”

“Is somebody picking on Sensei?!”

Aizawa hisses and shakes his head, turning to look at the entrance as a gaggle of teenagers walk past. They follow behind All Might like ducklings, obedient about staying in line, but not about behaving well. All of them are dressed in colorful, outlandish garb. You assume that to be their Hero costumes.

You hope that’s why they look so silly, in any case.

They bob around, each of them trying to get a clearer view of you. Some go so far as to shout at their teacher. “Sensei! Who is the pretty lady?!”

“You have a very lovely dress, Miss!”

“Sensei, is that your girlfriend?!”

“I’m going to kill all of them,” he mutters, tucking you behind his arm. You can only laugh as he glares and they fall into line, but still gossip to each other.

All Might claps his hands. “All right, everyone stay in a group! Young Iida, please continue to lead the class to the training grounds.” A straight-laced boy nods and beckons the other high-schoolers to follow him, freeing the famous Hero to go visit you.

For all the months they have been colleagues, Shouta has yet to introduce you to All Might. He is larger than life, as well as larger than large. Mighty Tall Big Man extends a hand to you. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m All Might! And you must be Mrs. Aizawa!”

You feel that hot wave of shock creep up on you. “We… I’m… I’m not...”

“We aren’t married yet,” Aizawa seethes, continuing to stand between you and the monolithic Hero. You manage to reach around him and shake hands, but All Might is as flustered as you are when he realizes his error. “Jeez...”

“I apologize! Sorry, sorry...” His smile never fades, but his expression is tight. “In any case! I must go see to the education of tomorrow’s Heroes! Present Mic, would you like to come assist me?”

Yamada is wheezing, holding onto his knees to catch his breath through tears and laughter. “Yep! I’ll be right there! I’ll...” He falls into another peel of giggles.

“Good grief,” Shouta scoffs, taking you by the hand and leading you down the street, away from the bright yellow Buffoon Brigade. “Sorry about those two.” He sips the drink and falls silent. You wonder if he hates it until he takes a second gulp. His eyes close a little. He must be enjoying the soothing sensation in his throat.

You hold his hand against your chest and smile at him. “I can’t wait to go home and take a nap with you.”

“Didn’t you just wake up?”

“It’s my day off; I can do what I want.”

“You truly are the woman of my dreams.” The irony he tries for falters with his genuine smile.

You nudge his arm with your cheek. “By the way, what did you mean by ‘we aren’t married yet’?”

He pauses and looks down at you. “… Nothing.”

“Whatever you say,” you tease him. But you aren’t quite that clueless.