Chapter Text
Four Months
Izuku’s tail swishes in frustration, the bright orange fur stark against the dim snowy night. His emerald eyes gleam in the cold light of a nearby streetlamp. /Four months/, he repeats in his head, a quiet growl escaping as his ears flatten against his head like an airplane in descent. He watches the few people brave enough to wander the streets this late, their footsteps muffled by the steadily falling snow. Shivers rattle through his small frame, his body huddled in a tight loaf position atop a cold concrete fence, every limb tucked underneath him in a vain attempt to stay warm.
The snow piles around him, a soft, persistent weight he can’t escape. His ears flicker as the wind shifts, but he’s used to this now—the cold, the biting wind against his fur-covered body. What he’s not used to, even after all this time, is the hunger. It gnaws at his insides, making him feel smaller, and weaker. He doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this.
Four months ago, Izuku thinks again, staring blankly into the snowy night. Four months ago, he was human—or at least mostly human. His quirk had always been strange. He could transform into a cat. It had been useful, especially when he worked as a vigilante, sneaking around and gathering intel, taking down villains twice his size by relying on his speed and agility rather than brute force. He’d thought he had it all figured out. But then, four months ago, everything changed.
It happened in the middle of a mission. He had been tracking a particularly dangerous villain, way out of his league, as /usual/. He got too close—a rookie mistake—and the villain had nearly caught him. Instinctively, Izuku shifted into a cat, hoping to escape. And it worked… at least for the moment. He darted away, paws skidding on the pavement as he raced through the streets, ducking through alleys and under fences. But when he finally stopped, safe and hidden, his heart racing in his tiny chest, he realized something was wrong.
He couldn’t change back.
At first, he thought it was temporary, that maybe he was just too tired or stressed. But as days passed, then weeks, and now months, the shift back to his human form never came. He had no idea why. Was it some kind of defense mechanism? Had his body locked him into this form because it thought he was still in danger? Or was he too weak, too drained, to return to normal?
Whatever the reason, it sucked. Without hands, he couldn’t write in his notebooks, couldn’t take notes on the villains he watched from the shadows. He couldn’t communicate, not in any meaningful way. All he could do was survive. And that, he was starting to realize, was getting harder with each passing day.
The only silver lining was that, as a cat, he was safe. Specifically, he was safe from /Eraser Head/.
Izuku's whiskers twitch at the thought of the hero, /him/. That man had been after him for months before his transformation. Aizawa had come so close to catching him on more than one occasion. Izuku had always been careful, but he could tell that Aizawa had started to recognize him, had started to get under his skin, to dig into his past. There was a part of Izuku—a very small part—that wondered if maybe Aizawa cared, that maybe he was trying to help him in some way. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t need anyone’s help. Not from Aizawa, and certainly not from the system. He’d been dodging that his entire life.
But now, in his current form, Aizawa had no idea where to look. Izuku had effectively disappeared. And there was no way the man would ever guess that the stray orange cat hanging around the city was actually the vigilante he’d been chasing for months.
For the first time in a long time, Izuku was invisible. He was free. Free from Aizawa’s relentless pursuit, free from whatever fate might have awaited him if the hero had caught him—juvenile detention? Foster care? Who knew? He didn’t care. He didn’t need it. All that mattered was that he was safe now.
But still… Izuku couldn’t help but wonder. Did Aizawa ever think about him? The boy he had chased for so long, the vigilante who always slipped just out of reach? Did he ever cross Aizawa’s mind, or had the hero simply moved on, glad to be rid of the nuisance? Was he relieved that Izuku was gone, or did he… miss him, in some strange way?
Does anyone even think about me anymore? Izuku’s ears droop slightly at the thought. His mother was gone, and his father—he hadn’t found him yet. He had no one. The loneliness, a familiar ache, presses down on him as he watches the snow fall, the city moving on without him.
A sudden shout snaps him out of his thoughts.
“That cat is mewing again! Shut up!” A voice yells from inside a nearby house, angry and sharp. Izuku barely has time to react before something—a rock, a hard one—hits him square in the head.
He yowls in pain, startled, and loses his balance. The cold stone fence shifts under his paws as he tumbles backward, falling unceremoniously into the snow-covered yard on the other side. His vision swims for a moment, the sharp sting of the impact ringing through his skull.
He lands hard, the snow softening his fall only slightly. His small body crumples as the pain pulses through his head, disorienting him. For a moment, all he can hear is the distant ringing, the dull thud of his own heartbeat in his ears. He blinks, his vision doubling before slowly, agonizingly, returning to normal.
The world seems too bright, too loud, and for a moment, all Izuku can do is lie there, stunned, his heart racing. It’s been a long time since he’s been this defenseless, this vulnerable.
The smell of wet snow and iron fills his nose as he struggles to his feet. He’s not safe here, that much he knows.
Izuku blinked slowly, his vision fuzzy and his body heavy as he struggled to stand on all fours. His small orange paws sank into the snow-covered grass, the icy coldness numbing his limbs as he swayed in place. When he finally looked down, he saw it—red streaks staining the pristine white snow beneath him. Blood. /His/ blood.
The pain hit him like a wave, sharp and unrelenting. His head throbbed from where the rock had struck him, and the rest of his body ached from the rough fall into the yard. Every movement sent fresh jolts of pain through his skull and down his spine, his tiny heart pounding in his chest.
He staggered, collapsing back into the snow for a moment, the cold biting into his fur but doing little to soothe the burning pain radiating from his wounds.
‘Ouch, ouch, ouch… why? Why do humans have to be so mean sometimes?’ he thought miserably, his ears pinned flat against his head as his tail flicked weakly behind him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt by people, and he doubted it would be the last. As a human, he had suffered his fair share of bullying and cruelty. But it was different when he was a cat—/so/ much worse. People kicked cats, threw things at them, and barely gave them a second thought. He was small and defenseless now. A single stone had left him bleeding and dazed, the bitter reality of his situation settling in once again.
He had no one to help him. No one to put a bandage on his wound, no one to kiss his forehead like his mother used to when he scraped his knees as a child. His chest tightened at the memory of her gentle hands, her soft voice telling him everything would be alright. But she was gone—long gone. Buried in a grave he had visited far too many times, a place that had become his only real home. He had even slept there on cold nights like this one, curled up against the cold stone of her tombstone, seeking some kind of comfort in her absence.
But now, there was no comfort to be found. Just pain and snow and blood.
For a brief moment, Izuku collapsed into the snow again, his body refusing to move. His vision blurred, the snow's white mixing with the yard's dark shadows as his strength ebbed away. He knew he couldn’t stay here, though. If the human who lived in this backyard found him like this… or worse, if there was a dog nearby… Izuku shuddered. His ears twitched at the thought. He had seen what some people did to strays. He couldn’t let himself be caught, not like this. Not when he was so weak.
Forcing himself to stand, Izuku stumbled forward, his legs shaking beneath him. Every step felt like agony, his ribs screaming in protest with every breath. He was so thin now, his small body malnourished and fragile. If it weren’t for the human brain inside his kitten body, he was sure he would have died by now. It was only his quick thinking, his ability to outsmart humans and avoid danger, that had kept him alive. But that didn’t change the fact that he was still just a kitten—a helpless, tiny creature trying to survive in a world that had no place for him.
He made it to the fence, the familiar rough stone scraping against his paws as he tried to climb. His body shook with the effort, his back legs slipping in the snow as he tried to pull himself up. He only managed to hook his front paws over the top, his back legs dangling uselessly beneath him. His claws scraped against the stone, and for a moment, he thought he might fall again. But with one last push, he hauled himself up, collapsing onto the fence and panting heavily.
‘I have to move,’ he thought, staggering to his feet. The alleyway. There was always food there, even if it wasn’t much. Even if it sometimes made him sick. It was that or starve.
His ribs ached with every step as he made his way down the fence, hopping down into the street with a grunt of pain. The snow crunched beneath his paws as he limped toward the narrow alleyway he had visited so many times before. It was a hidden spot, tucked away between two rundown buildings, where people occasionally left scraps of food for the stray cats that lived there. Izuku had learned to be careful around the other cats, though. They didn’t like him. They could tell he wasn’t like them—not completely, anyway. Something about him was… off. And they hated him for it.
He slipped into the alley, the familiar smells of rotting food and damp concrete filling his nose. His stomach churned as he approached a half-empty trash can, the lid askew, offering a glimpse of what little was inside. His mouth watered at the sight of a few discarded scraps of meat, barely edible but better than nothing.
He jumped up, his body trembling as he pulled the scraps free, his teeth sinking into the cold, tough meat. It was hard to chew, his stomach protesting at the taste, but he forced himself to swallow. He needed food. He couldn’t afford to be picky, not when his body was this weak, this fragile.
As he gnawed at the scraps, his ears twitched at the sound of something—a distant, pained cry. His head shot up, alert. Another cry, followed by hissing. /Cats,/ he realized, and something else. His eyes narrowed as he followed the sound, limping toward the far end of the alley.
When he rounded the corner, his heart dropped. Two cats were cornered against a wall, their fur puffed up and their ears flattened as they hissed and yowled at a snarling dog. The dog was massive, its teeth bared as it growled, pacing back and forth, ready to strike.
The cats were terrified.
‘Stay away!’ one of them yowled, his voice high-pitched with fear.
‘We can’t fight it off! It’s going to kill us!’ the other cried, her tail flicking wildly as she tried to back further into the corner.
Izuku froze, his body trembling. His instincts screamed at him to run, to hide, to avoid the fight. But something inside him—something human—told him he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
He couldn’t leave them to die.
Taking a deep breath, Izuku darted forward, his small body moving with surprising speed despite his injuries. He let out a loud, sharp yowl, drawing the dog’s attention. The dog turned toward him, its eyes narrowing as it sized him up. Izuku’s heart raced in his chest, but he didn’t back down.
‘Get out of here!’ he hissed at the cats. ‘I’ll distract it! Run!’
The two cats hesitated for a moment, their eyes wide with disbelief. But then they bolted, dashing past Izuku and disappearing into the shadows of the alley. Now it was just him and the dog.
Izuku’s fur stood on end as the dog growled, its muscles tensing as it prepared to lunge. He needed to think fast. He couldn’t take this dog down in a straight fight—he was just a kitten. But maybe… if he could outsmart it…
The dog charged, its teeth snapping at Izuku’s face. He dodged to the side, his small size working to his advantage as he darted out of the way. He turned and scratched at the dog’s side, his claws digging into its flesh. The dog yelped, surprised by the attack, and spun around, snapping at him again.
Izuku jumped back, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t keep this up for long. His body was already screaming in protest, his ribs aching with every breath. But he had to keep going. He had to survive.
The dog lunged again, and this time, Izuku wasn’t fast enough. It caught him by the tail, its teeth sinking in with a sickening crunch. Izuku let out a sharp yowl of pain as he was lifted off the ground, his body swinging wildly as the dog shook him like a ragdoll. The pain was excruciating, white-hot, and blinding, his vision going dark at the edges as he struggled to free himself.
Just when he thought it was over, he heard a low growl—followed by another. Then another.
More cats.
Out of the shadows, they came—at least six of them, their fur bristling as they surrounded the dog. The dog hesitated, its grip on Izuku loosening as it realized it was outnumbered. The largest cat, a sleek black tom with a torn ear, hissed loudly, his voice like gravel.
‘Let him go,’ the tom growled.
The dog dropped Izuku unceremoniously onto the ground. It backed away, snarling at the cats, but it didn’t attack again. Finally, with a low growl of frustration, the dog turned and fled, disappearing into the night.
Izuku lay on the ground, his body trembling with pain and exhaustion. His tail throbbed where the dog had bitten him, the sharp pain radiating up his spine. He could barely move, his limbs heavy and weak, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
The black tom padded over to him, his yellow eyes narrowing as he looked Izuku up and down.
‘You’re lucky we showed up when we did, kitten,’ the tom said, his voice rough but not unkind. ‘What were you thinking, going up against a dog like that?’
Izuku managed a weak smile, his vision swimming as he fought to stay conscious.
‘I… couldn’t just leave them,’ he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
The tom snorted.
‘You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But you’re no fighter.’
Izuku wanted to laugh, but the pain was too much. Instead, he closed his eyes, the world around him fading into darkness as his body finally gave in to the overwhelming exhaustion.
As he drifted in and out of unconsciousness, his last thought was of his mother.
Everything was a blur. Fuzzy sounds and distorted voices echoed around him, punctuated by the biting pain coursing through his tiny body. His limbs felt heavy, his senses dulled by the overwhelming ache that pulsed through every inch of him. He didn’t remember much of what had happened after the dog had released him—everything past that was hazy, smeared together in a mix of pain and exhaustion.
But he did remember the sensation of being lifted—his scruff pinched between sharp teeth, his small body hanging limply in the air like a kitten being carried by its mother. It didn’t hurt; instead, it made him feel strangely safe, a deep-rooted instinct telling him to go limp and trust the one carrying him. He hung there, every ounce of fight drained from him. He tried to open his eyes, but the world around him was dark and swirling, his vision too blurry to make out anything beyond vague shapes and muted colors.
His ears twitched weakly as muffled voices reached him, words floating in and out of his awareness.
He vaguely remembered the voice of the black tomcat, the one who had saved him, growling orders to the others as they moved through the shadows of the alleyway.
‘Keep up,’ one cat muttered. ‘He’s not going to last much longer if we don’t get him somewhere warm.’
‘He doesn’t belong here,’ hissed another, its voice dripping with disdain. ‘Look at him. A kitten like that, scrawny and bleeding all over the place—he’s not made for this life. He’d never survive out here. He’d be dead by morning if we left him.’
‘The way he just threw himself in front of that dog… for a couple of cats he didn’t even know…’ A third voice, this one quieter, almost awed. ‘It makes him a good cat, you know? Brave.’
‘Brave?’ The first voice scoffed. ‘More like foolish. He should’ve just run. No cat in their right mind would fight a dog like that.’
‘Maybe he’s just too soft. Too human.’
The voices quieted, and Izuku tried to focus, to make sense of what they were saying. They were talking about him—he knew that much. The words slipped through his mind like water, difficult to hold onto. But one word kept repeating, over and over, like a mantra.
Human.
‘He’s not one of us, and he never will be. With the way he just gave himself up for those other cats… he’s got no instincts to survive. That makes him a good cat, but a good cat doesn’t make it out here.’
Izuku felt something twist painfully in his chest. He wasn’t trying to be a “good” cat. He was just trying to help. Just trying to do something right, even in this small, broken body of his.
His mind reeled. They knew. Somehow, the other cats knew he wasn’t like them, that he was different. That he didn’t belong here. A pang of fear shot through him, his body twitching weakly in the grasp of the cat carrying him. Would they leave him now? Abandon him, just like everyone else?
But then, another voice spoke, soft and decisive. “He doesn’t belong here, but… I know a human who would take him. A kind one.”
Izuku wanted to protest, to defend himself, but he didn’t have the strength. He was barely conscious, his thoughts sluggish and unsteady. He could hear them talking, the words swirling around in his muddled brain, but he couldn’t make sense of them. Everything felt distant as if he were listening through a thick layer of cotton.
‘Humans, huh,’ the black tom growled thoughtfully, his grip on Izuku’s scruff gentle but firm as he carried him effortlessly. ‘A soft life for a soft heart. A human who would take him in. He’s got no place here. He’ll die if we leave him.’
Izuku barely registered the words, his consciousness slipping in and out as the tom carried him. The world around him was a blur of movement and shadows, the wind whipping against his fur as the snow fell steadily, covering everything in a thick white blanket. The pain in his body was dulling, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that made it hard to think, hard to breathe.
He wasn’t sure how long they traveled, only that the snow eventually stopped falling on him. There was a dull thump as the tom cat jumped up, the sensation of cold stone under his paws giving way to something smoother. He was being carried up steps, the slope disorienting, and then he was placed gently on the ground. His legs buckled as soon as they touched the surface, his entire body sagging with relief as he sank into the small patch of warmth.
He blinked slowly, his vision swimming. Where…?
Before he could make sense of where he was, a loud creak split the air. He was on a doorstep—a wooden doorstep, the paint chipped and worn from years of use. The world around him was quiet, the alley and the snow-covered streets behind him dark and empty.
Izuku blinked, his gaze drifting up toward the tall building in front of him. A house. They had brought him to someone’s house. He tried to stand, his legs wobbling beneath him, but before he could gather his bearings, the door in front of him creaked open.
A flood of light spilled out, warm and bright against the darkness. He squinted, his eyes burning from the sudden brightness, his body instinctively shrinking back. But then, he saw it—the silhouette of a tall figure standing in the doorway, framed by the light behind him. The figure stepped forward, bending down slightly, and Izuku’s heart nearly stopped.
And then he saw him.
A familiar figure with long, messy black hair and a thick beard.
You have got to be kidding me.
His ears flattened, his tail twitching weakly behind him as he tried to scramble backward, panic surging through his veins. He didn’t get very far. His legs were too weak, his body trembling violently as he tried to push himself up, only to collapse in a heap again.
No, no, no—anywhere but here! he thought frantically, his heart pounding. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Out of all the places the cats could have taken him, out of all the humans they could have chosen—
The figure in the doorway crouched down, the light behind him casting his features into sharp relief. Izuku stared, wide-eyed and horrified, as he took in the familiar lines of his face, the dark, piercing eyes that had haunted his dreams and chased him through the city.
Eraserhead. Aizawa Shouta.
The cat who had saved him—no, delivered him—watched from a corner, hidden in the shadows. His yellow eyes glinted, making sure Izuku was being seen, making sure he had been brought to this man of all people.
No, no, no, no! Izuku’s thoughts raced wildly, desperation clawing at him as he tried to call out, to say something, anything to the cat that had betrayed him. But before he could make a sound and turn around to flee, a large hand reached out and scooped him up.
Izuku yowled in pain, the sudden movement sending fresh waves of agony through his battered body. His tail, still bleeding and twisted awkwardly from the dog’s bite, throbbed horribly. He flailed weakly, his tiny claws scraping uselessly against the thick fabric of the man’s jacket.
“Easy,” Aizawa murmured, his voice low and steady. He shifted Izuku in his grip, holding him gently but firmly as he examined the kitten’s injuries. “You’re hurt.”
Izuku’s ears flattened further, his entire body going rigid as he stared up at the man who had been hunting him for months. You don’t know the half of it, he thought bitterly. His tail lashed feebly, his eyes narrowing as he glared up at Aizawa. Put me down! Let me go!
But Aizawa didn’t let him go. Instead, he shifted his grip again, cradling Izuku against his chest as he stood up. The movement made Izuku’s head spin, the warmth of Aizawa’s body seeping into his cold, aching bones. He could feel the steady thrum of the man’s heartbeat, strong and even, and for a moment, a terrible wave of longing swept over him.
No. Izuku gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look away, to focus on anything but the warmth and safety that Aizawa radiated. He didn’t want this. He didn’t need anyone’s help, least of all his.
But his body was betraying him. The exhaustion, the pain, the deep, gnawing hunger—all of it was too much. He was too weak to fight, too tired to resist as Aizawa carried him inside.
The warmth of the house hit him like a wave, a suffocating blanket of heat that made his head spin even more. He blinked blearily, his vision blurring again as he tried to take in his surroundings. Everything was soft bright, and safe. There was a couch nearby, piled high with blankets, and a fireplace crackling softly in the corner, the flames casting a gentle glow across the room.
Izuku’s eyes widened as he took it all in. This place… it was—
“Hey, Shouta, what’ve you got there?” a new voice called out, cheerful and bright. Izuku’s head whipped around, his heart skipping a beat as a second figure stepped into view. A man with blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, green eyes framed by thin reading glasses, a hearing aid, and a wide smile on his face.
He wore a casual sweater and looked utterly different from the intense hero Izuku was used to seeing on the news. His expression softened as he took in the sight of the tiny, bloodied kitten on the doorstep.
“Calm down,” Aizawa murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe here.”
Safe?! Izuku thought wildly, his ears flattening again as he stared up at the two heroes—the two pro heroes—who were now watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern. How am I supposed to be calm when I’m literally in the house of two pro heroes?!
TBC