Archive of Our Own ^beta

Long nights in the silence of the sleeping city have made Shōta very in tune to noises that aren’t your typical city sounds. He’s used to stray cats fighting, hissing and yowling in backend alleys, and the occasional car sputtering to life, disturbing the serene silence of the night. He’s used to hearing the constant humming of AC units and the static flickering of old streetlights as he passes by, just above them.

There are so many night noises he just knows, sounds that he’s become immune to because he hears them so often. They’re just normal; a part of the nocturnal life he falls into. He doesn’t need to be worried about constant noises— no, it’s the sounds that he can’t instantly place that are the ones he needs to keep an ear out for.

Being able to wade through normal without batting an eyelash and being able to spot irregular instantly is what makes you good at what you do when you’re a night patrolling underground Hero. Irregular never means anything good when everything should be calm and familiar.

He’s crouched on the edge of a building on the outskirts of his patrol route when he hears it.

The breeze catches in his hair, and the coils of his capture weapon rustle in the gusts, edges and loose coils fluttering behind him. The chill irritates his already irritated eyes, cold sinking in and stinging at red, inflamed eyes, despite the fact he’d only been on active patrol for maybe a half an hour at this point.

The sound is quiet, but it’s different to what he knows to be regular city white noise.

It stands out compared to the sounds he usually hears, what he doesn’t bother actively listening for anymore. It’s not a sound he’d easily come to ignore; it instantly catches his attention. Instantly puts him on high alert.

Crying.

Shōta straightens his posture as the odd sound registers, peering down through the slits in his goggles. He squints down from afar, unsurprised that he doesn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, despite hearing soft, almost inaudible sobs coming from somewhere below.

It’s definitely crying, that much he knows, but it’s not the type of crying Shōta’s used to hearing.

It doesn't sound like the usual adults he sometimes encounters crying on patrol, or even like his students when they’re overly emotional during class exercises, whether good emotional or bad emotional, or when they’re just stressed and overwhelmed with the bulk of attending a high-end Hero school. It’s not for the faint of heart, Shōta knows that from personal experience.

It’s a distantly familiar sound, but it’s also completely different.

It’s that of someone young crying.

Someone far younger than anyone Shōta tends to deal with.

He doesn’t typically encounter children on patrol, and his students, though immature at times, are all closer to young adulthood than they are the age of soft cries from below.

There’s just something distinctly gut-wrenching about hearing cries like this coming from a child, especially at this time of night in a district like the one Shōta’s currently overseeing. Hearing a child sob like that, breathless and terrified, yet still obviously trying to keep quiet fearfully.

He can’t help how his brain hurtles into desperate explanations; reasons why there’s a small child sobbing alone in alley in the middle of the night.

He can’t come up with anything that doesn’t make his stomach churn with worry.

He straightens completely, standing to his full height as he reaches up to push his goggles up, rubbing absently at wind nipped eyes before squinting down again and scanning the alley once more.

He scrutinizes the alley sharply, finally spotting teeny tiny little shoes peeking out from beside a dumpster. Shōta gives the youngster props for how well they’d managed to nestle away from view; honestly, if he didn’t have an overhead view, he’s not sure he would’ve been able to spot them.

Shōta sucks in a breath, frowning down at those little shoes.

They’re tiny— the child is probably no older than five, at most. The worry in his stomach twists like a dagger into something deeper, more perturbing, but he forces it down in order to focus on the situation, eyes returning to the little shoes.

Almost as if the child senses him or something, the small feet are tugged back, right out of sight.

Shōta’s frown deepens.

The man knots his hands into his capture scarf, arching his arm back and hooking the ends of his weapon into the fire escape on the building across from the one he’s stood on. He tugs once, testing the strength and assessing its durability, before stepping off the edge and rappelling himself to the ground.

He makes sure to announce himself in way of heavy work boots hitting the ground.

He’s long since learned how to land without making a noise, he’s honestly better at stealth than he is announcing himself, but he knows sneaking up on a child would probably do more harm than good. Having a man suddenly appear in front of you without any warning that someone is even close would scare the shit out of anyone.

He’s already scaring the kid if by the way the soft sobs abruptly cut off and instead transition into poorly contained panicked breaths is anything to go by.

“Hello?” He offers first, scanning the alley just to make sure there’s no threats lurking so he can give this his entire attention. He still doesn’t know why there’s a child alone— someone could be after them. He’s coming into this blindly. “Are you alright?”

He steps closer to the dumpster, heart breaking at the little sniffles and stuttery breaths that catch in the child’s throat. There’s something abnormal about the pattern, like the child is trying to stop breathing entirely; maybe hoping to go unnoticed still.

He wonders how long they’ve been crying out here.

He wonders how long they’ve been out here too.

“My name is Eraserhead,” he introduces calmly when the child makes no attempt at replying, biting his bottom lip as he hesitates just beside the dumpster, just out of sight. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, cocking his head as he debates his next words. “I’m a Hero, and I heard you crying. Are you hurt?”

There’s rustling behind the dumpster, the sound of rubber, a shoe most likely, scraping against asphalt. Shōta keeps his distance— he’s well aware he’s not known by the public, and he knows he doesn’t look like the most approachable person. Intimidation is great for night work when facing off against villains, but it’s not ideal for situations like this.

It’s always best to let kids, especially those as young as the child before him, come to him.

He waits another long second before a little hand catches on the edge of the dumpster, and then a small, too small to be alone this late, face peeks out at him. He only really sees half a face, but he spots one wide, watery eye, and a chubby tearstained cheek.

From what he can see of the child’s lips, they’re quivering.

“You... you’re a Hero?” comes a soft, sniffly voice. “R-really?”

A little girl he thinks.

She’s so small, voice tiny and terrified. To her, he probably looks pretty scary, so Shōta makes a conscious effort to lose some of the tension in his shoulders and slump inwards, trying to appear less rough around the edges.

Shōta tries his best to come off as open instead of intimidating as he nods slowly, “yes, I am. You can call me Eraser, okay? You won’t know who I am, because I only work at night, when you’re supposed to be asleep. Now, are you hurt anywhere? What’s your name, kid?”

“Haru,” the child sniffles, voice wavering like she’s about to start crying again. “’m not... n-not hurt.”

He watches as she reaches her second hand up to rub at her face, the eye he can’t see, and then she’s inching out a bit more. He spots just a bit more of her face, grateful for the trust she’s starting to offer, as miniscule as it is right now.

“Haru-chan,” Shōta repeats softly as he crouches down, hoping he’ll be less intimidating when he’s more her height and not looming over her. “That’s a nice name. Do you think you can come out from behind there, Haru-chan? I can help you, but I can’t if I don’t know how to, right? You’re safe, okay?”

The little girl hesitates, and Shōta can’t blame her for that.

Then, slowly, she inches out further until he can see her completely. He watches closely as the little girl scans him uncertainly. He doubts he looks like a Hero to her. She’s probably used to seeing limelight Heroes— All Might and Mirko and Present Mic, all flashy and attention drawing; something Shōta certainly is not.

Shōta offers an attempt at a soft smile when the little girl’s eyes finally lift to his own face, teary eyes blinking owlishly. She palms at her eyes and draws in a shaky breath all while still keeping half her attention on Shōta.

“What are you doing all alone out here, Haru-chan? It’s very late.”

“I-I—” the girl stutters out, wiping furiously at her wet eyes with her fists, “I don’t know... I was with my mommy at the playground and I— I-I saw a puppy so I, I followed him ‘cause I wanted to pet him and then I didn’t know where I was, and, and mommy was gone, and I was scared and I-I— I want my mommyyy!”

Shōta’s heart lurches as the child sobs once again, long and breathless— she's not even really breathing through the sobs. Shōta panics internally, feeling out of his depth. Where was his charismatic husband when he needed him?

“Hey, shh,” Shōta whispers, hoping his tone comes out soothing. Soothing isn’t exactly his forte, “I’ll help you find your mom, don’t cry. It’s alright. I know you’re scared, but everything will be okay, alright? We’ll find your mom. We’ll get you home, okay?”

As he says this, Shōta does some quick mental mapping and concludes that this child is very far from any playgrounds. She must’ve been gone for hours at this point—

Shōta’s thoughts come to a screeching halt.

He remembers staring bleary eyed at a missing child alert on his phone that had woken him up from his after-school nap. That had been sent out hours earlier, way before he was even due for patrol.

A four-year-old girl had disappeared from a local playground right under her mother’s nose. Kimura Haru had been the name he’d read. There’d been a photo of the child that Shōta had glanced at hazily, vaguely familiar now, followed by a description of what she’d been wearing at the time of her disappearance.

A local kindergarten uniform and brown shoes.

Exactly what Haru was wearing now.

Looks like he just found the missing youngster.

The nervous weight in his stomach eases now that he knows that nothing nefarious had been going on involving the little girl— she was just lost and scared. She’d gotten distracted and ended up somewhere she didn’t know where she was. He doesn’t need to ask to know she’d probably wandered around looking for her mother, getting herself more and more lost as the hours ticked by.

She is quite far from where she disappeared.

“Don’t cry, Haru-chan,” Shōta speaks softly, like when he’s talking to the young, skittish alley cats he happens across at night, “your mom’s been looking for you. I’ll help you find your mother, okay? My friends at the police station will be able to help us, I know your mom is very worried about you. She asked all the Heroes I know to keep an eye out for you. I can give my friend a call and they can come pick us up and take us to your mom, okay?”

“She’s looking?” Haru hiccups, fisting at her uniform shirt as tears streak down her face, “r-really? I-I want her! I wan’ my mommy.”

“Of course,” Shōta nods, offering a hand for the little girl to take, “there are a lot of people looking for you, Haru-chan. You’ve been lost for a long time now, you’ve probably been really scared, huh? Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll bring you out of this scary alley, eh? Then I can make a call to my friend; he’s a detective at the police station and he’s probably with your mom right now looking for you.”

“Is he nice, too?” Haru whispers, eyes locked on Shōta’s outstretched hand like she’s debating taking it and trusting him. He doesn’t have much to offer to prove his authenticity to a child— Haru wouldn’t understand a Hero license even if he showed her, and as an underground Hero with no media attention, he’s got nothing else to verify himself with. “Like... like you, Eraser-san?”

“He’s far nicer than I am,” Shōta assures kindly, “I’ll keep you safe until they arrive, okay?”

Haru’s bottom lip wobbles and a new tears surface in her wide eyes, but she nods slowly, stepping closer to Shōta and setting her hand into his and—

It hurts.

He sees a flash of white; pain he decides as he grits his teeth and tries to inhale. It’s white, and hot and it’s enveloping his entire body. Every nerve feels like it’s on fire. He’s never felt anything quite like this.

It feels like he’s being torn to pieces and reassembled.

His heart pounds in his chest, and that’s about all he can recognize past the pain. He lets out a groan, but it sounds... different even to his own ears. Higher pitched— definitely not a sound he’s ever made before.

He blinks his eyes open as the pain slowly ebbs away, body still feeling numb and distant. It feels like he’s lost all coordination; limbs and mind in two separate places. He’s instantly surprised by how much he sees. How long had he been out just now? It shouldn’t be this bright— it feels like just a second ago he was in the pitch black. It doesn’t feel like he’d passed out, but maybe he had?

He takes it in stride nonetheless, focus returning to Haru now that that episode has passed.

Haru is still there, on her knees in front of him, her little hands hovering in front of her like she’s afraid to touch him. She’s sobbing again, and it’s so loud. Far louder than he’s sure a child should be. Far louder than he’d ever even heard a child be.

Shōta opens his mouth to assure her that he’s fine, the pain has passed— “mroww.”

Shōta bristles. That... had that come from him?

Shōta’s eyes widen as he slowly drops his attention down and that— those are paws.

Where the hell are his hands? His feet? He straightens hurriedly, clumsy on feet that aren’t his, whirling around and just barely catching sight of a tail clinging to his backside that follows his body. A strange sensation of his hair standing on ends trails up his back and along the foreign feeling of a tail, and it takes an embarrassingly long second to realize it’s his fur puffing up.

Shit.

He lets out a desperate noise, something that comes out between a yelp and a yowl, springing up almost skittishly. He fumbles through a couple clumsy steps to the side, paw snagging something that sends him tumbling to his chest.

His goggles— he'd just tripped on his own goggles, and beside those is his capture weapon, and his Hero costume. His boots left exactly where his feet had been.

His clothes pool on the ground, and all he can do is stare at them distantly. He’d been wearing those, but they just look so big now. He’s sure he could fit most of his body into one of his boots and the thought is tempting—

“I’m sorry!” Shōta hears, one pointed ear flicking towards the sound. Sharp eyes turn to the child, scanning her with a clarity Shōta has never experienced before. He tunes himself back to the present, pushing down those odd thoughts and focusses on Haru. “’m sorry, ’m sorry!”

Haru is gasping for breath as she cries, desperately trying to pick up his capture weapon. Coils of it just keep falling from her small arms, but she dutifully keeps trying to pick it all up. After a second, he notices his goggles hanging from her wrist, as she moves on her knees towards his boots. “I d-d-di-didn't mean’ta, Erassser-san! ‘m sorry! ‘m sorry!”

Shōta lets out a noise, something he hopes is soothing. It catches in his throat, grating oddly.

Maybe it’s a purr? He isn’t sure.

He finds his footing slowly but surely, unused to the pattern of four legs instead of two, strutting towards Haru before gently ramming his head against her forearm, where she’s still holding clumps of capture weapon, to get her attention.

He eyes his capture weapon distastefully, just knowing he’ll have to detangle when he gets home.

And, well, when he has fingers again.

The girl startles, dropping what she’d managed to pick up.

She stares down at him with wide, wet eyes and draws in a shaky breath. He rams his head again, this time with enough force to send her falling backwards onto the ground. She’d already been unsteadily balanced on her knees, so she goes easily enough.

She watches him wide-eyed, sniffling and sucking in panic stuttered breaths.

He can hear himself purring now— the sound vibrating in his chest and throat. He doesn’t know how he’s even making such a noise, but he doesn’t care.

He cautiously inches closer to the girl, stepping onto her legs with his front paws while also trying to proportion his weight so he’s not heavy on her. It’s almost mortifying to the human mind, but as a cat, it feels right. Maybe he’s more in tune to her distress now? Cats tend to be.

Shaking fingers lift to his head and he pushes right into them, hefting himself up into her lap completely. He paws gently at her face, hyperaware of his paws and, more importantly, his claws that he keeps nestled safely in his toes, tail swishing contently behind him when the girl lets out a watery giggle, petting him between the ears.

It feels nicer than he’d ever admit.

“I don’t know what happened, Eraser-san,” Haru whispers wetly, hugging him close. He’s a big cat, he realizes, or maybe she’s just tiny. “I’m sorry... I-I've never... I d-don’t—”

Shōta lets out another involuntary noise, something that comes close to a chirrup.

He settles easily in her lap, just letting her pet him.

He knows, logically, that animals oftentimes aid in calming, especially with kids, so he’ll gladly stand in as an emotional support animal for her until help finds them. Maybe if she calms down, so will her Quirk. It’s obviously touch based, which is finicky at best. Until her Quirk can be observed by professionals, it’s best to limit contact unless it’s certain there’s no chance of a Quirk accident like the one Shōta finds himself in happening.

He has half a mind to use his Quirk on her now, but he can’t really think straight.

It feels like he’s operating completely off of instinct— he can’t even find Erasure at this point. It’s not gone, he knows, still feels it buried somewhere in his consciousness, it’s just... well, buried behind cat.

It’s like his human consciousness and the cat brain and body are fighting for dominance.

There’s not much he can do as an animal anyways, so the best he can offer right now is to keep her calm, protect her with his life and act as a warning to the next person who tries to touch Haru.

He lets his eyes slip shut, almost involuntarily as the gentle strokes on the top of his head lull him. He lets his eyes close, but his ears arch as he listens intently, aware of their surroundings despite how at ease he probably looks.

He tries to think back to any mention of a Quirk in the alert he’d read, but there hadn’t been any he’d seen. Typically, alerts like the one he’d glanced at would hold all known information about the child, and a Quirk is pretty important to be informed of when it comes to children who lack control.

Plus, it’s entirely possible that Haru had manifested her Quirk just now when her emotions were all over the place and she was scared. Forced manifestations like that happen more often than you’d think they would. Children see things far differently than adults do, and when they don’t have the emotional tools to handle it, the body goes into self-defense mode.

Shōta listens to the child’s heartrate, and feels her chest move with each shaky breath.

She’s not really calming down, which is worrying.

He’d hoped she would start to calm, but it’s not looking likely anymore. This whole night must’ve been traumatic for her— first getting lost for hours and then turning someone into a cat before her eyes, something she’d never done before.

He’s not sure if her Quirk is active still— there’s not much more she can do after already turning you into a cat, but there’s still the worry that she might just keep accidentally turning everyone into cats if her Quirk isn’t under control, or the Quirk itself neutralized.

It hadn’t looked like her Quirk was active at all, or else Shōta would’ve used Erasure on her first.

He knows any other Hero will do exactly what he had: talk her down and then take her hand or pick her up and try to bring her to safety. But if her Quirk is tenacious until deactivated, which she won’t know how to do yet if it just manifested, it’s likely Shōta won’t be the only one on four legs.

Unless he acts as a buffer of sorts.

He’s not sure how long he sits cuddled into the little girl’s lap as small fingers stroke over his head and down his back as he purrs insistently. He has no concept of time and knows his phone lies locked in one of the pockets of his utility belt.

He’d thought, briefly, about trying to get Haru to find his phone, but it seemed like a lot of steps, and she was already distressed. He’ll be glad when the tears stop pouring from the girl’s eyes. She still hasn’t calmed down, and at this rate he’s worried she’s going to pass out.

Plus, if worse comes to worst and they aren’t found at some point tonight, Shōta knows there’s a tracker in his phone that the police have access to, and if he doesn’t respond at the end of his patrol, they’ll assume he’s been hurt, or captured and come investigate the tracker’s location.

He doesn’t have to wait that long though.

He hears someone coming before he sees them. He slivers his eyes open, perking up faintly, sure he makes some sort of alert, yet calm noise. Haru freezes when the figure’s shadow faintly casts over them, clutching him tighter, fearfully.

Shōta tries to make his purring louder, soothing, hopefully, because even in the dark, his cat eyes spot who’s inching closer to them. And he’s not a threat.

It’s another Underground Hero by the name of Deflector, whose Quirk is called Energy Shield. He’s able to encapsulate his body in a protective shield that moves with him, but each hit it takes, either by him, or an outside force, lowers the durability of it. There’s a semi long recharge period for it.

It’s still early enough in the night that Deflector glows faintly with a pale blue coloured force field. The faint glow of it irritates Shōta’s sensitive cat eyes, but he remains still in Haru’s lap, staring uninterestedly at his co-worker.

He’s half curious to see how this all unfolds. Deflector is still new to the Underground scene, and Shōta hasn’t really gotten to see the guy do civilian work yet.

“Hey, hey,” the man coos, stopping just a couple feet away from Haru. Shōta watches the man’s eyes flick down to him before returning to Haru’s red, cried out face. “What are you doing out here all alone, sweetheart?”

At the question, Haru tears up again.

She glances down at Shōta, eyes filling with tears even faster, almost guiltily, before she’s full-on sobbing again. She tries to speak, but it’s mostly just warbles of what almost sound like words.

Shōta mourns the calm he’d managed to lull her into shattering before his eyes, straightening from the lazy sprawl and sitting up, tail sweeping around his body and flicking slightly towards the tip.

Shōta shifts his attention back to Deflector and huffs out a sigh through his nose at the panic in the man’s expression. “Hey, it’s okay!” He attempts awkwardly, “c’mon, little girl, you’re okay! I’ll help you and your kitty friend, alright? What’s your name, huh? I’m Deflector and I’m a Hero! O-or, uh, how about you tell me about your cat, huh?”

Another huff leaves his nose at being called a ‘kitty friend’. Talk about demeaning. God, when Deflector realizes it’s him, Shōta is never going to live this one down.

Deflector glances down at him, almost hesitantly before inching closer to the emotional child. He stares for a long second, eyes narrowing faintly as he cocks his head to the side before recognition lights up in his eyes, “hey, wait a second... are you Haru?”

Shōta’s not surprised Deflector knows who the little girl is.

Everyone would’ve been sent the same alert. Especially Heroes patrolling the areas near where she disappeared, and Underground Heroes who’d be lurking around late into the night.

They are the most logical ones to be keeping an eye out for her.

Haru jolts in surprise though, eyes lifting to Deflector.

She nods shyly, watching him skeptically as she scooches sideways slightly until she’s sat directly behind Shōta. A small part of him is oddly honored that she trusts him enough to hide behind him, even as a cat, so he puffs out his chest and flicks an ear as he watches Deflector sharply, almost daring him to make a move closer.

“Ah, Haru-chan, I’m so glad I found you!” Deflector sighs in relief, smiling genuinely. “Your family has been worried sick all evening— where'd you run off to, huh? How did you end up all the way over here? Are you alright? Not hurt or anything, are ya?”

Now that he knows who he’s looking at, Deflector doesn’t keep his distance any longer. He moves to step closer to the child, wants to help her, just like Shōta had known the next Hero to find her would do. His body tenses, ready to intercept any contact.

Deflector doesn’t get very far though— he’s tripping before he even makes it two steps; barely managing to catch himself from falling forwards. The man pauses after straightening up, glancing down at what he’d caught on before the colour drains from his face as he finally spots the costume.

The Hero glances up quickly, towards Haru who is still crying quietly into her fists, before he’s crouching down beside the boots he’d just tripped over.

He scans the clothes for a long second, face blanching even paler as he does so.

He leans down to pick up an end of his capture weapon, inspecting it, before snagging the strap of his goggles and holding them up to his face, eyes wide.

Shōta’s costume is very unique between the capture weapon and the distinct bright yellow goggles and is well known in the small circle of Underground Heroes. Not to mention Deflector is one of the few Heroes he overlaps with on patrol routes, so they know each other well enough.

Shōta sees the exact moment his fellow Hero realizes whose stuff he’s looking at.

Deflector picks up the collar of his jumpsuit next, holding it up just enough to see it in its entirety. He swallows nervously as he stares at it, thumbing nervously along the worn collar before his hands move down the fabric towards the utility belt.

Shōta tries not to feel naked as he stares at the clothes he should be wearing.

Cats have no modesty, but humans in cat form definitely do.

Finally, the other Hero roots around in the utility belt, finding both his phone and his Hero license.

The proof that this is the costume of exactly who he thinks it is, as if the goggles and capture weapon weren't proof enough. Deflector stares at the license pinched between his fingers, eyes widening even further before he swallows anxiously once again, looking around them like he’ll suddenly be able to spot a threat, or even Shōta himself somewhere.

And he does, when Deflector catches Shōta’s eyes, but the other has no idea it’s him in this cat body.

Shōta sees the questions flickering in the man’s eyes, but Deflector doesn’t speak any of them.

He watches silently as the man gathers his costume, a haunted glaze to his eyes as he stacks everything in a neat pile, pocketing the license and smartphone for safe keeping.

He turns his attention back to Haru when Shōta’s costume is no longer scattered around, eyes flicking back to the pile hesitantly before his full attention is on the child. He cocks his head suspiciously for a second, like he’s thinking Haru might be some sort of trap Eraserhead fell victim to, before his expression softens again as Haru sniffles, little hands fisted in the hem of her uniform.

Deflector draws in a shaky breath as he puts on a bright smile and a well-constructed façade.

“Okay, Haru-chan, whaddya say we get you back to your mommy, huh?” Deflector crouches down, offering a softer smile, “your mom didn’t say anything about a kitty, so why don’t you leave your friend here for now? I’m sure his family is looking for him too. When you’re safe and sound with you mommy—” a quick lance thrown back at the uniform, a light frown, “— I have more Hero work to take care of around here.”

Haru lets go of her shirt to fist her palms over her eyes, shaking her head furiously as she sobs.

She drops her hands from her face and reaches out desperately for Shōta.

He makes a breathy noise when he’s hoisted up into the child’s arms and is distantly glad he can’t feel the embarrassment he knows he probably should be feeling. Being hefted into a child’s arms and squeezed is certainly not how he expected his patrol to go tonight.

“I-I can’t leave him,” the little girl sobs, squeezing Shōta even tighter until he makes another breathless, involuntary noise. It takes a great deal of effort to stop the festering thought of fight and flee. He doesn’t want to hurt Haru, so he shoves down the instinct. “I-I did it! He-he needs help too!”

Deflector watches with wide eyes, swallowing nervously as he glances back towards the pile of seemingly abandoned hero costume hesitantly. “Okay,” Deflector relents placatingly, “you can bring him, okay? But we really need to leave. It’s not safe here.”

What Shōta wouldn’t give to hear what the other Hero is thinking right now.

Deflector moves towards them, leaning down to pick Haru up, but Shōta moves before he even realizes what he’s doing, wriggling out of the child’s grip and launching towards Deflector.

He swipes with all his force at the man’s incoming hand, claws digging into the force field before being repelled back. He ignores the off feeling, gracefully settling back on all fours and circling protectively around Haru, hissing loudly when Deflector stares at him with a spooked look.

He knows he doesn’t really hit Deflector, the force field flickers in acknowledgement of the hit, but the man still recoils from him, taking a step back as he draws the hand Shōta had swiped at to his chest. Haru peers up at him from behind her hands, and Deflector offers an embarrassed laugh, “feisty little friend you have, Haru-chan.”

“E-Eraser-san doesn’t want you to-to t-touch me,” Haru whispers out, petting Shōta’s head as he glares daggers at Deflector in warning. “L-like he d-did. I-I didn’t mean’ta... it w-was an accident! ‘m sorry...”

“Why wouldn’t your kitty want me to— hang on a second... Eraser?” The man freezes, glancing down at Shōta first, before looking back at the Hero costume on the ground, before his eyes flick back to the cat, “...Eraserhead?”

Shōta squints at the man, letting out a confirming little ‘murr’ noise as he bows his head in a nod. His tail swishes beside him as he perches by Haru. He stares at Deflector as Deflector stares at him, each studying the other intently.

Deflector is quiet for a long, long second until, “oh my God.”

Shōta’s chin dips in another agreeing nod, glancing back at Haru, who is staring down at her shoes. Tears roll down her chin and drip down, catching in the brown fabric and soaking into the footwear.

She’s still steadily crying, and Shōta has no idea how the child has so many tears left. She’s surely dehydrated at this point. He can’t even begin to imagine how upsetting this must be for a child; how scared she must truly be. She’s being quite the trooper through all this.

“Eraser you... you’re—” Deflector swallows, eyes flicking between the cat he’s seeing and the Hero costume beside him. Uncertainty clouds his expression before he clears his throat, “I... don’t know what to say here— what to do... I... I should call Tsukauchi...”

Shōta lets out another noise, staring judgmentally at the other Hero.

He hopes his bland stare conveys the ‘yeah, good idea’ retort he wishes he could huff out sarcastically. Backup is definitely a must when you find a lost kid and a fellow Hero under the effects of a Quirk.

Deflector pulls a pinched face, turning away from Shōta as he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘even as a cat he’s still scowling at me.’ Shōta doesn’t pay him any mind though, just purrs louder and stands to circle around Haru again, ramming his head against her elbow before settling beside her.

It’s not more than a second later that Deflector has his phone to his ear and is greeting Tsukauchi awkwardly while keeping an eye on Shōta like he’s a flight risk or something.

Tsukauchi arriving is a more or less a flurry of cars, and people, and things happening all at once.

It’s very overwhelming when you’re so small and so very not human.

He’s never felt like this when backup arrives.

The headlights of the cars and the flashing lights are too bright, and the voices all swirl together unpleasantly, hard to pick apart and isolate when everyone is talking at once in their anticipation and panic. Heavy footfalls rattle the ground, and it’s just overall upsetting to Shōta for reasons he couldn’t possibly explain. The feeling of so many eyes watching him intently has his skin prickling unpleasantly.

It’s getting easier and easier to figure out why cats are so skittish around people.

He keeps his eyes closed, nestled against Haru’s side as his ears perk up and flick in the direction of familiar voices— yet he doesn’t open his eyes or avidly tune into the conversation going on around them. He figures if they need him, they’ll address him. He’d heard Deflector tell Tsukauchi that he’d been affected by a Quirk, so they’re bound to know he’s the cat.

He doesn’t move from his spot until the sound of shoes inching closer catch his ears and then he’s slivering narrowed red eyes at Tsukauchi, who is now crouched just before them.

“Eraser?” he asks uncertainly, a frown tugging at his lips like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Shōta sighs out through his nose at being disturbed, pushing himself up and arching his chest downwards as he stretches out his back before he sits gracefully, bowing his head in a nod once again.

Tsukauchi sucks in a startled breath, looking torn between surprise and knowing, nodding to himself. He pushes himself up, shooting on last lingering look of uncertainty down at Shōta before he’s turning back to the collection of officers and retreating; Shōta doesn’t bother listening as the detective speaks loudly to his unit.

Instead, the Pro surveys over the people gathered, glancing back at Haru first, who has her face buried in her knees, little sobs shaking her frame.

She must be as overwhelmed as he feels. Especially with so many people around, but no one really making the effort to come much closer than Tsukauchi had just as a precaution.

Deflector is there still too— he’d been sat on the ground with them, sitting cross-legged and keeping a close eye on both Shōta and Haru up until recently, but he’s now over with the officers and Tsukauchi, handing off Shōta’s Hero costume, ID and his phone.

There are a couple officers milling around, faces Shōta has seen at the station, but never really interacted with, or gotten to know.

For the most part people keep their distance from Shōta and Haru.

Only one unfortunate officer attempts to touch Haru, and Shōta lurches from his position on autopilot when he senses someone drawing near, swinging his arm haphazardly towards the threat and feeling his claws dig into the young woman’s hand as it heads towards Haru.

He sucks in a rattling breath, the sharp scent of blood filling his senses.

He knows he should feel bad, but instead he just hisses, unable to stop himself.

His thoughts balance unsteadily between ‘protect Haru’ and ‘prevent contact’ and his actions just make sense to him. His throat rumbles with an unfamiliar sort of growl that has the woman inching backwards, clutching a bleeding hand to her chest.

“What part of approach with caution did you not understand?” Tsukauchi snaps when he hears the commotion of an angry cat, stalking closer. The woman stutters out something in defense that Shōta doesn’t bother listening to, keeping narrowed red eyes locked on her in warning. “Her Quirk could still be active— we have no idea. Do not touch her. You were briefed on this.”

The woman scurries away shamefully as Tsukauchi turns towards Shōta with an unimpressed look, “and you, was that really necessary, Eraser?”

Shōta glares back at the detective, simply flicking his tail in annoyance.

“You’re so standoffish,” Tsukauchi snorts out, “you look all innocent and cute like that, but you’re still the same old Eraser in there, huh?”

Shōta’s tail flicks faster, irritation ticking upwards.

Tsukauchi just snickers to himself.

The man crouches down once again, close, but not close enough for Shōta to lunge at him. The humor in his expression is quickly replaced with seriousness, “we’ve got Kimura-san on route; Tamakawa is on the way with her now. Do you think the Quirk is still active? Any chance of another accident?”

Shōta hesitates before nodding once, glancing back at the child in question.

“I’m going to take a guess that it’s touch-based activation just by how perceptive you’re being when it comes to anyone trying to touch her?” Another nod. “Alright, think you could erase it if needed? I’m hopeful that Kimura-san may be able to calm her down enough that I can coach her through deactivation, but I may need you to eraser it if that doesn’t work. I’ve got Quirk suppression bracelets in the car for her until she can see a Quirk specialist, but I need to be able to touch her to get them on and activated.”

Shōta flicks an ear in thought, quirking his head in a way he hopes translate to a shrug his cat body isn’t proportioned to offer. He knows Erasure is there, he just doesn't know how, or even if, it’ll work as a cat. He knows how to use his Quirk as a human, but as a cat? He’s basically in the same boat as Haru at this point.

“Okay,” Tsukauchi seems to take it for what it is. There’s a distant, tinny voice, probably coming from the comms informing that Tamakawa is here with Kimura-san. “Think on that cause you’re my plan B.”

It does end up falling back onto plan B.

Kimura-san arrives shortly thereafter, and seeing her mom but not being able to go to her as Shōta herds her back gently as a precaution just throws the girl even deeper into the hysterics.

Even her mother’s voice from afar doesn’t help calm her in the slightest.

A quick glance shows the woman tearing up, also being held back by an officer trying to keep her calm. No parent likes seeing their child in distress like this, but it’s just not logical to risk another Quirk accident when it could be prevented.

This is probably the worst part of Heroics; civilian safety even when it comes down to stuff like this.

They can’t risk her being turned into a cat as well.

Using Erasure comes as second nature when he’s desperate.

He doesn’t even intentionally activate the Quirk, but he feels that odd sensation of fur standing on ends, and his vision gets the faintest bit blurry as he turns to look at a still sobbing Haru.

He knows he’s using Erasure when that familiar sting is back in his eyes. He flicks his tail hard, the appendage nearly batting either side of him as it moves, and he hopes Tsukauchi gets the message to act now.

Tsukauchi works fast when he seems to notice the Quick activation as well. He must’ve been watching Shōta because the detective moves almost instantly when Erasure does activate.

Kimura-san is released on his orders, and the woman is rushing towards Shōta and the girl, sweeping her child into her arms and clutching her tightly as she mutters out soft, cooing words.

Haru relaxes almost instantly, snuggling into her mother's arms as she sobs.

Tsukauchi just manages to get the bracelets on Haru’s wrists when Erasure cuts out.

It’s the weirdest thing considering how long cats can keep their eyes open for without blinking, but the Quirk quickly overwhelms his feline eyes. Shōta squeezes his eyes shut, pawing at the strange ache— it's like the first time he ever remembers using Erasure back when he was a child. The lingering pain.

Everyone waits on bated breath as Erasure cuts out and they leave fate up to the suppression bracelets, but Kimura-san doesn’t turn into a cat like Shōta had. She’s grasping Haru tightly and pressing desperate kisses to the little girl’s cheeks and forehead, more than enough skin contact for Haru’s Quirk, yet nothing happens. Success.

Everything moves fast after that; an ambulance arrives to take Kimura-san and a now passed out Haru to the hospital. The child’s cheeks flush with obvious fever and Shōta just knows Haru is going to have a serious case of Quirk Exhaustion after tonight.

Deflector finalizes his statement before heading out to continue his patrol, even pausing to squat down next to Shōta and promise he’ll swing around his route as well since Shōta obviously can’t do so himself. There’s a cheeky smile on the other Hero’s lips that already has Shōta feeling exhausted.

Yeah, Deflector is never gonna let him live this one down.

Tsukauchi doesn’t stray far from Shōta through it all, even if he does step away to talk to his officers and direct his team back to the station. Shōta just lays in the middle of the organized chaos, limbs folded up under him like a loaf of bread. He’d settled into the pose naturally, but it truly is comfortable having his feet all toasty warm beneath his fur.

He only opens his eyes when he feels a presence settle beside him. He catches sight of Tsukauchi’s shoes and lets his narrowed gaze slowly crawl up the detective until it settles on Tsukauchi’s teasing smile.

He crouches down once again, ignoring the sharp warning glare Shōta shoots at him.

“You were such a good boy. Good kitty,” Tsukauchi goads teasingly, patting the top of Shōta’s head in a playful, condescending manner. Shōta absolutely loathes it and reacts instinctively.

Shōta whips around to face him, moving faster than he even realizes, springing up without a thought and tackling around Tsukauchi’s hand where it had just been touching his head a second ago. He digs his claws into the meat of his fingers, glaring at the wince of pained surprise in the man’s expression.

He makes sure to catch Tsukauchi’s wide eyes as he deliberately sinks his teeth into Tsukauchi’s thumb.

“Ow!” Tsukauchi yelps, shaking him off furiously. “Jeez, alright, I get it, Eraser.”

Shōta falls back to the ground gracefully, the glare he’s shooting at the detective never wavering.

The man pouts at the cat, glancing down to scan the damage on his hand, “okay, fine, I deserved that one. I apologize, now please keep your claws to yourself from now on, alright?”

Shōta shoots him one last glare, nose wrinkling up as he huffs out a breath of annoyance. He turns away, strutting towards Tsukauchi’s cruiser without another glance back, expecting the man to trail along after him.

The dejected detective follows, glaring halfheartedly at the cat who waits like royalty for the car door to be opened for him, before he settles in the passenger’s seat.

“Hey, Mic, do you mind coming down to the station? We’ve got... a bit of a situation here.”

Hizashi had been enjoying his night.

He’d been enjoying a steaming mug of green tea after a long day of patrolling, wrapped in his favorite throw blanket. His throat was sore from Quirk use, so the tea was curled in his hands; the warmth and honey soothing the ache.

This was one of his favorite ways to spend the evening.

He was content to just settle into the couch and watch movies in his pajamas until Shōta returned home and he could go to bed with his husband.

It was worth being a little tired the following morning after staying up so late if it meant chatting with his favorite listener and being able to cuddle into his husband in bed.

His phone ringing had startled the serenity of the apartment, Hizashi jumping out of his skin at the sound, and then seeing Tsukauchi’s name on caller ID instead of Shōta’s had made something unpleasant settle in his stomach, like a rock. Tsukauchi never called.

The call had been brief— Tsukauchi hardly even greeting him before requesting his presence at the station.

He’d known instantly that it had something to do with Shōta; why else would Tsukauchi be calling him? The rock in his stomach had turned acidic at the thought, his stomach churning with worry and fear.

He’d hardly been able to find his voice through the pit of worry that sunk in his heart, hearing his own voice, distant and echoey, assure the detective that he was on his way. It was like he was listening to someone else entirely speak in his place, mind so clouded with fear he couldn’t think straight.

Hizashi hadn’t even ended the call before he was hurriedly swapping his pajamas for the first articles of clothing he could get his hands on— one of Shōta’s sweatshirts, a pair of jeans that had shrunk faintly in the wash and clung slightly too tight (he couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment) and two different socks, one his own, and the other he thinks to be Shōta’s.

Thinking back, he probably should’ve questioned what was wrong with Shōta, what had happened. Something had to have happened if Shōta hadn’t spoken to him, and Tsukauchi was calling him in. He should’ve asked what he should have been expecting to find at the station, but he hadn’t.

He could hardly hear what was being said past ‘we’ve got a bit of a situation here.’

The only saving grace of receiving a message like that was the fact that Shōta probably wasn’t dying right now. He wasn’t in the hospital, or Tsukauchi would’ve been sending him there instead, and Hizashi was Shōta’s medical proxy after all, the hospital would’ve called him if Shōta was on his deathbed, right?

And Tsukauchi hadn’t sounded overly worried— maybe more exasperated than worried. If Shōta was hurt, he’d sound worried, regretful and sympathetic, right?

Hizashi blows out an unsteady breath as he adjusts his glasses and cards his fingers through his long blonde hair in a halfhearted attempt to calm himself down. He hadn’t even thought about putting his hair up in his panic, but he had showered before changing into his pajamas that evening, so his hair was gel free and clean.

He sucks in another calming breath, mentally preparing himself to enter the station like a calm, rational human being despite the fact his heart pounds nervously in his chest and he can’t seem to steady his breathing.

He knows he won’t be able to calm down entirely until he sees Shōta with his own eyes— scowling and annoyed, and perfectly fine.

Hizashi puts on a professional mask of ‘fine’ as he steps out of the car and marches into the station. The mask cracks faintly when he scans the openness of the station bullpen and doesn’t spot Shōta anywhere, his heart picking up in his chest as he instead glances around for Tsukauchi.

He finds the man stood in the small breakroom, nursing a cup of coffee and what looks to be the beginnings of a headache as he massages at his temples with his other hand.

Hizashi doesn’t waste a second before beelining towards his friend.

“Tsukauchi,” he says in way of greeting.

“Mic,” the detective responds without even looking up. The man squeezes his eyes shut, rubs harder at his temples, before he finally lets his hand set his mug on the counter and he turns his attention towards Hizashi. He looks tired. “You got here fast.”

“Yeah, well, you forgot to tell me the severity of the situation,” Hizashi returns sharply, only half aware of the annoyance seeping into his tone, “not exactly the most pleasant message to receive while my husband is out on patrol and I’m off duty. A bit of explanation would've been nice, so I wasn’t worrying myself sick, Tsukauchi.”

“Right,” the detective sighs deeply, now rubbing at his eyes, “right, sorry, Mic, I just... well, it’s better if you see this one for yourself. It’s a bit hard to... believe. He’s fine though. I think. Don’t worry.”

“You think.” Hizashi repeats flatly, not feeling at all mollified by the answer. “A bit hard to not worry.”

The man sighs again, one shoulder lifting in a shrug as he snags his coffee off the counter once again and takes a sip.

Hizashi blinks in concern when he finally takes notice of his friend’s hand, eyeing the scratches and bite marks around Tsukauchi’s fingers and thumb that are sluggishly bleeding, “hey, what happened to you? You’re bleeding a bit. You okay?”

For a second, Tsukauchi looks confused, before he follows Hizashi’s gaze down to his own fingers. He puckers his lips distastefully, “yeah,” the man huffs out, swapping his coffee to the other hand and wiping the blood onto his slacks, “it’s nothing. Just a run in with a wrathful wild animal earlier.”

Hizashi cocks an eyebrow, debating whether or not he wants to inquire about that, but before he can even ask, the detective is gesturing for Hizashi to follow and heading towards the offices. Hizashi falls into step after the detective, anxiety buzzing in his chest.

Tsukauchi pauses outside a door, glancing back at Hizashi before pushing the door open and allowing the blonde to pass through the threshold without following him in. Hizashi scrunches his nose up, eyeing the detective before doing as gestured.

He scans the room once, not spotting his husband.

He goes to turn towards Tsukauchi, mouth opening to demand to see his husband when a chair moves out of the corner of his mouth. He startles, whipping around to face what he’d assumed to be an empty room, only for his eyes to fall on a pair of narrowed red eyes and two fluffy, pointed ears just barely peeking up over the table.

Hizashi’s mouth falls open in surprise, “Tsukauchi—”

“The wrathful animal himself,” Tsukauchi gestures a scratched-up hand to the cat, “I present Catzawa the menace, as he's been so accurately dubbed by some of the officers. Don’t be fooled by the cute face and fluff, Eraser is still in there.”

“That’s a cat.” Hizashi says doubtfully.

The cat makes an offended sort of meow that has Hizashi startling all over again. A small part of him thinks this is a hoax, and the bigger, more logical part of him thinks that cat had just responded.

“Animal transformation Quirk,” the detective rubs at his eyes again, glancing hesitantly at the glaring cat. “Forced manifestation. Aizawa happened upon that missing little girl and she— well,” the detective gestures to the cat, to Shōta, as if it's an explanation, “she did that, by accident. The mother has a touch activated telepathy Quirk, and the father has a Quirk which allows him to transform himself into a cat at will. Our best guess is this’ll last anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours.”

“Is he...” Hizashi hesitates, “um, in there?”

“He’s just as much an asshole as a cat as he is a human, if that’s what you mean.”

A distant hiss has Hizashi glancing back towards the cat, spotting annoyance slit eyes locked on Tsukauchi and ears folded back against the cat’s head. The cat makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a meow, eyes narrowing sharply.

Tsukauchi simply watches the cat in exasperation, sighing once again as he turns back to Hizashi, “yeah, he’s in there, Mic. Cat body, but that’s all Aizawa. He understands speech and is capable of recognition. Used Erasure too. We don’t know anything for sure, but we’ve been able to hold conversation with him.”

“Good,” Hizashi mumbles, feeling out of his depth as he watches the cat, his husband, out of the corner of his eye, “that’s good. So, uh, what happens now? He’s a cat. What... what now?”

“Ideally?” the detective cocks his head to the side, “you take that menace home with you. We’re running out of bandages. Do with him as you please, just take him away from my station. I don’t want to see him again until he’s got all ten fingers back, got it?”

Hizashi nods dumbly, glancing between his husband and the detective.

Shōta glares deeply at the detective, but his little head does bow in a nod.

Hizashi blinks in surprise at the obvious response from the cat, looking back to Tsukauchi who doesn’t look surprised that the cat is answering questions.

Hizashi supposed Tsukauchi has had more time to come to terms with Shōta being a cat.

“Good,” the man nods back, “now, get out of here. Good work today, Eraser. I’m glad it was you who found Haru tonight, I doubt anyone else would’ve handled this all as well as you. That said, I’ll still need a statement from you when you can actually speak again, so don’t forget.”

The cat— Hizashi swears — rolls his eyes, head bowing in a second, almost exasperated, nod.

“Eraser’s costume and gear is on the desk over there,” Tsukauchi offers a light half smile towards the cat, gesturing vaguely to the other side of the room, “now, I’ve got some paperwork to take care of, so you two have a good night. Text me when you have thumbs again, Aizawa.”

This time, the cat ducks under the table and Tsukauchi takes it as the obvious dismissal it was, snorting a laugh as he gives Hizashi a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, swiftly leaving the office without another word.

Hizashi hesitates now that he’s alone with the feline. He believes Tsukauchi, honest, just... that’s a cat.

The cat pops its head back up, scanning for Tsukauchi before it leaps up from the chair onto the table and struts towards Hizashi. It’s so very cat, that Hizashi really questions if this actually is Shōta.

Shōta sits gracefully at the edge of the table, fluffy tail curling around his feet as he makes an adorable little ‘purrp' sound curiously. The cat scans him in a way that’s so very Shōta, and it makes him question his earlier doubt of whether or not this cat was his husband.

Now that Shōta is entirely visible, Hizashi takes a second to study the cat.

He’s completely black— the same dark shade of Shōta’s regular hair. He’s fluffy; fur looking silky soft in a way Hizashi can never seem to get Shōta’s regular hair, even when Hizashi has free rein to pamper Shōta and his hair. He has gorgeous red eyes, though Hizashi distantly misses his husband’s charcoal grey eyes. He’s long haired, which Hizashi finds funny since Shōta’s hair is long as well.

He’s beautiful, is all Hizashi thinks.

“You are the absolute prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hizashi hears himself coo, finally inching closer to the cat. The cat cocks it’s head to the side, almost as if judging him and Hizashi laughs to himself, “I mean, of course, you’re absolutely gorgeous as a human too, my love, but you’re just adorable as a floofy lil’ baby, ya’dig? I love cats.”

The cat shoots him a bland look.

Hizashi smiles sheepishly, crouching by the table so he’s almost face to face with the feline.

He holds his hand out towards the cat, feeling silly because this is his husband still, but it’s also his husband as a cat and he’d seen what Shōta managed to do to Tsukauchi’s hand.

Shōta had long since taught him the proper way to introduce yourself to a cat.

Shōta’s eyes track his movements before they flick towards Hizashi’s face, where the cat seems to soften. He tentatively sniffs at Hizashi’s fingers, just once, like he’s doing it to ease Hizashi’s anxieties instead of for himself, before ramming in his nose against his fingertips and pressing his head and ears into Hizashi’s palm.

“Gah, you’re so cute, Shō!” Hizashi coos, taking that as permission to stroke the cat’s head. Shōta stands abruptly, ramming more aggressively against his hand in a silent demand for more affection. Hizashi rises from his crouch, giving the cat just as he's demanding. “So soft too!”

It’s a little unlike Shōta, demanding like this, but it is very cat-like so Hizashi just goes with it. He smiles softly as he pets the surprisingly soft fur.

Shōta is soaking in the affection, brushing against Hizashi and arching under his hand demandingly.

“Pushy, pushy,” Hizashi teases, scratching under Shōta’s chin lightly.

The cat’s eyes are shut, soft little purrs filling the room at Hizashi’s ministrations.

Hizashi pets the soft fur until Shōta suddenly dodges around Hizashi’s hand, standing on his hind legs as he supports himself against Hizashi’s chest with his front legs. He rams his head under Hizashi’s chin, purring louder.

“Awh, I missed you too, babe,” Hizashi strokes back fuzzy ears, ignoring the tickle of pointed ears ghosting across his skin. “Whaddya say we head back to the apartment? I’m not sure how much of this you’ll remember but you’ll never live this down if Tsukauchi or anyone else sees you being this affectionate, Quirk influence or not.”

The purring stops abruptly and narrowed eyes settle on him.

“What, did you forget where you were?” Hizashi snorts out as Shōta leans away from his hand, pushing off of Hizashi chest and settling back on the table like Hizashi’s words had deeply offended him, “don’t give me that look, Shōta! You’ll thank me later~!”

Shōta dramatically rolls his eyes, pointedly looking away from Hizashi. He glances towards the door, and Hizashi gets the message, “right. One sec, sweetheart, I’ve just gotta load up your costume and all that jazz. Then we’ll be outta here, ya’dig?”

The only response he gets is a swish of the cat’s tail.

Hizashi sets to work getting Shōta’s belongings in order, when he turns back, his husband is watching him from afar, beautiful ruby eyes tracking every movement with ease.

It looks like Shōta has taken naturally to being a cat.

“Alright, so?” Hizashi prompts, hefting the bag of costume and gear up and snagging the backs of both Shōta’s boots to carry. They wouldn’t fit in the evidence bag Tsukauchi had so kindly left to load everything into, but it wasn’t the end of the world. At least he wouldn’t be tripping on stray ends of capture scarf this way. “You good to follow?”

Shōta shoots him an unimpressed glare.

“Seriously?” the man whines, pausing by the table Shōta is still perched on, “you want me to carry you too? Not bad enough I have to tote around your clothes and heavy boots, but I have to heft you around too? You’ve got four perfectly fine, working legs, Shōta.”

The cat’s eyes narrow, a clear yes.

“Tsukauchi’s right,” Hizashi sighs, shifting his hold on everything so he’s able to hold Shōta as well. He’ll never not be a sucker for those intense eyes. “You really are a menace. So, let me get this straight, you’ll hardly even let me hold your hand when you’re human, but you want me to carry you around as a cat, huh?”

Shōta lets out a soft little noise, almost agreeing.

“Of course, glad we’re on the same page,” Hizashi snorts, finally stepping towards the table. “Alright, alright, hop on up. I’ll drop you if I feel any claws, ya’dig? You’re lucky you’re so light or I’d be making you walk. You owe me, like, a date or something for this when you’re back to normal.”

Shōta makes a chittering sort of sound as he launches right into Hizashi free arm with precision. He rubs an ear against Hizashi’s shoulder, and Hizashi can’t help but think his husband is agreeing with the comment.

“Hey, don’t act all cute on me now,” Hizashi warns as he heads towards the building doors. He doesn’t spot Tsukauchi, or anyone else he knows, so he beelines out for both his own, and Shōta’s sake. “I’m still mad at you, just so you know. You scared the absolute shit outta me tonight, Shō. I know it wasn’t your fault, but still. I never wanna get a call like that again, capisce?”

The cat peeks up at him with soft eyes, and then a cold nose nuzzles against his wrist.

Hizashi sighs guiltily, looking away from the cat as he walks, “wait, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Can’t be helped. I... was just scared, you know?”

A soft meow in response, followed by light purrs.

“Anything can happen to either of us, and I know that, but getting a call like that? I swear my heart stopped,” Hizashi draws in a shaky breath, glancing down.

Red eyes stare back up at him, concern shining brightly.

Hizashi lets out a soft laugh, “don’t be worried about me, babe, you’re the one stuck as a cat. At least you weren’t hurt, right? You were just lucky that it wasn’t a dangerous Quirk that hit you— or...” Hizashi bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing even more, “or maybe we’ve just got those nine lives of yours to thank, eh?”

The softness in Shōta’s red eyes swiftly swaps to disappointment, and Hizashi’s never even seen a cat scowl like that. The cat lets out a noise that sounds so similar to his husband groaning that he has not a single doubt left about this cat’s identity.

He is definitely holding Aizawa Shōta.

Hizashi lets out a laugh, pausing by their car. “Alright, onto the hood with you so I can open the doors and load all this in. And just so you know, the only thing I’m willing to carry up to the apartment tonight is you. All this stuff is your problem when you’re back to normal.”

Shōta nods, letting himself be set on the hood of the car as Hizashi carries on towards the back of the car, unlocking it with his now free hand and loading all Shōta’s stuff into the car.

The drive home is uneventful— Shōta sprawls out along the passenger seat, eyes slipping shut and head settled down. He looks calm, and peaceful, like he’s finally able to relax a little without worry; comfortable in Hizashi’s company.

Hizashi’s heart warms at the thought.

The blonde drives slowly and carefully since he knows a seatbelt would do absolutely nothing for Shōta’s tiny frame right now.

True to his word, he carries his husband up to the apartment, enjoying how Shōta curls into him completely. He’s so soft, and small, and Hizashi really just wants to squeeze him, but he knows Shōta would not appreciate it.

He manages to unlock the apartment door with one hand, pushing it open and setting the cat down on the floor as he yawns tiredly, rubbing idly at his eyes. He kicks off his shoes and follows the strutting feline into the living room.

“Hungry or anything? We’ve probably got some tuna or something?” Hizashi questions as he plops back down onto the couch, scratching at his hairline tiredly as he sinks into the comfort. The living room is exactly how he’d left it; abandoned tea sitting now cold on the table, and the blankets a rumpled mess where he’d tossed them hurriedly off himself. The film he’d been watching now over, and some other American show plays instead.

Hizashi locates the remote and turns the television off.

Shōta shakes his head, nose turning up slightly in offense as he hops first up onto the coffee table, and then launches right into Hizashi’s lap, crawling up him before folding up into a loaf shape along Hizashi’s torso.

Hizashi sighs in content, lifting a hand to stroke along Shōta’s head. The cat leans into it, soft little purrs filling the silence of their home. "Long night, huh? I was waiting for you to come home to cuddle, so purrhaps we should just head to bed, yeah? I’m beat.”

Red eyes sliver in annoyance, and Hizashi is sure his husband breathes out a defeated sigh through his nose.

The blonde just smiles wider, “what, don’t like my jokes? Well, pawdon me for trying to lighten the mood, Babe. I use humor to cope with the fact I married a man with such a cattitude.”

Shōta huffs out unamused, face falling forwards until all those adorable little kitty features are buried in the fabric of Hizashi’s sweatshirt. Hizashi feels a tiny nose nuzzling against his sternum, and honestly, he doesn’t know how Shōta’s even breathing with his face smothered in the fabric like that.

One poised ear flicks as Hizashi huffs out a breath of laughter but the cat doesn’t lift his head.

Hizashi strokes along Shōta’s curved back, smiling to himself.

“Nawh, don’t be like that, kitten!” Hizashi snickers, “I think I’m claw-fully funny!”

Shōta snakes a paw up to Hizashi’s face as he lifts his head, cat features curled in a deadpan expression, and then five little claws prick at his cheek, not enough pressure to actually break skin.

Hizashi laughs nervously, lifting a hand to grab at Shōta’s tiny paw, stroking his thumb over the soft fur, “hah, I hear ya’ loud and clear, sweetheart.”

Satisfied with that, Shōta pulls back, tucking his paws back under his own floof.

Hizashi lets his eyes close, savoring the serenity of the apartment once more. The cat on his chest rattles with purrs and Shōta’s little paw faintly tightens and relaxes like he’s kneading dough.

When he forces his eyes open again, he glances back at the clock, “alright,” he ushers Shōta down into his lap gently as he sits up. “If I lay any longer, I’m going to fall asleep on the couch again, and that is so not good for my back.”

Shōta lets out an agreeing chirp, pushing up and stretching out his back. He jumps onto the table again, turning to settle on the edge once again, red eyes watching Hizashi expectantly.

“What?” Hizashi stretches his arms out over his head, “eager to get me into bed? You just want me asleep so I can’t make any more puns, don’t you?”

Shōta’s eyes sliver into slits, the yes being heard loud and clear.

Hizashi laughs again, lifting his hand to pat Shōta’s head, “alright. With any luck you’ll be back to normal in the morning. Good as mew~”

Shōta’s features harden, and that exasperated deadpan returns to his face.

His whiskers twitch and his tail swishes faintly behind him, annoyance obvious even in his cat form. Shōta never appreciates his puns and jokes even as a human, so Hizashi doesn’t take it to heart.

“C’mon!” Hizashi whines, pouting, “that one was funny! You know I’m just kitten around, right?”

One single claw pricks into his knee through the jeans.

Hizashi just laughs through the pinch of pain, “alright, alright, I getcha. I’m done. Let’s head to bed.”

Shōta’s tail flicks again, red eyes watching Hizashi like he doesn’t quite believe he’s really done with the jokes and puns. Hizashi raises his hands in surrender, before reaching forwards to scoop the cat into his arms, cradling Shōta like a loaf of bread in his arms as he pushes off the couch and heads towards their bedroom.

His pajamas are conveniently placed on the bed where he’d haphazardly tossed them in his panic to get to Shōta, so he quickly deposits the cat on the bed and changes out of the clothes. Those jeans suddenly feeling way to tight now that he's calmed enough to really notice.

He rubs his eyes under his glasses and yawns again.

Hizashi is unsurprised to find bright cat eyes watching him, even in the darkness of their room. At being caught staring, Shōta simply plops onto his side and rolls onto his back cutely.

“You think that by being cute I’ll just forget you were watching me change, you perv?”

Shōta bats a paw into the air, like he’s pawing at an invisible string or something, wiggling around on his back and flopping from side to side. When he pauses, he looks up at Hizashi with the most innocent eyes that Hizashi swears he almost melts.

Shōta has spent way too much time with cats. He seems to know all their tricks.

Hizashi bites back a laugh moving towards the bed, “well, you’re right.”

He gets under the covers, folding his glasses up and setting them on his bedside table.

Shōta scrambles back onto his feet and bounds towards Hizashi, rubbing under his chin as he walks across his lap before sitting on his own side of the bed.

Hizashi laughs to himself as he sinks into the pillows, turning onto his side and facing Shōta’s side of the bed. He pats the bed right beside his chest in invitation, and Shōta wastes no time at all to burrow his way under the blankets.

Shōta molds himself against Hizashi’s body as a teeny-tiny little spoon, tail swishing lightly in contentment. He rams up against Hizashi’s hand when he’s finally settled and starts to pet the cat out of instinct of having a fluffy little creature cuddled into him.

Hizashi smiles to himself, stroking along the soft fur of the little body curled along his own body, “hey Shōta?”

A prompting little purr noise rumbles from the cat’s chest and then faintly glowing red eyes peer up at him in the darkness.

“I love you meow and furever.”

Shōta lets out a breathy noise of disbelief, as a humored little huff blows out from the cat’s nose.

Finally, a pun Shōta didn’t seem to hate.

Shōta’s eyes drift shut in dismissal, and his little head settles between his front paws, purrs filling the room once again. Hizashi smiles to himself, feeling accomplished.

He relaxes back into the pillows, sighing in his own contentment.

Hizashi pets along his body as his own eyes fall shut.

It’s a groan of pain that wakes Hizashi from his sleep, eyes slivering open only to spot Shōta, back in his regular body, wincing as he rubs at his arms. Hizashi shifts, pushing himself up onto an elbow as he scans his husband. Completely human.

“Sorry,” Shōta huffs when he notices Hizashi’s awake, “I thought your hearing aids were out, I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s early, let's go back to sleep.”

The dark-haired man lays back down, pulling Hizashi down against him.

“You’re back,” Hizashi hums sleepily, a crooked smile curling onto his lips as he nuzzles against Shōta’s very human chest, letting his eyes fall shut again, “good meow-ning, my love. Paw-sitively glad to see you back to normal. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Shōta snorts out a breathy laugh, “why do I feel like you spent way to long trying to come up with those puns? Anyways, go back to sleep, Hizashi. One more cat pun and I swear I’ll smother you with a pillow. I have the arms and weight to do that now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi snickers, peeking up at Shōta with tired eyes. “Good to have you back to normal, babe. Even though you were the sweetest little thing— so cute! I’ll miss kitty Shōta a little, I think.”

“Am I not cute?”

“Handsome,” Hizashi decides sleepily, quirking his lips up cheekily, “it’s pretty hard to call you cute when you’re so very naked.”