"Your injuries look good, Eraser Head," Recovery Girl commented as she extracted her lips from his grimacing face. I hid a smile behind one furtive hand, though not quick enough- a tired gaze glared in my direction, mouth set at a plateau. The elderly medic gave a benign scoff before tapping the bedframe with her cane. "You'll have a few scars, but if she doesn't mind, I don't see why you should."
This woman.
Shota Aizawa had been awaiting my arrival, dressed and looking only mildly agitated at being drawn from his home, standing outside and leaning against a brick wall like some carbon-copy bad boy out of a teenage movie. I dispelled the illusion before my brain spun off into the daydream, fussing over his lack of a jacket, earning a grunt as my only greeting.
The drive had been of comfortable silence and soft-tuned music. With great trepidation I'd allowed him to peruse my phone's music library.
When he chose one of my favorite albums, no amount of wariness on his part could stop my toothy, ridiculous grin.
Recovery Girl was practically luminescent when we'd arrived together, beaming with too many chuckles and knee-pats, pushing my legs apart with her cane to observe the wound on my leg without so much as a warning. Shota had watched, curious, before the medic shot him a wolfish smirk. He made the logical decision to flee, only to be ensnared by an uncannily-powerful grip and prodded onto a bed, a helpless victim to an excruciating five-minute lecture about the dangers of sexual intercourse before his body was ready, and to resist no matter how much his hormones begged him otherwise.
If dying of embarrassment was in fact possible, I could lie as the first victim.
"Rest up and you should be back to torturing students by Wednesday," Recovery Girl concluded with a beam. Shota cursed under his breath, gripping the forearms I offered to help ease him off the examination table. If her smile grew any further she'd grow purple stripes and start hanging around in trees. Aizawa leaned against me, fatigued, and I gave the medic a slight bow in thanks.
"She's senile-"
"We're going now, it's okay."
"What the hell was she even talking about-"
His head lowered, body falling heavily into the car with a sigh. The smile from before tugged at my lips again as he closed his eyes, already halfway asleep. "Who knows? Senility and old age go hand in hand. Be thankful she didn't ask any further probing questions."
His eyes shot open, clearly horrified. "Did she do that to you? Is that what she was muttering about when she lifted your dress?" He looked like an angry cat trying to climb its way free of the restraining seat belt. I pushed him back in and shut the door, chuckling. The grumbling continued, a slight blush crawling into his neck, until I reached two simple fingers over and pressed them against his florid skin. He was practically comatose in seconds.
The grouchy eraser was still dead to the world, arms crossed and mouth a straight- albeit calmer- line, when I made a detour at my apartment, returning with a hateful ball of obsidian against my chest and my school bag slung across one shoulder. Nasu unfolded like a pill bug in Aizawa's lap before quickly worming between his arms, furry head hiding in the crook of a casted elbow.
In less than fifteen minutes we were back at the rural flats. I fished the keys from Shota's pocket, miraculously not disturbing his slumber, and carried my bags and one furry heathen into the apartment before returning for the last bit of cargo.
He mumbled something, sleep in his eyes and head lolled, as I guided him into the dim apartment. Nasu made quick business of investigating the space, tail high and twitching. By the time I'd settled into the recliner, thermos at my side and lesson plans towered precariously on the slid-over ottoman, Nasu was nothing but two giant emerald eyes, camouflaged into the black of Shota's long-sleeved shirt and purring vivaciously. I didn't know whether to be pleased or disgusted.
Business had seemed to continue as usual. My inbox blared an ugly red number as soon as I figured out the wifi password (scribbled in annoyingly elegant handwriting on the side of the router), flooded with concerned student emails, faculty chains, and reminders from Principal Nezu of the cancelled classes and upcoming Sports Festival. In a fit of hysteria Kayama must have sent a dozen or so messages, growing more and more threatening until all-fury, caps-locked headers broke loose, demanding a response soon or she would set my apartment complex on fire.
By All Might's golden mane, please don't let her harass Toshinori into admitting where I live.
The hours meandered along. I set up a few online assignments, readying for the return to normalcy, graded the essays of last week (discussions must be held with Bakugo, who didn't seem to understand bolding his personal beliefs didn't make them any more accurate, and Kaminari, who apparently thought I wouldn't catch on to his larger punctuation points and how they affected the length of his paper), and planned for the shortened week ahead.
My memories of the Sports Festival were few and far between; Mom didn't find the bludgeoning of teenagers particularly entertaining, and I had always been more into films and novels than anything real-time television had to offer. Given the choice of watching the festival re-run at one AM or forgoing the entire endeavor, I'd almost always chosen the latter option.
This year, however, would be monumentally different: I knew those teenagers.
I saw them nearly every day, could recall every name and face and a handful of oddities for each individual. This was a school-ran function, sure, and there was a medic on duty, but still. My eyes caught on the silvering scar on my forearm.
It all comes at a price.
Fatigue nibbled at my corners and two glowing eyes opened, as if sensing my warming body. Nasu jumped, lithe and silent, as I shut my computer and slid sideways in the recliner, gliding between my waiting arms with a breathy purr. I curled around him, thoughts drifting.
If we survived a villain attack, we'd all survive the Sports Festival. Classes would return to normal. And somewhere in between, I would go on a blissful first date with the moody, subtly-nervous Eraserbrain.
"Who are you?"
The water was dark; darker than the obsidian sky, depth unfathomable. I hovered on its glassy surface, barefoot and cold.
The water swirled, encircling where I lay, cracking veins into the ice.
Something was lurking beneath the surface.
"Who. Are. You."
I pressed my forehead against the opaque surface.
Two burning, red eyes glowered back, face lost in the mist.
A mewling, soft as a whisper, drew my attention away from the water.
Her fur was ignited by the moonlight, somehow alive in the stillness.
I knew who she was.
My knees shook as I started towards her, lips parting to call her name.
The ice shattered around her.
Great jaws opened, waiting.
Her breath was the last piece of her to be crushed.
I choked, thrashing against the confines of something, wrapped around me with unbreakable force. I clawed at the grasp, flailing and crying until a hand caught my jaw.
Two red eyes watched me.
Only this time, I knew these glowing, frantic eyes, hair electrified in the still air.
Why, why here, with him, why now?
I swallowed giant gulps of air and covered my face, jerking to the left and trying to roll away. Shota refused, still cradling me in his arms, kneeling on the hard floor that I'd tumbled onto in my fit. My skin felt raw, clammy, and I wiped at my eyes, humiliation burning more tears into the ducts.
Stop. Stop stop stop.
"Chiyo, what happened?" There was worry and urgency in his tone, inflecting the question into a statement. Shota pulled my hands away. I tried to laugh; it came out as a nervous, guttural hiccup.
"It was just a nightmare. I'm sorry- this is insanely embarrassing, I don't usually-"
"How long have you had nightmares like that?" Sable hair floated back to earth and the charcoal of his irises began to return, still flecked with worry. I tried to focus on anything other than the gentle way he was holding me and the electricity of his pulse against mine.
"I don't know. Forever? Since I was a kid," His grip had weakened and I seized the opportunity, jumping away and cleaning the tornado of papers I'd left in my wake. "They usually involve drowning, or this...Face, that taunts me," My hands stilled. Shota was still on his knees, gaze intense.
Tell him.
"The face...When we were at the USJ and the League first showed up and I froze- it wasn't just because I was afraid of the attack itself," The plunge was deep, with a chance of no rope to catch me. I looked at his face, caught the pinking scar under his eye. "The face I see in those nightmares, the one that drowns me? It's him. Tomura Shigaraki."
This was, quite obviously, the last thing Shota Aizawa had expected me to say.
If the moment wasn't so tense, I would snap a picture of his shocked expression and print a hundred copies to litter the halls of UA with.
Instead I bit my lip, sliding into a sitting position to face him.
"I've never seen him in my life- in real life, I mean. But he seemed to recognize me, too," The memory surfaced; his murky eyes, the way he drew out the question as if asking himself, the touch. I raised my hand, covering the mole by my mouth. The skin was smooth, but endless hours of obsessing and covering every blemish and beauty mark in my younger years had left me with acute awareness. Someone had once told me such marks were remnants of past lives. I'd often wondered if the leveled mole near my ear had been the last I'd ever received in the cycle.
"Have you told anyone about this?"
I drew out of my thoughts, shaking my head. "Just you."
Shota looked out the window, expression as distant as the clouds. Part of me wanted to scooch closer, pull his face to mine and pretend everything that had just transpired was part of my still-dreaming brain.
Another part considered fabricating an excuse and skipping town, too nervous to face what I'd just admitted out loud and how his opinion of me was probably about to change.
"Are you…" His voice faded, eyes still unreadable.
Part A won out, drawing me closer to him.
"Am I what?"
Reluctance moved him slowly, bringing a reserved, conflicted face towards mine. "Are you...sure, your mother doesn't possess a quirk?"
What?
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You were sleeping normally, but then suddenly something felt...Off. Like when you feel someone's watching you, even though there's no one around." His eyes roamed my face, mouth a sagging line. "I activated my quirk and you suddenly went totally still. When I blinked and released erasure, you went ballistic, thrashing and crying out. I thought maybe I'd caused the reaction. Do your- Is this a normal reaction for you?"
Normally, when they happened, I'd wake up still in bed, the only evidence of the nightmare's existence being the tight, dry paths cut across my cheeks, dewdrops still in my lashes.
"I don't know. I don't ever really remember what they're about- just the feeling of them. Of drowning, or sinking, or this face, with red eyes and a voice like nails on a chalkboard. What does this have to do with my mom?" Pain was stitching its way through my forehead. Shota leaned over and grabbed my thermos, waiting as I took several long thankful gulps.
"She's not in the database."
"So? Wait, you looked my mom up? Why?"
"Everyone's in the database; not just quirk users."
The pain took a distinct turn, racing down the center of my skull. "This is ridiculous."
His mouth bent as I stood. "I asked a friend at the station to investigate and he also came up with nothing. Don't you think it's a little odd, that there's no trace of her in any Japanese database?
"Maybe Tsutomi is her maiden name!" My voice was rising with my anger. "Maybe my father was a villain. Maybe he's still alive, so she used a different surname. I don't know. But that has nothing to do with her having a quirk, which she doesn't have. If she did, I'd know."
Somewhere down the line I'd started to shout, vision distorted in anger and feet pacing. A hand caught my wrist and I whipped away, vicious, only to find him struggling to stand. The anger blew out like a released balloon, replaced with insurmountable shame.
"Shota, I'm sorry, let me-" I braced his arms with my own, feet shuffling and gaining no purchase on the slick floor. He tried to suppress a noise of discomfort, standing at last, and I hid my face in his shirt, hands clenched on either side of my head.
He just breathed for a moment, and then a moment longer.
Two arms finally folded around me, gentle.
"I'm sorry." I mumbled into his chest.
"It's okay. I shouldn't have sprung that on you."
My forehead rubbed against his chest as I shook my head. "Everything feels like it's changing, and when it comes to my mom, I'm already crazy. I shouldn't have freaked out like that. Plus you're hurt, and I had you on the floor-"
"If you start blubbering all over my shirt, I'll charge you the dry cleaning."
A laugh bubbled out of my throat. His face was soft when I finally looked up, arms looped around my waist. I took a deep breath.
"I'll ask her about it, okay? But when I'm ready."
He nodded, accepting this answer.
We stood, bodies warm against one another, caught in a moment.
Nasu let out a long, earth-splintering meow.
"The little traitor was snuggled in your arms just as soon as you landed on the couch," Heat still warmed my cheeks as we pulled apart, mood killed by the baleful-looking feline perched on the ottoman.
"He was scratching at the sliding glass door a while ago. I assume he's an indoor cat, though?"
I looked over, surprised. "He does try and get out at home on occasion, but only if he sees something he wants. I set up a little litter box up in the kitchen, so it's not like he's looking for a relieving area," I picked up the fluffball in question, wandering over to the door. "What did you see?"
Standing very still, I submersed a few feet out of the door, feeling for life.
Five hearts beat back against mine.
I dropped Nasu in surprise; he landed on all fours, tail flicking in annoyance as he bounded away. A dark head tilted, curious. His face looked even better today. Coupled with the easy, laid-back way he'd tied back his hair, I found myself way too preoccupied staring at Shota Aizawa than any person probably should.
He unlocked the door, standing aside as I journeyed out and followed the heartbeats. The grass was soft and glossy from inadequate sunlight, matted down from someone's trail and winding around to a latticed-sided deck, one segment broken open like the mouth of a shallow cave.
"Chiyo-"
I ignored Shota's warning, falling on all fours and crawling into the tight space. Mud clung to my dress, cool against my palms, but the sight before me melted all other sensations into the background.
"Do you...have a cat?" I asked. The ruggedness of Shota's cheek scraped against mine as his head suddenly appeared, taking in the sight.
A queen, fur a patchwork of colors, peered back at us. Four little bodies were tucked to her side, paws pink and bodies covered in soft downy.
"You had your kittens, I see," Shota commented, sounding unsurprised. The mother looked on as if she understood, releasing a quiet purr when he reached out and scratched behind her ears. My hands flapped like a flightless bird and they both turned to me in confusion, as if he and I hadn't stumbled upon the greatest discovery since penicillin.
"Shota," I expelled some of the unbridled energy by repeatedly slapping his arm, "Shota, kittens."
He rubbed his arm, staring at me like I'd grown another head. "Yeah, Chiyo. Kittens! Amazing!"
I hit him again. He hissed, not expecting the new caliber of force. Baby.
"It's getting colder at night. Should we move them inside?" I flattened onto my belly, lifting a tentative hand towards the squirming bundles. After a quick inspection-sniff the mother permitted me. Each body rose and fell quickly, heartbeat rapid in their little tufted chests. A shoulder pushed against mine, adjusting as he, too, reached out, touch gentle on the back of a golden kitten.
"We could try, yeah. I have a spare bedroom. What about Nasu, though?"
I wasn't sure if Nasu had ever even seen another cat. "He's neutered and declawed. Does that make a difference?"
A pair of blue eyes suddenly peeked out of the pile. Another's mouth yawned, teeth like needle points in a pink, pink mouth. This time Shota was prepared for the overjoyed slap, catching my fingers with his own. His mouth formed a thoughtful line.
"We can try and cajole the mom out and show her the room. Her kittens aren't newborns, so I think she'll be able to leave them for a few moments. We'll make sure Nasu's safe, then leave the sliding glass door open. If she brings them, she brings them. If not-Tsutomi."
I'd cradled a kitten in my hands; when Mother didn't react I'd grabbed another, making a basket out of my skirt and choosing another.
"See if Mama will let you pick her up; let's go," I didn't give him a chance to argue. Nasu watched warily from the doorframe of the kitchen, ears flattening against his head when one of the bundled kittens released a soft whine.
The spare room was exactly that- a cheap desk sat in the corner closest to the window and a seemingly unused dresser stood parallel, top bare save a few framed photos and a pile of neatly-folded laundry. One wall had been made into a bookcase, each shelf filled with films and textbooks and novels of various sizes and types.
"If you'd given me a moment, I could've prepared a space," The comment muttered by as Shota walked in, gingerly placing the calico in the middle of the room before exiting once more. I shrugged, mostly to myself, and eased onto the floor, cuddling the kittens in the nest of my skirted legs. Mother came over, tail up and sniffing, but seemed mostly unperturbed. I had the feeling she'd been in here before.
"Is she yours?"
The grumbly Shota was back, a large, empty box in one hand and a few towels tucked over his cast. Guilt bounced against my organs, having once again forgotten that Shota Aizawa was on strict bedrest. He balanced on the balls of his feet, pulling out a box cutter and reducing the four walls to three, creating a makeshift bed.
"In a manner of speaking."
The mother padded over, sitting patiently as the human male folded the towels to the precise box-cushion size. She kneaded her new home, giving two spins before finding contentment.
"What's her name?" I nudged myself over, delivering the kittens to their new home one by one. The staccato of their hearts in my palm resounded like hummingbird wings.
"Cat."
I paused in my work, turning incredulously. Shota scratched his ear, not meeting my eye.
I have no idea why I was surprised.
One kitten pawed another, blinking gummy eyes before falling over itself. There was no greater delight in the world than kittens.
World peace, I supposed. Maybe puppies, at a close second.
"You can be in charge of naming them."
"You're going to keep them all?"
Shota shrugged. "I'm not going to take them to the shelter. They can stay here until they're old enough to leave their mother. After that, maybe I'll see if anyone wants to adopt one."
There were four kittens; each a different color varying from golden to as dark as Nasu.
A light bulb switched on somewhere in my brain.
"Kayama, Yamada, Toshinori, and us; we can each take a kitten," The colors even matched up, save the ashen tabby, paws already sprouting bouts of white fur. "I wonder if we should name Kayama's for her…"
"We're going to share a kitten?" He sounded doubtful. I gave his knee a pat, miming Recovery Girl as I aged my voice.
"Good practice for the future, Shota!"
I nearly fell face-first into the box of kittens, he rushed up and out of the room so fast.
"I was just kidding, geez! Such a baby!" I called, rolling over onto the floor in a fit of snickers. A door slammed somewhere in the apartment and the second wave of giggles burst through, just as the Mama cat began a vibrating purr.
"Thank you. I thought it was funny, too." I told her, giving her silky head a good pet. She let out another heavy pur as I hoisted myself up to better assess the room.
There were more books than movies in the bookcases, certainly, but I was still impressed with his collection. Films from every decade seemed to grace his shelves, from classics to cheesy monster flicks; some that critics adored and others they would certainly balk at. My eye caught a childhood favorite and I plucked it from the shelf, noticing the wear and tear of the slipcover. He couldn't have had this as a kid; formats have changed so much since then.
"You don't have a secret love child, right?" His silhouette was just visible in my periphery, leaning against the door frame as I held up the film. He snorted and I grinned, turning to face him.
Shota crossed his arms, the essence of nonchalance. "I may have sowed my wild oats in my novice hero years, so who knows?"
My smile resolutely dropped.
Something bitter nipped at my lungs just before he chuckled. "It's a good movie. The enjoyment of animated films doesn't have to be exclusive to one age group."
"Didn't say it was," My voice was clippy; too revealing of the annoyance his comment had panged me with. A raging green monster had begun to feast on my organs, growing in ferocity and clear, irrational hysteria. With every thought of a young, attractive enigma hero, smooth in movement and nature and saving weak-kneed damsels in distress, the monster took another bite. I ignored Aizawa's stupid smirking face and returned the movie case to its home before stalking out of the room. Nasu watched from the arm of the couch as the pompous enigma followed me in, now holding the movie in question himself.
"Do you want to watch it?"
"You're supposed to be resting."
He awoke the television with a remote, bending over to fiddle with a player. "So I'll put it in and we can take a nap with it on in the background. Win-win."
My stomach flipped at the we. I cursed my infatuation, watching a knowing smile dimple his left cheek.
It didn't mean I had to make it easy for him.
I sat, arms crossed, as he moved the pillows and blankets around my stubborn form to face the screen already playing out the opening logos, sound emanating from two tower speakers on either side of the television. That dimple smiled down at me, lips only curving further.
"Now who's being a baby?" He chuckled. I sniffed and the Green Monster cheered me on, shaking an angry fist in Aizawa's direction.
My legs were suddenly bent at the knee, thrown over his arm as he braced my shoulders and lifted me effortlessly to toss me further up the couch. A shout fell out of my mouth as my body landed, caught between his and the back of the couch. Emerald eyes continued to watch the scene unfold before dipping down onto the couch as well, picking their way between our legs and curling into the bowl of my lap. Shota settled in, sweeping my hair away to avoid eating a mouthful.
He smelled...fresh, like mountain air. Or the earth right at dawn.
I shifted, just a fraction, and inhaled.
"Have you seen this before, then?"
I recrossed my arms, ignoring how soft his breath was on my temple, the arm gently curved around me, nestling me into the empty space his side created. I wiggled down, throwing my legs over his knees, neck finding the curve of his shoulder.
"Obviously."
His lips caressed my temple and the Green Monster melted into a sickly-pink pile of goo.
Traitor, I accused. A lazy smile floated on its surface, looking sheepish and completely defenseless to the soft lips of one Eraserbrain.
"I could list my conquests, if you want."
"I could leave you and track down All Might and mother his children, if you want."
Shota snorted, though there was a clear note of derision in the inflection. "What, so he could rip your body into pieces? It'd be like that Donkey Kong arcade game, where the gorilla steals the princess- if she wasn't saved, and the gorilla did take her-"
I reached both hands up to stop the words from continuing, eyes never leaving the screen. His mouth twisted against my fingers but complied to the demand.
My hands took a generous amount of time to wander away, brushing across the bristles of his chin, his jaw, before returning to my lap. Shota ran a hand down my arm and I caught his fingers with my own, feeling his heart beat a little quicker against my shoulder. I gave the goo-monster one final nudge before letting her evaporate, filtering the sky a hazy sunset pink.
Fighting against submersion was like standing on a mountain peak with a one-hundred-mile-an-hour whipping in your face.
It took extreme concentration to not fall into its lull.
Luckily, his thoughts proved powerful in resistance.
Because the more he thought about it, the more he believed Chiyo Tsutomi's mother did possess a quirk- a powerful one, at that.
The way Chiyo had broken through, piece by piece, in using her quirk; how she'd kept her usage a complete secret to everyone. How and why she hadn't told her mother about Friday.
How she'd spent a weekend away, returned to her mother, and came back to school oblivious of having used her quirk just a few days earlier, denying its capabilities outside of regulation.
The nightmares of drowning.
UA's database was one of the most thorough in the country, used by professional heroes regularly to track suspects, victims, and everyone in between.
So how did Hannei Tsutomi fall into this? And what did Tomura Shigaraki have to do with it?
Chiyo's soft breathing rolled with the credits; she had fallen asleep somewhere in the second act after murmuring countless "fun facts" about the film's creation. Aizawa had taken great pleasure in watching her fight fatigue, long lashes slowly falling before she'd shake herself awake, blinking hard a few times before succumbing to the same routine. She was a girl-shaped heater, increased in warmth by the ink spill breathing in her lap, chests rising and falling in unison.
Chiyo's information was all available; her birth date, dental records, every single school and occupation she'd filled, down to the most recent fingerprinting for her UA application. Under guardians, however, it was listed as See other. There were no other attached documents; it was as if they'd been wiped from existence. Why? And why had no one questioned this before?
A slender leg gave a sudden twitch. Nasu awoke with a stretch, moving out of the way as his mother turned, curling into Shota's side as if a cat herself. In seconds he felt the spot of his shirt where her face landed, dampening from her open-mouthed breathing. This is an every-day occurrence, I see.
He would dig deeper, find more evidence before bringing it up again. Her reaction had been instantaneously subversive. Even more odd- she seemed far more off-put by his accusation of her mother having a quirk than the fact she wasn't in the database.
But how much of that was natural?
Fingers grasped at his shirt and she mumbled in her sleep, smacking her lips as if tasting something sour, muttering about the morality of stealth quirks before furrowing her face deeper into his chest, shoulders tense. He ran his fingers across the downy hair edging her neck and the tension soothed, mouth pooling slobber only moments later.
It could be nothing; he could be making mountains of molehills.
But it wouldn't hurt to look a little closer.
"Come on, it's fun!"
Shota Aizawa stared as if I'd lost my damn mind.
Which, considering I was jumping around his living room barefoot, sweat sliding down my spine and gyrating my hips in time with some poppy, vapid song from the television, I just might well have.
"This is asinine."
"No, it's fun!"
I popped, locked, and dropped in tandem with the faceless figure on the television for emphasis. Shota continued to watch, unconvinced.
"Is this...What you consider a workout routine?"
I ignored his tone and focused on the dance at hand, moving as if a puppeteer controlled my every move. "I'm sweating, so why not?"
I'd woken up, mouth gluey and throat dry, tucked against an absent-minded man brushing the baby hairs from my forehead. His boyish smile had been too much; I jumped nearly a foot in the air before clambering out of his arms, digging through one of my bags for the surprise I'd forgotten all about and hurrying to the bathroom to change into the leggings and long-sleeved shirt I'd also brought.
He seemed as interested in my gaming console and dance game as Nasu did when it came to bath time.
"You're injured so I won't make you play, but it is fun."
"I don't dance."
I did an electric slide to the left, throwing a look his way when I slid back to the right. "Yes you do. I've seen you. With me. Did the attack leave you with amnesia?"
"Let me rephrase: I don't dance to idiot games that focus more on where your hand is than actual rhythm or movement. I could win just sitting here and moving one arm."
The song ended and I panted at the ceiling, mouth sliding back with gravity. Fighting with Shota Aizawa was like arguing with an eight year old prodigy- points landed with logic but were so tightly wrapped up in sulky brattiness you wanted to smack him upside the head.
"It's not about winning. It's about having fun," I did a little shake for emphasis. "One day I'll enter one of those street competitions, win a million dollars, and then retire to my own private island,"
"Yeah?" Nasu jumped into his lap, unbothered by my actions from many a similar night in my apartment. I scooped him up and spun around, letting his chubby legs dangle in the air. "Nasu seems thrilled."
"He's just not used to me playing this fully clothed."
Someone perked up at that. I shimmied further away with a smirk before cooing to my lovable furball, ignoring the indignant flicking of his tail.
I knew every single dance by heart, having spent the last year of college playing in the dorms and then at the local video store I'd worked at, challenging twelve year olds and letting them take free movies just so they'd come back after I demolished them. No one spit on my guided dance skills.
"One more song and I'll stop."
Shota remained judgmental from the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed. I dropped low, just like the figure on television, and threw him a wink over my shoulder. His eyes widened, just a fraction, but I was off, thrashing and jumping along with the dance anthem.
Applause concluded the song; both from the television and Shota Aizawa, looking grudgingly impressed. I gave a deep bow, pretending to wave at my fans, and was awarded by a snort.
"I'm surprised someone as klutzy as you has that much natural rhythm."
"Years of practice," I wiped at my brow, trying not to puff as I powered down the console and returned it to my bag. "I'm serious about winning a competition, I'm telling you."
"Mm."
There was something in his expression. Two hands landed on my jutted hips, expectant. He chuckled again.
"You have good movement. Fluid. You could be a good close-combat fighter, with submersion. And training," His eyes turned smug. "A lot of training."
"Yeah?" My brain only grazed across the insult, more stuck on the compliment. Submersion was leagues easier to wield skin-to-skin; could I become skilled enough to make a difference in the world?
"I didn't know you could feel out water like you did finding the kittens, either. That could be really useful in search-and-rescue." He shrugged one shoulder. "Just something to think about."
A thin stint of pain grew in the back of my throat at the idea, easily swallowed by the overwhelming notion that I could become someone more. Less of a damsel, more of...what? An equal? Do I see myself as 'less than'? Have I always?
"We can smell your brain cooking, Tsutomi. Chill out."
Two sets of eyes observed me from the couch. I grinned, sheepish. There would be plenty of time to let my thoughts spiral out of control later, in the safety of my apartment. "I'm going to grab a kitten. Keep Nasu on the couch, okay?"
Mama cat was sleeping on the window sill, an ear flattening upon my entrance. Two of her babies wrestled in the box beneath her, another still snuggled in a toweled corner fast asleep. One, however, was examining a bookcase, striped grey tail high in the air. I caught its feather-soft little body just as it jumped, bound to fall back to the floor anyway. The whiskered face bobbled on a weak neck, looking up with two sapphire eyes. My insides melted like butter before I planted a dozen kisses across its little head.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
I waved off his concern, sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch with the kitten nosing out of my skirt.
Green eyes turned at the movement, pupils dilating. Shota put a calming hand on Nasu's fur as he slowly crawled across his thighs, focus set on the peeping kitten oblivious to his presence. Nasu sleuthed closer.
"Chiyo-"
The kitten finally noticed the black panther prowling and, without so much as a sound, pounced. Nasu let out a surprised yowl, a flash of darkness hissing and falling over himself before racing out of the room. The kitten let out a sound of its own, as if laughing, and pranced over to bat at Shota's fingers.
Well. We knew who would have custody first.
"It could've been worse!" I tried. "He could've tried to eat her."
Shota let out a hum, wiggling his fingers to the pleasure of the kitten. "Is this one ours?"
"I think so, yeah."
"Parenting is a lot of work, you know," He commented. The kitten crawled into his palm and he lifted it, unbothered as its little claws scratched at his face. "There's a lot of responsibility involved."
"We already share twenty kids. How much more work can it be?" I joked.
Then again, those twenty kids were seemingly always in danger and landed both of us in the hospital just two days ago.
I glanced over at the kitten, a little more nervous than before.
"How will we name it?"
"We could try and combine our names," Something buzzed in my brain at the notion, like a weird moment of deja vu. I paused, but nothing surfaced. I shook my head, returning to the moment. "Like...Chizawa, or Shotomi-"
"No." Shota's answer was immediate, flat. He lowered the grey tabby back to the couch and I poked the bulbous belly, earning a pitiful whine. "We could just call her cat, like the other-"
"No," It was my turn to be dry. "You can tell it's a girl?"
He nodded, lifting her tail and gesturing. I didn't see anything but nodded, wondering if maybe that was the point. In the corner of the room Nasu stood watching, wide-eyed and flat-eared, tail flickering with each move the oblivious kitten made.
"What about Endo? Like a little sweet pea, because she'll always probably be smaller than Nasu."
Shota's eyes found mine, lips twitching. "You want to name our cat after a vegetable?"
I shrugged. "I named Nasu after one. They'll be siblings."
"So I'm fathering two kids. This is more than I originally expected," He pretended to mull over the complication and I pushed him playfully, picking up the kitten and returning her to the bedroom.
"Nasu answers only to me, sorry. Try back in a few years."
The lowering sun reflected off a picture frame's glass, momentarily blinding my vision. I wandered over, shielding my eyes before picking up the photo and cancelling the laser beam.
A flat-chested girl stood pressed against a skinny, unsmiling, shaggy-haired boy, mirroring the body language of a blonde teenage boy with shiny cheeks squished in on the other side. Both had a hand raised to pull at the corners of the grumpy one's face, forcing him to smile.
"Oh my God," I breathed.
A teenage Shota Aizawa, memorialized in color, trapped between a curveless Nemuri Kayama and wild-haired Hizashi Yamada, who still apparently wore the same sunglasses he had fifteen years prior.
Be still my beating heart.
My hand flew to my pocket, reaching for the phone I'd left in my purse. I cursed the gods. Stealing the entire picture was out of the question- he'd notice for sure.
"Enjoying yourself?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin, furtively hiding the photo behind my back. It was out in plain sight- I wasn't doing anything wrong, regardless of my suddenly-racing heart. Shota eyed me warily and I lifted the frame again, grinning. "You...wouldn't have an extra copy of this lying around somewhere, would you?"
"Afraid not."
I pulled a dramatic sigh, returning the picture with the utmost reluctance. One day, though, I'd have that picture blown up and displayed, poster-size, in UA; it would be the hill I died upon.
"I'm regretful to have never had the chance to meet a teenaged Shota Aizawa, I'm not going to lie," I expressed, gliding back into the living room. With my lessons ready, essays graded, and week envisioned, the next two days off would be spent in near-boredom. I retrieved my gaming bag and placed it with the schoolwork one by the door.
"I wasn't much different than I am now," He puttered with the television, returning the input to cable before clicking it off altogether. "Still tired. Still uninterested in socializing."
"Are we not socializing?"
He turned with a wry smile. "So far we've taken a handful of naps and adopted a kitten. I'm not sure if that qualifies."
"We also slow danced in front of my date and had a domestic dispute in a parking lot and another at an educator's seminar, don't forget." I spun on my heel, looking around for Nasu. Shota released a scoffing sort of noise.
"What were you like?"
"In high school?" I fell on all fours, examining the underside of the couch. Not even a dust bunny. "Quiet. Anxious. Just your run-of-the-mill, unattractive nerd. Though I never suffered particularly from acne; I assume my quirk had something to do with that."
Shota snorted again and I rose, brows raised. "What?"
He shook his head, kneeling down to catch Nasu as he padded by. "I don't believe you."
"If that's your attempt at tricking me into whipping out the band pictures to display me and all my geeky grandeur, you'll have to try harder."
I pulled the elastic from my hair, releasing the strands from the french braid I'd sewn together for the dance workout. A waft of my shampoo filled the air like a miasma and I sighed in relief, shaking out the kinks of the braid. I walked over to take Nasu.
Pale hands offered him over, a dimple just hollowing the point of his mouth.
"I meant I don't believe you were unattractive," He explained, quieter than usual. "I can't imagine you any less than what you are now."
Nasu gave an angry yelp; I'd squeezed him by accident, lungs suddenly too small for all the air they needed.
"I was mostly just an awkward mess, ninety-nine percent of the time."
Shota brushed the hair off my shoulder, touched the freckle in the hollow of my collar bone with sudden agitation.
"Don't sell yourself short, Tsutomi. It's a major turn-off."
"Good thing I don't live to turn you on, Aizawa."
He smirked, cross-armed and close enough to bite. I lost sight of his eyes when they flicked to my mouth, snagged on one corner to the other. I jerked, a bramble of movements and stupidity. "I have to get Nasu to the car; I'll be right back."
Why do you do this? My brain raged, furious as I flew out of Shota's apartment like a bat out of Hell. That was A Moment, and you fled like a chicken. Nasu gave a purr at my thoughts, settling in the passenger seat and looking up at his scatter-brained human with all the empathy in the world.
"Go for it," He was practically saying with those universe-wielding eyes. "Go back and be the bad bitch you are."
Bad bitch? I thought back, caught off guard by the explicit word choice.
I then realized I was beginning an imaginary argument amidst an imaginary conversation with my non-verbal, non-telepathic cat, and with one final pet I shut the door and walked back to Shota Aizawa's apartment with determination.
He stood as a slender silhouette in the dying sun, eyes half-lidded and on the horizon, hair pulled away from his face in an ever-undone knot. He turned upon my entrance, head angling in question as my pace didn't slow, jump as fluid as Nasu onto the ottoman, using it as a stepping stone to defeat his height.
I crashed into him like one crashes into bed at the end of a long, hard day; full force, with every limb. He staggered at the sudden weight and I kept one foot on the ottoman for balance, unconcerned as I caught his lips with mine, fingers smoothing into his hair, thumbs caressing the gentle skin below his temple. An arm wrapped around my back and the other grabbed the leg braced on the ottoman, tugging it around his waist. I pulled him closer and a thousand champagne bottles burst open in my stomach, spine curving in response to the hand roaming up my thigh, curling around my backside.
He tasted like naps and soft smiles, sulky shyness and desire. I licked his top lip and they parted, head tilting, deepening the kiss. His hands tightened around me and liquid heat pooled in my belly.
I pulled away, just slightly, and his mouth pursued, spilling the warmth out into every pore, every nerve.
"Chiyo," It was caught somewhere between a sigh and a warning. Two murky eyes found mine and I looked back, noting the flush in his neck, the quickened pace of his breath. He was giving me a chance to taper off, stop here and now, regardless of his desire.
Which was obvious, because it was reflected in my own features.
I pressed into him, crushed his mouth with my own to be met by the same fervent touch. My body suspended in midair before he lowered us onto the nearby couch, hand caressing up my waist, across my stomach. Concern still somehow wormed into my racing mind, leading one leg to push him against the back of the couch, maneuvering him into the safety of the cushions, placing me on top. He pulled away in confusion before I leaned back down, grasping my hair in one hand and cupping his face with the other, molding us together again.
He counted the vertebrae of my spine, slipped underneath the loose fabric of my shirt. The column moved in response, pressing me against his hips and earning a surprised noise from his lips.
I had never been a party girl, or hook-up partner; neither seemed of much interest to me. The relationships I'd had, while few, mostly fizzled out before anything could turn hot and heavy. Making out always ended up awkward and in the front seat of someone's car with me counting down the seconds until surely, surely, it had been long enough, so I could slip back into my house and tv shows.
Here, straddling the soft-breathing, ruffled Shota Aizawa, skin warm against mine, I couldn't think of one single place in the world I'd rather be.
The hand in my hair gave a gentle pull to angle my face. Teeth suddenly nipped at my neck, the scruff of his face razing every neuron hidden in the soft flesh. My body shuddered and his mouth responded, kissing and licking across my collar bone, back up to the soft space under my ear. "Shota."
My body melted into his, buzzing and raging, fighting to continue as I pulled just slightly out of his mouth's reach. I sat up and every sense roared in protest, blurring my vision, thickening my breath. I thought to blush but the swell of Shota Aizawa's chest, rising and falling in tempo with mine, cut my embarrassment short.
We watched each other, breathing as if we'd been sparring. In a way, I suppose, we had.
"You're supposed to be resting," I explained haphazardly. He nodded, unhearing, and my teeth revealed themselves in a lightheaded grin. "And you haven't even taken me on a real date."
"Do you want to go now?" His voice was so serious I burst into laughter, leaning down and kissing him again. A hand brushed my hair from our conjoined faces, gentle and undemanding.
It would be so easy, to stay here, to forget logic and principles.
But I wanted this to work; not fizzle into a string of one-night stands.
"I...really like you, Shota," I admitted to the both of us. A true smile pressed against my skin, our faces were so close.
"I...really like you, too, Chiyo."
"I'm going to get up, and you're going to stay right here. I'm not going to turn around," He nodded, serious again as I explained the procedure. "The window is cracked, but if I'm gone any longer Nasu will probably set this building on fire."
"Good-bye, then." He lifted my arm and kissed the scar on my bicep. Color filled my cheeks and I staggered up, trying not to allow that boyish smile drag me back like a magnet. I grabbed my bags and hurried to my car, Nasu sleeping peacefully in the front seat.
We drove home with all the windows down, even with the chilly night air.
Author's Note - The Kayama-Yamada-Aizawa picture was inspired by fan artwork I saw on Pinterest! I don't know who created the masterpiece, but I hope they don't mind my borrowed likeness- I thought it was too good not to incorporate!
Nasu means eggplant, and Endo means pea- sweet pea would've required extra syllables, and I wanted them both to only have two. I try to incorporate meaning behind all the names I choose, especially for important characters (and who's more important than Nasu and Endo?!)
