Her voice.

My mom's voice.

I thought I was holding it together, you know? Like, barely, but still technically holding it.

But hearing her just now? Hearing her tell me she's proud of me—even like this?

Yeah, no.

That's what finally cracked me wide open. No sobs, no words—because I can't—but this trembling ache in my chest that made me want to scream out I love you too, I'm still here, I'm still me!

But I couldn't. I still can't.

And that helplessness—it started rising again like bile in my throat. I could feel it creeping in, whispering, You'll never speak again. You'll never be able to tell them how much this means. You'll never be able to—

Then it hit me.

The laptop.

There was a laptop open in the corner.

I don't even think—I just move.

I scramble up and over Mirko's arm, launching myself from her lap to the floor with a little pomf. I hear her yelp a soft "Hey!" behind me, but I don't stop. My tiny paws patter across the floor, nails clicking on the tile. I hop like my life depends on it, darting for that glowing screen like it's the last piece of myself I can still reach.

They follow, I hear them. Rumi's boots, Aizawa's soft steps. Confused murmurs behind me.

"Midoriya?"

"What's he doing?"

"Wait—hey, get down from there—"

But I'm already up.

I scramble onto the chair, then to the desk. I have to rear up a bit, my tiny forepaws sliding against the keyboard. It's awkward. Like trying to play piano with spaghetti noodles.

But I manage it.

Slow. Deliberate. Clumsy.

T-H-A-N-K-

My heartbeat is pounding.

-Y-O-U

There's a pause. I back up slightly so they can see the screen.

Silence behind me.

Then a soft, breathless whisper from Mirko:

"...He typed thank you."

And gods, I didn't realize how badly I needed them to understand until that moment.

That I'm still here.

That I see them.

That I heard everything.

Aizawa steps forward, eyes narrowed—not in suspicion, but focus. He always was good at reading between the lines. He studies me, then the screen, then back again.

And then—he smiles.

It's small. Almost nothing. Just the faintest softening of the lines around his eyes.

But I see it.

"You're welcome, problem child," he murmurs. "You're doing great."

Mirko walks up slowly, her footsteps light, careful. She crouches beside the desk, head tilted. I can see the glint in her eyes—like maybe, just maybe, she's tearing up a little. She leans one elbow on the desk, close enough I could hop into her palm again if I wanted.

"Guess that settles it," she says, voice rough but warm. "You've still got fight in you. Fluffy or not."

I want to type more.

I want to tell them everything. That I'm scared, that I'm grateful, that I still want to be a hero—even like this. That I'm not giving up.

But I can't fit all that into these tiny paws and limited keyboard space.

So instead... I press one paw gently to the return key.

Let the thank you stand.

I'm still perched awkwardly on the laptop keyboard, breathing a little hard from the emotional whiplash and full-speed bunny sprint. Honestly, how do real rabbits not constantly die from stress? Because this little heart of mine is pounding.

Mirko and Aizawa are both kneeling nearby, watching me like I've just discovered fire.

Or... learned how to speak fluent binary.

Honestly, kind of the same thing in this form.

They don't speak right away, which is good. I appreciate the little moment of quiet to breathe, to feel less like my brain's going to short-circuit.

Then Aizawa tilts his head just a little.

"You good?"

I blink up at him.

He raises a brow, then glances at the laptop again. "Can you tell us if you're alright? Physically. Any pain, dizziness, discomfort?"

I shuffle back onto the keyboard and start pecking away again.

F-I-N-E-.-J-U-S-T-T-I-R-E-D

Mirko makes a soft sound—somewhere between a snort and a sigh. "No kidding. You ran off like you were about to explode."

I pause. Then shift to the left side of the keyboard.

T-H-A-N-K Y-O-U-.-A-G-A-I-N

Aizawa hums, low and approving. He's got that calm teacher vibe on full display—low voice, no pressure, eyes watching but not judging.

"Do you remember anything about what happened? Before the... change?"

My paws hover over the keyboard. That's trickier.

I remember the pain. The fear. The sickening realization that I was surrounded during the USJ attack. That no one could hear me scream. That I was alone.

I remember the villains laughing.

And then—white-hot agony. Like being folded in on myself, crushed and rebuilt, everything blurring and twisting—

P-A-I-N-.-V-I-L-L-A-I-N-S-.-D-O-N-T K-N-O-W-H-O-W

Aizawa's jaw tightens slightly, but he nods. "That's fine. You don't need all the answers right now."

Mirko shifts closer, bracing her arms on her knees, and peers at me like I'm some strange little artifact.

"Emotionally, how're you holdin' up, fluffball?" she asks, like she's trying to keep it light but doesn't quite succeed.

I eye her. Slowly, I type:

B-A-R-E-L-Y-.-S-T-I-L-L-M-E

Then I pause, tilt my head dramatically, and slap out:

M-O-C-H-I-? S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y-?

She freezes. A beat. Then bursts into actual wheezing laughter.

"Oh my god, he hates it. He actually hates it." She clutches her stomach. "I knew I picked a dumb name, but I didn't think you'd clap back like this."

Aizawa—stone-faced, deadpan—just mutters, "It was a dumb name."

Mirko flails a hand in his direction. "It was adorable!"

I make a show of turning away from both of them dramatically. My ears flick like a diva flicks their scarf. I can feel the sarcasm radiating from my fur.

I-'M-A-M-I-D-O-R-I-Y-A-.-N-O-T-A-D-E-S-S-E-R-T

Aizawa actually chuckles under his breath. Mirko presses her hand to her mouth like she's trying not to lose it again.

"Fine, fine," she grins. "No more Mochi. I'll call you... Captain Fluff."

My eyes narrow.

T-H-I-S-I-S-A-T-T-A-C-K

"She's definitely messing with you," Aizawa says helpfully.

I let out the most dramatic rabbit sigh imaginable, then finally type:

I-L-I-K-E-B-E-I-N-G-W-I-T-H-M-I-R-K-O-.-S-H-E-S-A-F-E

That shuts them both up for a second.

Mirko blinks. Her smile softens in a way I haven't seen before—not smug or teasing or feral. Just... warm. Maybe a little misty.

"Thanks, kid," she says softly. "You're safe with me too. Always."

Aizawa doesn't say anything, but I can feel the approval in his gaze. The way he stands up a little straighter, like he's proud. Like maybe I'm doing okay.