Aizawa sat at the small kitchen table, his coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through what I could only assume were emails from UA. Meanwhile, I was perched nearby, watching him intently like a hawk. Or, more accurately, like a cat with a plan.

You see, he had bacon.

I could smell it the moment he took the pan off the stove, and let me tell you, it smelled like heaven. Way better than the sad, tin-can mush he'd unceremoniously dumped into a bowl for me earlier. Did I eat it? Sure, I was starving. But was I satisfied? Absolutely not.

I eyed the plate of crispy, savory perfection sitting next to him. My tail twitched in anticipation. Aizawa didn't even notice me creeping closer.

Big mistake, Sensei.

Step one: silent approach. I hopped down from my perch and slinked toward the table, keeping low and quiet. My paws barely made a sound as I crept closer.

Step two: diversion. I let out a soft, pitiful meow and rubbed against his leg, the very picture of a starving stray. He glanced down at me, one eyebrow raised.

"What? You've already got food," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the bowl of sad, smelly tuna mush on the floor.

I meowed again, this time with extra drama, tilting my head and blinking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. That's not food, Aizawa. That's an insult.

He sighed. "No."

Fine. If he wasn't going to share willingly, I'd have to take matters into my own paws.

Step three: execute the plan.

As soon as he looked back at his phone, I leapt onto the table in one smooth motion. Before he could even react, I snagged a piece of bacon off his plate and bolted like my life depended on it.

"Hey!" he shouted, nearly spilling his coffee as he reached for me.

But I was too fast. Bacon secured in my jaws, I sprinted across the apartment, my tail high like a flag of victory.

"Get back here!" Aizawa's voice was a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

I darted under the couch, my new safe haven, and settled down to enjoy my prize. The bacon was everything I'd dreamed of and more—crispy, salty, smoky perfection. I let out a satisfied purr as I chewed, thoroughly ignoring the man stomping around the living room trying to find me.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, crouching down to peer under the couch. "You little thief."

I stared back at him, bacon crumbs still on my face, and let out the most innocent meow I could muster.

He sighed heavily, sitting back on his heels. "I don't have time for this."

Victory was mine.