As the room settled into silence, the weight of the day's events finally bore down on Aizawa. He sat on the couch for a moment longer, his head resting against the back cushion, before his body simply gave in. With a quiet sigh, he slumped to one side, his exhaustion winning the battle. Within moments, the soft rhythm of his breathing told me he'd drifted off to sleep.

I watched him, perched at the edge of the couch, my small paws tucked beneath me in a loaf position. Aizawa looked... peaceful, but the lines of stress on his face hadn't disappeared. The faint traces of worry still lingered, etched into his features like scars that wouldn't fade.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel entirely alone. Aizawa knew now. He knew I wasn't gone—not really. And that knowledge settled something deep in my chest, something that had been coiled tight since the moment I woke up in this feline body.

But even with that comfort, there was a heaviness I couldn't shake.

I glanced down at my paws, flexing them against the fabric of the couch. These were my paws. Not hands. Not anymore. My tail swished behind me, a physical reminder of the body I was trapped in.

Trapped.

The word lingered in my mind, bitter and sharp.

I let out a quiet sigh and curled up next to Aizawa, my small frame fitting perfectly against his side. His steady warmth was comforting, grounding me in the present even as my thoughts wandered.

Being a cat wasn't the worst thing in the world. I had a home, food, people who cared about me—or at least, Aizawa did. But it wasn't me. It wasn't the life I was meant to live.

I was supposed to be a hero.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut. All those years of dreaming, training, pushing myself to be better—it all seemed so distant now, like a memory from another life. And maybe that's what it was.

I'd fought so hard to prove I could be a hero, that I didn't need a quirk to make a difference. And now? Now I had a body that wasn't even mine, a form that couldn't hold a pen, let alone save anyone.

My tail flicked in irritation, betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside me.

I wanted to believe there was a way back, a path that would lead me out of this nightmare and back into the life I'd built for myself. But the truth was... I didn't know if that path existed.

And the longer I stayed like this, the harder it was to hold onto that hope.

The worst part? A small, traitorous part of me didn't even mind anymore.

Life as a cat wasn't all bad. I didn't have to deal with the pressure, the expectations, the constant uphill battle of proving myself. I could sleep whenever I wanted, eat whenever I wanted (as long as Aizawa remembered to feed me), and spend my days doing whatever I pleased.

But that wasn't who I was.

I wasn't built for this. I wasn't meant to spend my life curled up on couches and chasing string. I was meant to be out there, making a difference, fighting for the things that mattered.

I glanced up at Aizawa, his face calm and unguarded in sleep. He'd fought so hard for me—for all of us. And now, he was fighting again, trying to figure out how to help me when I didn't even know how to help myself.

My ears twitched at the thought, and I pressed closer to him, seeking his warmth like a lifeline.

Maybe this was my life now. Maybe I was stuck like this forever.

The thought was terrifying, but it was starting to feel more real with every passing day.

I closed my eyes, letting the rhythmic rise and fall of Aizawa's breathing lull me into a state of calm. For now, I could rest. For now, I could pretend that everything was okay.

But deep down, I knew I couldn't give up.

Not yet.

I might be a cat, but I was still me. Still Izuku Midoriya.

And if there was one thing I was good at, it was finding a way forward, no matter how impossible it seemed.

For now, though, I allowed myself to drift off next to Aizawa, his presence a quiet reassurance in the chaos of my thoughts.