The house was eerily quiet when it happened. Aizawa had finally fallen asleep—well, as much as a man like him could ever really sleep. He'd stretched out on the couch, the glow of his phone casting soft shadows across his face as it sat on the armrest, the screen dark.

I'd been watching him from my perch on the windowsill, the usual hum of nighttime activity outside lulling me into a strange calm. Then, it started: a loud, insistent buzzing that shattered the stillness of the room.

Aizawa groaned, reaching blindly for his phone.

"Yeah?" he rasped, voice heavy with exhaustion.

I perked up, my ears swiveling forward. The tone in his voice changed almost immediately. Alert. Focused.

"Understood," he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I'll head out now."

He hung up, dragging himself to his feet with a sigh. His movements were swift but methodical as he grabbed his capture weapon, tossed on his coat, and pulled on his boots.

And just like that, he was out the door.

Not so fast, I thought, hopping down from the windowsill.

There was no way I was staying behind. Sure, I'd spent the last week sulking around the house, trying to figure out how to fix this mess. But now? This was my chance. If Aizawa was going on a mission, I was going to be there.

Sneaking out wasn't hard. The door hadn't clicked shut all the way, and with a little push, I slipped out into the chilly night air. The city was quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car or the distant bark of a dog.

Aizawa was already a block ahead, moving quickly but quietly. I padded after him, careful to keep my distance.

This is so much harder without my usual stamina, I thought bitterly, my tiny paws making soft thuds against the pavement.

Aizawa didn't glance back once. His focus was entirely on the path ahead, his strides purposeful.

He really is a pro, I admitted grudgingly.

But that didn't mean I was going to let him leave me behind.

The journey through the city was tougher than I expected. My paws, already sore from days of wandering before Aizawa found me, ached against the cold, unforgiving concrete. But I pushed on, determined.

Eventually, we reached what looked like a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Aizawa stopped just outside, pressing a hand to his earpiece as he spoke in hushed tones.

I crouched behind a dumpster, my green eyes wide as I took in the scene.

What's going on here? I wondered, my tail flicking with curiosity.

Aizawa didn't linger long. He slipped inside the warehouse, disappearing into the shadows.

I hesitated. Following him inside was risky—if I got caught, I'd be in serious trouble. Not that Aizawa would ever recognize me as Midoriya. To him, I'd just be a stray cat that had no business being there.

But I need to know what's happening!

Summoning my courage, I darted across the lot and slipped through a small gap in the warehouse door.

The inside was dimly lit, with rows of crates stacked high and a faint hum of machinery in the background. I stuck to the shadows, my movements as silent as I could manage.

From my vantage point, I could see Aizawa crouched behind a stack of crates, his capture weapon coiled around his arm.

What's he waiting for?

Then I heard it—a low, menacing laugh that echoed through the warehouse.

"Well, well," a gruff voice drawled. "Didn't expect Eraserhead himself to show up. This must be serious."

Aizawa didn't respond, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

I crept closer, careful not to make a sound. My heart—or whatever equivalent cats have—was pounding in my chest.

The voice belonged to a man standing in the center of the warehouse, flanked by two others. They didn't look like your typical villains—not in flashy costumes, at least. But the tension in the air was enough to tell me they were dangerous.

I wanted to help. I needed to help. But what could I do like this?

Before I could come up with a plan, one of the men moved toward Aizawa's hiding spot.

"Come out, Eraserhead," he sneered. "We know you're here."

Aizawa didn't move.

My claws dug into the floor as I watched the standoff unfold. Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to do something, anything, to help. But I was powerless.

For now, all I could do was watch—and hope that Aizawa knew what he was doing.