After leaving Nezu's office, Aizawa was unusually quiet. That wasn't surprising—he was a naturally broody type—but this silence felt different. He kept glancing at me as if I were some puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

Finally, as we trudged down the hall, he muttered, "A cat with a intelligent... maybe a quirk... No, it can't be. But then again... Nezu's rarely wrong about these things."

Oh no. I froze mid-step, staring up at him. Did he seriously think I had a quirk?

He stopped and crouched down, narrowing his eyes at me. "You're not normal, that's for sure. And if Nezu thinks you're trying to communicate something, then maybe... you've got some kind of mutation or intelligence quirk?"

I mean, technically, you're not wrong... but this isn't helping!

I meowed in protest, but he ignored me, scooping me up into his arms. "We're going to get to the bottom of this."

His tone sent a shiver down my spine. Wherever he was taking me, it wasn't going to end well.

When we arrived at Recovery Girl's office, she was organizing her shelves, humming a tune to herself. She turned at the sound of Aizawa clearing his throat.

"Ah, Shouta," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"Thanks for the observation," Aizawa deadpanned. "I need you to take a look at something."

Her eyes landed on me, still tucked in his arms, and she blinked in confusion. "You brought me a... cat?"

Aizawa nodded. "I think it might have a quirk."

Recovery Girl stared at him like he'd just suggested the moon was made of cheese. "You think... a stray cat has a quirk? And you want me to figure that out?"

"Yes."

"No."

Aizawa frowned. "Why not?"

Recovery Girl sighed, rubbing her temples. "Because I'm a healer for humans, not veterinarians. What exactly do you want me to do? Check its blood pressure? Give it a quirk analysis? Shouta, I'm not equipped for this!"

As if to prove her point, she gestured to her tools, none of which looked remotely suitable for feline diagnostics.

Finally, someone with common sense!

I meowed in agreement, but of course, neither of them understood.

Aizawa set me down on the exam table, much to my dismay. "It's been acting strange. Nezu thinks it's trying to communicate something."

Recovery Girl crossed her arms. "And you think that means it has a quirk?"

He shrugged. "It's possible."

She leaned down to look at me, her sharp eyes studying my face. "Well, it certainly looks healthy enough for a stray. Though it's a bit on the dramatic side, judging by its expression."

Dramatic?!

I glared at her, flicking my tail indignantly.

Recovery Girl chuckled. "See? It's glaring at me like it understands every word I'm saying."

"Exactly," Aizawa said. "It's too intelligent. Even for a cat."

I meowed loudly, trying to convey my frustration, but it only seemed to reinforce their ridiculous theories.

Recovery Girl sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Let's say, hypothetically, this cat has a quirk. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Test it," Aizawa said simply.

She threw up her hands. "And how am I supposed to do that? Hook it up to one of those quirk-detection machines we use on students? Shouta, this is absurd."

"It's not absurd if it turns out to be true."

As they continued to bicker, I decided I'd had enough. Jumping down from the table, I strutted over to Aizawa's bag and started pawing at it.

"What's it doing now?" Recovery Girl asked.

"Drama," Aizawa muttered.

Drama?! 

I'll show you drama!

I shoved my head into his bag and started pulling out papers, scattering them across the floor. If they weren't going to take me seriously, I'd create chaos until they did.

Aizawa groaned. "You're cleaning that up."

I hissed at him and swatted one of the papers under a cabinet for good measure.

Recovery Girl laughed. "Well, it's certainly got personality. I'll give it that."

"Too much personality," Aizawa grumbled, scooping me back up.

Recovery Girl patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Good luck with your little mystery, Shouta. But if you want real answers, you might want to take it to a vet. Or, you know, an actual quirk analyst."

Aizawa sighed, clearly realizing the futility of his visit. "Fine. Thanks for nothing."

As he carried me out of the office, I couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and irritation but he also had to clean up my mess. Sure, Recovery Girl was no help, but at least she'd shut down Aizawa's wild ideas about testing me like a science experiment.