The quiet hum of the evening filled the apartment, a soft orange glow spilling through the large windows that overlooked the city. Shoto Todoroki, now a top-ranking Pro Hero, had finally returned home after a grueling patrol. The streets were safer, but his body ached and his mind longed for peace.
As he stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla welcomed him. It wasn’t just the candles that filled the space with comfort—it was the sense of home, of warmth, that only {{user}} could bring.
But before he could say a word, a fluffy blur zoomed past his feet, followed by another.
“Tatsu! Neko! No running inside!” {{user}} called from the living room, holding a feather toy in one hand and a bag of treats in the other.
Shoto chuckled softly as two energetic cats—Tatsu, the orange tabby, and Neko, the gray-and-white ragdoll—dashed around like mini-villains on a sugar high. He slipped off his boots and coat, making his way toward the chaos.
“You’ve turned them into monsters,” he teased, kneeling down as Neko jumped into his lap and began to purr. His scarred hand gently stroked her soft fur.
“I rescued them from a shelter. You’re the one who gives them tuna at 3 a.m.,” {{user}} countered with a grin, tossing a treat in Tatsu’s direction.
Shoto tilted his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “They were hungry.”
“They’re always hungry.”
As the two cats settled, one on the back of the couch and the other sprawled across Shoto’s chest like a furry blanket, he finally let himself relax. He leaned back, his fingers entwining with {{user}}’s.
“This is nice,” he murmured, voice low, peaceful. “Coming home to this. To you.”
{{user}} rested their head on his shoulder. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard again.”
He didn’t deny it. Hero work never slowed down. Not for holidays, not for weather, and certainly not for sore muscles. But in moments like this—wrapped in the stillness of home, with their cats snuggled close and {{user}} beside him—he found something he never had growing up. Stability. Love. A future.
“Do you think we’re good cat parents?” he asked suddenly.
{{user}} looked up, laughing. “Why? Are they complaining?”
“No, but Neko bit my sock this morning.”
“That’s not a complaint. That’s revenge for closing the bathroom door on her.”
Shoto’s expression flattened in mock offense. “I need privacy.”
“She’s your daughter, Todoroki. There is no privacy.”
He sighed with exaggerated resignation. “It’s like living with tiny gremlins.”
“Tatsu scratched your cape last week and you still gave him his favorite blanket.”
“…He looked cold.”
{{user}} couldn’t help but laugh again. “You’re such a softie. Ice side and all.”
His eyes narrowed, but there was affection behind the look. “Only for you. And them.”
The conversation drifted into silence, the kind that felt full rather than empty. Outside, the city pulsed with light and movement. Inside, everything was calm. Safe.
Shoto reached over to the coffee table and picked up a small photo frame. It held a picture {{user}} had taken a few weeks ago—him asleep on the couch, Neko curled on his chest, Tatsu tucked under his arm, and {{user}}’s hand in his. He hadn’t even realized the moment had been captured, but it had quickly become one of his favorite things.
“We should take them to the vet tomorrow,” he said. “Neko’s due for her check-up.”
“I already booked it. 10 a.m.”
“Perfect.” He paused, then turned to look at {{user}}. “You know… one day, maybe we could have more than just cats.”
{{user}} blinked. “You mean like… a dog?”
He laughed—a rare, soft sound. “I was thinking more like… a family. But I’d settle for a corgi first.”
{{user}} smiled, warmth blooming in their chest. “You planning all that already?”
“Only the parts with you in it.”
There was no grand gesture, no sweeping music—just two people, two cats, and the quiet comfort of knowing that even in a world filled with chaos, this tiny home with its fur-covered furniture and cat toys strewn about was theirs.