The bell above the door chimed as you stepped into the hybrid adoption center, the air filled with a mix of soft music, disinfectant, and the muted sounds of creatures shifting in their enclosures. Rows of kennels lined the walls—fox hybrids curled in blankets, bird hybrids perched on swings, cat hybrids blinking lazily at passersby. The staff walked visitors through like it was a boutique rather than a shelter.

A sign read: “Companion-Class Hybrids — Certified, Trained, Safe.”

Your chest tightened. Companion, not person.

You walked slowly, eyes scanning faces that all looked somewhere between hopeful and resigned, until the very last kennel at the back caught your attention.

A small, green-furred puppy hybrid sat pressed against the corner—ears too big, tail curled tight around himself. His hair was a fluffy mess of emerald curls, the same shade as the fur on his ears and the patch on his tail. He held a worn blanket in his hands, twisting the edges anxiously. His eyes—wide, golden-green—lifted when he sensed someone approach.

He froze.

Then his tail thumped once.

Then stopped, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

You crouched down. “Hi there…”

He blinked, shoulders trembling slightly as he leaned forward on instinct, sniffing the air. His nose twitched. Then he offered a nervous, polite wag of the tail—tiny, careful.

You smiled. “You’re adorable.”

He immediately jerked back, ears flattening, cheeks going bright red beneath the fur. “S–S-Sorry! I—I’m not supposed to… um… approach without permission,” he stammered, voice soft and breathy. “I’m trained. I promise.”

Your heart cracked a little.

Before you could ask anything, a worker appeared beside you with a clipboard.

“Ah, you found Midoriya.” She knelt beside you. “He’s a sweet one, just… very anxious. Puppy hybrids usually are. He tries really hard, though. He wants to please more than most.”

Midoriya squirmed, clearly embarrassed.

The worker continued, “He’s been returned twice. Too timid, too skittish. Needs someone patient.”

Your eyes flicked back to him. He peeked up at you through his curls, ears perked just slightly, silently begging for a chance he didn’t dare ask for.

You softened. “Can I go inside?”

He stiffened completely, tail frozen mid-wag.

“S–She wants t-to—to meet me?” he whispered, stunned.

The worker unlocked the gate. Midoriya instantly straightened, back straight, hands at his sides, like he’d been trained to perform for potential adopters.

But the moment the door clicked open, he took one hesitant step toward you, head lowered submissively, then another. When he reached you, he leaned forward and gently nudged his forehead against your hand.

You brushed your fingers through his curls, and the reaction was instant—his tail wagged so fast it swished like a fan, his entire body leaning into the touch as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Good boy,” you whispered instinctively.

His knees buckled and he sank against you, face buried into your shoulder as the tiniest whine escaped him—relief, affection, need, all tangled together.

“S–Sorry!” he yelped, pulling back. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—sometimes m-my instincts—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed softly. “I meant it.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, glossy with disbelief.

“You… want me?” he asked quietly, voice trembling like he expected you to laugh in his face.

You reached out and took his hand—warm, calloused, trembling—and squeezed once.

“I want you,” you said. “If you’ll come home with me.”

His ears shot straight up. His tail wagged so hard he nearly knocked himself over. He pressed his face into your palm, scenting you in shaky, affectionate nuzzles.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Please. Please… I’ll be good. I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hugged him, and he whimpered at the warmth, clutching your shirt gently so as not to tear it with nervous claws.

For the first time in his life, someone chose him. Not as a pet. Not as property. But because they saw him.

And Midoriya looked up at you with the softest, brightest expression—a timid, hopeful smile meant only for you.