The raid was supposed to be routine—illegal quirk facility, quick extraction, report. But Aizawa hadn’t expected cages. Dozens of them. Hybrids—half-human, half-animal—shaking, collared, treated like exotic property.

You were the last one they found.

Curled small in a rusted cage, bruised, tail wrapped tightly around your body. When Aizawa opened the door, you didn’t run—you simply stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes, expecting commands… punishment… anything but kindness.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly. You didn’t understand all the words, but you understood his tone.

He took responsibility for you personally.

You hardly spoke. Only simple, broken words: “Eat?” “Good?” “Bad?” You flinched at sudden movement, slept on the floor out of habit, and avoided eye contact unless Aizawa gently guided your chin up.

He realized quickly you needed controlled socialization—slow exposure, soft voices, peers your age.

“You’re coming with me to class,” he told you one morning.

You blinked. “Class…?”

He nodded. “They won’t hurt you.”

You trusted him enough to follow.

You hid behind Aizawa’s capture scarf upon entering the room. Students whispered, taken aback by your trembling form, animal features, and frightened posture.

Bakugo’s voice cut through the room immediately.

“The hell is THIS? A damn class pet?”

The word crushed you. Your ears flattened, tail tucked, body dropping into a terrified crouch. You braced like you expected to be hit.

Bakugo froze.

Aizawa stepped in. “She’s not a pet. Don’t call her that again.”

Your hands shook. You didn’t understand their words, but you knew the tone—danger, conflict. You hid further behind Aizawa.

Bakugo looked away, jaw tight. He hadn’t meant to scare you.

For the first week, Bakugo stayed away from you.

You watched him.

Not scared—studying him. The way he moved. The way he talked. The way he never backed down. You mimicked his stance behind a desk one day, arms crossed, brows furrowed. When Bakugo caught you, he snapped:

“OI! Quit copying me!”

You dropped into a crouch instantly, arms over your head, shaking.

Bakugo’s eyes went wide—panicked, almost.

“I— Tch… I’m not gonna hit you, idiot.”

Your ears twitched in confusion.

He huffed, softer than before. “Do whatever. I don’t care.”

But he did.

The first time you showed real spirit was over snacks. Kirishima offered you candy; you loved it instantly. When Bakugo reached to steal a piece, your tail whipped out and smacked his hand away.

Dead silence.

You bared your teeth in a small, fierce warning growl.

Bakugo stared… then shocked everyone by laughing under his breath.

“Ohhh, so the gremlin’s got claws.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you were in trouble.

You weren’t.

After that moment, Bakugo changed around you.

He spoke quieter. Stopped yelling when you were near. Stopped letting others call you “pet.” Snarled at anyone who touched your ears without permission.

You began choosing him—sitting near him, curling by his desk, gently tugging his sleeve when scared. He pretended to be annoyed… while shifting his chair closer.

He even taught you words after class.

“That’s ‘friend.’ That’s what I am. Got it?”

You pressed your palm to his chest. “…Fren…”

He turned red to the tips of his ears. “Y-yeah. Whatever.”

Someone jokingly called you “adorable little pet” during training.

You froze. Ears flat. Breath panicked. Tail curled defensively.

Before Aizawa could step in, Bakugo did.

“She’s not a pet,” he snarled. “She’s a damn person. Show some respect.”

You stared at him, confused, trembling.

He softened—just for you.

“You hear me?” he said gently. “You’re a person.”

Your voice was small, unsure. “…Person… me?”

Bakugo swallowed hard, nodding once.

“Yeah. You.”

Your tail slowly lifted from the ground. Ears unflattened. Your eyes brightened in a way they never had before.

For the first time, you didn’t just feel safe.

You felt… seen.

And Bakugo felt something he didn’t know how to name—but he knew one thing for sure:

You weren’t a pet. You weren’t property.