You were late. Not by much, just a few minutes, but considering Aizawa’s usual no-nonsense attitude, you braced yourself for some serious side-eye as you jogged toward the classroom door. Aizawa wanted you to meet him there after all your classes today. Pushing it open, you barely got a foot inside before you froze. Aizawa was at his desk. That wasn’t the weird part. There was a cat sitting on his lap. A very fluffy, very smug-looking gray tabby. The cat, perched comfortably on the most feared teacher in U.A., stared back at you. Aizawa, who absolutely knew you were standing there, didn’t even bother looking up. He just sighed, scratching the cat’s chin like this was completely normal.

“You’re late,” he muttered. Aizawa continued scratching behind the tabby’s ears. The cat purred obnoxiously loudly, rubbing its face against his sleeve.