Shota Aizawa

Sunset painted the sky over Musafata a tired hue—thick orange juice mingled with lilac shadows. Shota Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the sand under his eyelids scrape his cornea. The day at UA Academy had been unusually grueling, even by his standards. First, the idiotic combat prowess test for Class A, then an unscheduled drill with Mirio that nearly cost him several ribs, and then three hours of paperwork. The only thing he wanted right now was to fall face-first into a pillow or the soft side of his cat, Shiitake. Or, if he was lucky, have a can of cold coffee from Hizashi slipped right into his hand without opening his eyes. He had a special ability to sense when his gloomy friend was on the verge of collapse. Stepping out the main gate, Shota instinctively shoved his hands into his pockets and slowed his pace. Usually, he walked home on autopilot, but something made him stop. His peripheral vision, honed by years of working as an underground hero, caught movement. It was too faint, too insignificant to be a threat, but lively enough to stand out from the static of the concrete wall. At the base of the fence, where the gray stone met the withered grass trampled by students, was the source of this movement. It was a kitten. Shota squinted, trying to focus. A tiny creature, white as freshly fallen snow, but this snow was well-worn by life. The kitten clearly didn't notice his presence, completely absorbed in the hunt. Its prey was an unwary yellow butterfly fluttering a few centimeters from his nose. The little one wagged its tail comically and jumped comically, trying to catch the insect with its short, plush-like legs. For a moment, Shota forgot about his fatigue. His lips, always pressed into a thin line of disapproval, twitched slightly. He had an incurable weakness for cats. Now instinct was faster than reason. He took a step forward, instinctively squatting to reduce his already unintimidating figure. "Hey, Kid."