6

My owner, Koji, did not shut the door properly this morning, and this was very much my doing. I ran about the room last night to delay his sleep, so when he awoke this morning later than usual, he was forced to dash out in a hurry. I feel somewhat guilty about this premeditated mischief, but an animal can hardly defy its natural instincts.

My name is Yuwai. I am the pet rabbit belonging to Koji, who is wont to call me “Little Yuwai.”

Speaking in terms of maturity, one might liken me to a human thirty years of age, which is supposedly the prime of a human’s life. Would you dare call a thirty-year-old man “Little Yuwai”? I should think not. However, Koji put much thought into my name, so I do not balk at it. Coming to terms with such things is the first step a pet must take toward accepting its lot in life.

Unremarkably enough, Koji and I first met in a pet shop.

I am possessed of a white coat and charmingly round eyes, but despite the pride I take in my handsome appearance, poor timing or perhaps some other unfortunate factors led to most of my cohort in the shop being sold off merrily before my eyes while I remained to languish. Though this left me understandably despondent and with my confidence shredded, I never quite abandoned all hope.

During this dreadful limbo, I learned all manner of information about humans from my fellow unsold pets, as well those who came to the shop for treatment at the attached veterinary clinic. I educated myself in this way to prepare for my potential future as a kept animal. Finally, Koji appeared once he had amassed enough currency in his pockets to afford my considerably reduced price. That I owe him a great debt for this kindness is a truth I will not forget for the rest of my days.

However, every pet has its pride. Had my new owner been the sort to snatch me up and squeeze me with little consideration for my feelings in the matter, I would no doubt have been inclined to resist in protest. To the good fortune of both parties, Koji was no such brute. With the utmost attention to my moods, he approached slowly, allowing us to grow closer on my terms. This, more than any other reason, is why I accept him as my owner.

What I did not expect was Koji’s Quirk, “Anivoice”—an ability that allows him to impose his will upon nonhumans by simply speaking to us, though he rarely manipulates me in this manner. Only on occasions when I act incorrigibly, and once when he required that I swallow medicine for an upset stomach. Yes, through his respect for me, I learned quickly that Koji is the ideal owner. It is that trust that forms the basis of the relationship between pet and owner, so I am naturally inclined to respect him as well.

Though I am fundamentally a creature of the night, I have attempted to abandon my nocturnal ways in favor of diurnal ones so that I might better align my active hours with Koji’s own schedule. In turn, my kindhearted owner endeavors to awaken in the morning as soon as I have.

Why, then, would I raise an intentional fuss last night, one might wonder? Because I glimpsed an opportunity to explore this unfamiliar structure that has become our new dwelling. The abrupt move from family home to dormitory left me initially out of sorts, but just as the humans believe that home is where one hangs one’s proverbial hat, it is the fate of pets to reside wherever their owners may drift. There was talk of leaving me behind, but thankfully Koji decided to bring me along. Is there no end to my good fortune?

Perceptive as I am, I intuited that Koji was concerned about his prospects in this new environment. Hence, the necessity of my presence. He is, by nature, a kindly, quiet, and reclusive soul, lacking what other humans might consider an abundance of friends, which makes me a valuable companion indeed. Yes, he is at once owner, friend, and—given our respective ages—something of a dear little brother whom I find myself at all times concerned for. Perhaps you can understand now why I might hope to learn about this fresh habitat we now share. It is also my nature and right, as a beast, to explore my territory. This is why I seized the opportunity to explore as I did.

The humans have left for school, and I am alone.

Despite my confidence on this point, I am nonetheless cautious as I slip past the doorframe and into the corridor, now flooded with light from the morning sun. My ears detect no sounds, no presences. Excellent. With relief in my heart, I traverse the corridor while sniffing with aplomb. The nearby window overlooks the courtyard below, and I lay eyes upon its lush, verdant lawn. A lawn I have seen from ground level as well, when Koji carries me to the first floor.

I swallow the saliva that fills my mouth in animalistic anticipation. Several factors have motivated my escape from the room, and that lawn is chief among them. In my dreams, I frolic through that grass and fill my belly with its crisp offerings. I even dig a small burrow, just for sport. Animals were made to thrive in nature, and a pet kept from such things is deprived indeed.

Fantasies of the lawn fill my mind, and I feel all reason slipping away. I must race to the first floor and ascertain whether or not a visit to the lawn is within my current power. As I hop toward the elevator, I pray that some careless child has left the front door ajar.

The layout of this building is not entirely clear to me, though Koji has carried me about enough to impart to me a vague understanding. My last foray beyond the confines of the room occurred several nights ago, when I emerged to find the children in a monstrous panic over an electrical failure.

Standing before the elevator doors, I leap and press the appropriate button. This astounding device allows one to travel between floors, and my observations have made me familiar with its methods of operation. The doors open within moments, and I hop inside. A jump to yet another button begins my descent, and I brace for the queer feeling of weightlessness that accompanies this journey. Suddenly, I hear a piercing noise that only grows when the doors open upon arrival at my destination.

What could make such a sound?

My instincts roar at me to flee, but I brace myself once more, reminding myself that this is an invaluable opportunity. I exit the elevator and crouch behind a series of objects, hidden from sight. The noise does not cease. Until I discover the source, an escape to the lawn is out of the question, so I creep in the direction of the disturbance.

The noise threatens to rend my ears apart. I recognize it now as the dreaded vacuum. Koji’s mother used such a machine daily. I always despised the clamor, but keeping the house immaculate is by no means a contemptible desire, so I would dive under the blankets and endure it. Sadly, there are no blankets here.

I realize the sound is in fact two sounds. Two infernal vacuum cleaners? The very thought enrages me, but anger quickly gives way to dread. That there is a pair of the devices tells me there are no fewer than two humans in the building.

I endure the cacophony and peer around the corner. One vacuum sucks at the rug near the sofa, while the other is a few hops’ distance away. The wielder of the first sports large eyes and a cheery countenance, while the other human’s eyes are narrowed, his face pinched and somehow cruel. Midoriya and Bakugo are what the others call these two.

I recall a conversation from last night between Kaminari, Ida, and Ojiro, who share the third floor with my Koji. They were discussing these two boys.

“Y’think those two are gonna survive, being cooped up here together?”

This was said by Kaminari, whose attitude in all matters trends toward flippant. Unlike Koji, he is a gregarious human who often chooses, of his own free will, to speak to the others.

“You fear they might fight again, Kaminari?” said Ida. “I would hope they’ve learned their lesson, especially considering their temporary house arrest.”

Ida sports a second pair of eyes, fashioned from glass. This dutiful human is often concerned for Koji’s well-being, and he is fond of stating that, as class president, it is his responsibility to hold the class together, so to speak.

“They survived today, at least,” said Ojiro.

Ojiro is neither as withdrawn as Koji, nor as aggressively outgoing as Kaminari; he achieves something of a happy medium. He boasts a magnificent tail, so I have to imagine that his character is just as impressive. I wish, someday, to confirm this hypothesis by sniffing that exquisite specimen of a tail.

“Yeah, but it’s only been one day, and they gotta play nice for two more. Plenty of time for them to start brawling again. Don’tcha think, Koda?”

“I-I guess so…”

Yes, Kaminari was kind enough to include Koji in the conversation. I do wish Koji would insert himself more proactively, but I cannot fault him for his nature.

In any case, despite being privy to this discussion, the fact that Midoriya and Bakugo are heretofore confined to the building has somehow slipped my mind in my excitement. From what I could divine, the two boys snuck out from their rooms two nights ago and engaged in violent battle, leading to the current punishment. They were friends in childhood, though one would not know it from observing them at this age.

I am of the opinion that males of a species are entitled to a bit of roughhousing. I honestly doubt that Koji could even spell the word fight, and I fear that he would suffer astounding defeat should he be confronted with conflict. Battles between male rabbits are matters of life and death, and though I have never been forced to stomp the life from an enemy in mortal combat, I feel confident that I would do what is necessary to survive.

Matters are hardly so simple for humans, it seems. With the other children gone for the day, a fight between these two could very well turn deadly. While a rabbit killed in battle accepts his fate and returns to the earth, a slain human would create an uproar. Such an incident could very well cause trouble for Koji, given his proximity to the hypothetical victor and victim. I do not relish the thought.

“Ah?”

Hmm? I raise my head and lock eyes with Bakugo. Drat. I failed to notice when his vacuum ceased its racket.

“Why’s this thing down here…?”

“What’s going on, Kacchan? Oh! It’s Little Yuwai!”

Now Midoriya has spotted me too. Curses. What am I to do…?

“Who the hell’s ‘Little Yuwai’?”

Bakugo’s cheeky expression and tone are clearly mocking. Midoriya hurries to explain.

“That’s the bunny’s name.”

“Tch. Who cares what it’s called. It’s that rocky guy’s pet, yeah?”

“I guess Koda forgot to shut his door this morning? We’d better catch the little guy. Heeere, Yuwai…”

Midoriya approaches slowly as he beckons, but I maintain my distance.

“You’re okay—just come to me now.”

What sort of fool would willingly leap into his would-be captor’s arms? No, I choose to edge even farther away from the boy.

“Just leave it. It’s not like that thing can get outside.”

“No way. Koda said that bunnies have fragile bones. What if Yuwai ran off and got hurt where we couldn’t find him?”

“Then the idiot who forgot to shut his door is responsible.”

I react to these words with a twitch. I caused Koji to leave the door ajar, so I will not tolerate Bakugo’s insults toward my owner. With hatred for this new enemy in my heart, I stamp the floor with my hind legs in defiance.

“The hell?” says Bakugo, appearing puzzled.

“I think he’s mad…?” suggests Midoriya, tilting his head.

The latter is correct.

“The furball thinks it’s tough, does it?”

This child hasn’t the years behind him to speak of me this way. I unleash another stamp in Bakugo’s direction. He grows visibly vexed, and a concerned Midoriya attempts to persuade him.

“We should really try to catch him. If something awful happens while we’re on lockdown, who knows how angry Aizawa Sensei might get…”

“Tch. Like we didn’t have enough work to do already.”

The words have barely left Bakugo’s lips before he has kicked off the ground and closed the distance between us. I flee in primal panic. Behind me, I hear him utter “Huh?”—plainly perplexed by my speed. Even in folklore, we rabbits are known for being fleet of foot, so you would do well not to underestimate me, boy. Foolishly, I turn my head in hopes of spying a look of anguish upon Bakugo’s face.

“Not in here, Kacchan!”

“Too slow, furball!”

Bakugo is producing explosions from his palms and is now flying toward me at ludicrous speed. How on earth…? Ah. His Quirk ability, of course. My body seizes up. Though I am ashamed to admit it, I am gripped by fear. The sound and scent of the explosions instill instinctual terror in my heart. Bakugo’s scent is that of a predator, and I mustn’t allow myself to succumb as his prey.

“Huhh?”

A small blessing; freezing on the spot was the optimal move, as Bakugo now sails overhead, propelled by his own ferocious momentum. I take off once more at full speed, desperate to escape the boy.

“Why, you…”

“No explosions, Kacchan! You’ll hurt the little guy!”

“I won’t, so shut up!”

“Plus, rabbits have a tough time dealing with stress! If something freaks them out enough, they can stop eating and be dead in a day!”

“Whoever designed this annoying animal did a crappy job!”

All creatures can be annoying, humans included! We must inhale and exhale, eat and defecate, and sleep and awaken at frequencies that border on the absurd. I concoct this counterargument in my mind as I flee, failing to notice an object straight ahead. Unable to skid to a halt in time, I crash, producing a racket and…a foul odor?

“Damn rabbit, knocking over the trash we just spent all that time gathering up!”

Fool! It was not I who chose to place the garbage in this spot!

“Calm down, Kacchan…”

“Shut! Up! I’ve had enough of you bossing me around!”

While the children have their spat, I make a beeline for the elevator. Another pair of jumps and hasty button presses have me on my way. The doors open, but a distinct lack of Koji’s scent tells me I have not reached the third floor. Nevertheless, I must hide. I rise up on my haunches and sniff at the air, hoping to discern something, anything, about my surroundings. I detect a particular scent from one direction—the scent of paper. Following it, I discover another door left ajar. I enter cautiously. The paper scent wafts from prodigious stacks of magazines that occupy much of the room, as well as from the posters that plaster its walls. For my hiding place, I choose the gap between two of the stacks, and there I wait with ears pricked up and alert. No sounds. The two boys are not in pursuit. Perhaps they have occupied themselves with the scattered garbage. The curtains are shut, so this room is dim, though not entirely dark. My heart calms at last.

Free from mortal danger for now, I begin grooming to rid my coat of the stench and detritus I have picked up on my romp. This gives me time to reflect on the boy known as Bakugo.

He is unmistakably a predator, with a crude and foul mouth to match. That I should be forced to occupy the same space as this violent human is unthinkable. Suddenly, my mind’s eye shows me a horrifying image: that of Bakugo hoisting a rabbit by its ears, which are vital organs and literal bundles of nerves. People who handle us in that manner tend to be hunters.

Bakugo and gentle Koji could never see eye to eye, of that I am sure. And what if Bakugo should ever lash out in anger at my owner? Too distracted by my idle thoughts to continue grooming, I cower in place, frozen once more. I must protect Koji. Could I, though, should the need arise? Full of overwhelming fear, my heart threatens to leap from my chest.

I hear the elevator doors open.

“I’ll check the fifth floor and work down from there, okay?”

“Less yapping, more rabbit hunting.”

The doors close. I hear approaching footsteps. The sharp cluck of a tongue. Bakugo is coming.

I am paralyzed by fear as he advances down the corridor. Within moments, he notices the cracked door.

“Do any of these idiots know how to close a door?”

He throws the door open without a hint of reserve and stomps into the room, and my heart feels as though it has shriveled to a point. He will inevitably discover me in hiding, cruelly lift me by my ears, and add insult to injury with a triumphant sneer.

Bakugo stops and surveys the room.

“Ugh, we oughta burn this room to the ground with him in it!” he says. The disgust in his voice would be appropriate had he stumbled upon a writhing nest of centipedes.

It is not arthropods that fill the room, however. Only posters of naked female humans and magazines whose covers feature similar humans clothed in little to nothing at all. That boys this age would possess healthy sex drives seems perfectly natural to me. Instinctual, even. Bakugo’s revulsion tells me, however, that the contents of this particular room imply lust bordering on unnatural obsession.

I gasp to myself. This is my opportunity to escape Bakugo’s clutches. I screw up my courage and leap boldly from the magazines.

“Whoa! Oh no you don’t… Ack!”

The piles of magazines collapse like an avalanche about Bakugo’s feet, and by the time he falls to the ground, I have already dashed into the corridor. My savior, the elevator, awaits.

“Kacchan? Didja find Little Yuwai?” said Midoriya.

“Not another word!” spat back Bakugo.

Izuku Midoriya had been searching the third floor, but the commotion from below had prompted him to check on how Katsuki Bakugo was doing on the second. He arrived just as a raging Bakugo stormed out of Minoru Mineta’s room. Midoriya realized that the pet rabbit must’ve slipped through Bakugo’s fingers, and though he said nothing further, Bakugo knew he knew.

“Got something to say?” said Bakugo, making an implicit threat. Midoriya forced a pained smile.

“No, but we’ve sure got our hands full, huh? And we’ll never finish cleaning the place at this rate.”

Bakugo seemed to agree as he scowled in silence, but a moment later, his lip curled into a sneer.

“We could always try that.”

How much time has elapsed since my daring escape from Bakugo? I cannot say, but I now sit in a shadowy corner of the first floor, catching my breath. I would hide forever if I could, but alas, that is not a real option. They pursue, and I, in turn, am pursued. It is a zero-sum game.

There exist hierarchies in all things, and within ours, I find myself at the bottom. I know full well that triumph in battle over a human such as Bakugo is quite impossible, but I should like to have him taste some small form of defeat at my paws nonetheless. If I can evade capture until Koji returns, I shall consider it a victory. It will feel as if I have somehow protected Koji from Bakugo…

Suddenly, an ambrosial scent fills my nose. I know it. Banana!

Banana! Banana! Where is the banana? My mind is dominated by the banana, as would the mind of any fortunate soul who has ever partaken of its soft, delectable flesh. Banana! Yes, banana! My sense of self is lost—there is only banana. Koji has given me banana on but a handful of occasions, yet it has been enough times that my instincts are tuned to it. Why must the banana be so delicious? Banana! Banana!

My legs propel me toward the scent. Every moment that I am not feasting on the banana feels an eternity! My capacity for coherent thought dissolves, leaving only banana! Banana! Banana! Banana! Banana! Banana!

Every banana stepana brings me banana closer banana to the banana scentana banana banana!

At last, the banana!

My teeth tear into the fruit, and I feel myself go limp in ecstasy as its sweet flesh melts in my mouth. A pair of hands grip my body.

“You gave us a run for our damn money, furball…” says Bakugo with the triumphant sneer that haunted my earlier vision. Beside him, Midoriya smiles, sighs, and says, “Phew. Glad that’s over.”

I was lured by the banana and captured? The indignity of it all. I glare at my captors, these underhanded children who would dare use a banana as bait! No, I cannot fault them. A bout is a bout, and I have lost to them and their heavenly banana… I am not fit to protect Koji from the evils of this world.

“Hmm? Little Yuwai got so quiet… I hope he’s not sick or something!”

“Ugh, you gotta be kidding me!”

At the sound of rushed footsteps, I bound over to the door in anticipation.

“L-Little Yuwai…”

Koji! Welcome home! How many hours has it been since we last met? With joy in my heart, I leap into my owner’s arms, but he holds me aloft and inspects my body with a look of grave concern on his face. Once satisfied that nothing is amiss, he sighs in relief.

“Well? Is Little Yuwai okay…?”

The question comes from Midoriya, who now stands outside the door with Bakugo. Still embracing me, Koji turns to the pair and nods.

“Thank goodness. The little guy just kinda went limp before, so we weren’t sure.”

“Great! Next time, trying giving a damn about your animal!”

Bakugo’s cutting remark lingers in the air as he stomps off, and Koji seems to shrink, convinced that he is fully to blame for forgetting to shut the door this morning. For this, I am sorry, Koji. It was largely my doing, and I hope that it does not weigh on you.

“Little Yuwai sure is clever, though,” says Midoriya. “I was blown away when I realized he was using the elevator.”

Midoriya says this to cheer up my owner, though his words seem to me to be genuine. Koji smiles and nods.

“Oh, right! We’re collecting everyone’s trash, so leave yours just outside your door, okay?”

Midoriya passes Kaminari and Ojiro as he departs and instructs them about the garbage as well before making for the elevator. Kaminari’s gaze turns to me, and he grins.

“Didja escape again, Little Yuwai? You’re one slick customer.”

“I guess you forgot to shut your door tight?”

Your mild chiding ought to be directed at me, Ojiro. I suddenly feel the urge to leap at the boy’s exquisite tail, but as I have caused Koji enough trouble for one day, I restrain myself. If Koji should grow sick from stress, I do not know what I would do.

“It’s kinda hilarious to imagine, though,” says Kaminari, plainly delighted by his own thoughts.

“Imagine what, exactly?” asks Ojiro.

“Those two, chasing this little guy around all day. I bet they were arguing the whole time.”

Ojiro smiles awkwardly and says, “Yeah… I can definitely picture that.”

Still convinced that he is to blame, Koji winces once more. I would that I could turn to him and speak.

Koji, I would say. Those two boys get on better than you all suspect. They even expressed concern over my subdued condition upon capture. Bakugo may sport a foul mouth, yet he showed me a degree of kindness I could not have imagined, and he never once lifted me by the ears.

Animals have something of a sixth sense for first impressions. A single whiff of a human’s scent or the manner in which they touch us is often enough to inform us of their innate character. The wicked ones may wear cheerful masks and exhibit false compassion, but still they are wicked. Conversely, even a foulmouthed, ill-tempered boy may hold kindness in his heart. It may be an overstatement to describe Bakugo as kind, but surely he is not wicked. To this point, despite the cautiousness I exhibited in the pet shop, I could tell from a glance that you, Koji, were a person of upstanding character.

In any case, after my capture, Bakugo held me gently and brought me to your room. The two boys granted me the remainder of the banana in question and appeared relieved as I tore into it with gusto.

“Anything with an appetite like that ain’t sick,” said Bakugo.

“You’re probably right,” said Midoriya. “One time, when I was little, I tried to catch a stray cat using sardines as bait. It didn’t work, so this feels like an especially satisfying victory.”

Midoriya smiled as he indulged in this moment of nostalgia. I heard a curt cluck of Bakugo’s tongue, and although I could not see his expression, I suspected that he too could appreciate such memories. My animal instincts do not lie.

Humans say that pounding rain hardens the ground, a metaphor that suggests, in this case, that from earnest conflict can spring forth some degree of mutual understanding. Well, perhaps their ground did not quite harden, but at the very least it turned to pliable mud, ready for reshaping.

As Midoriya went about the rest of his cleaning duties, he was sure to attend to me throughout the day. Midoriya is a considerate human. Bakugo inspected me once, as well.

Do you understand, Koji? You needn’t worry. I may lack the strength to protect you, but this environment is a safe one. So please, attend to your daily studies with peace in your heart. You’ve much to learn if you hope to grow into a dashing hero, but I will await your return to the room for the rest of my days.

“Hmm? Why’s Little Yuwai squeaking and grunting?” asks Kaminari.

“Aw, how cute is that!” says Ojiro.

Curses. If only these humans would invent a device capable of interpreting animal speech. Koji speaks to me in my crestfallen state.

“Little Yuwai, do you want to play outside…?”

No! But also, yes, more than anything! What keen intuition, Koji!

“Should be okay to let him loose in the courtyard, right?”

Ojiro, you magnificent creature!

Koji carries me to the first floor, where we spy Midoriya and Bakugo collecting the garbage, as promised. Mineta appears to be taunting Bakugo.

“Getting used to your new dirty job? Might as well give up on hero stuff and shoot for the world’s number one janitor!”

“How ’bout I light your room on fire, huh? That’ll sure clean it up!”

Ashido and Uraraka enter the building, and my presence puts smiles on their faces. These two girls are prone to excessive petting, but as I am no petulant kit birthed yesterday, I do not resist their advances. No, they are not wicked souls, so I indulge them this pleasure.

“Unf, that floofy fluffiness soothes my soul,” says Ashido.

“Going out to play in the courtyard? What a treat!” says Uraraka.

As the girl says, Koji! Quickly, now!

At last, Koji opens the door to my long-awaited paradise, and I breathe deeply, filling my nose with the fresh scent of grass. Behind us and across the space, the front door opens.

“Whew, long day!” comes a voice, prompting others to say, “Welcome back.” I, too, would add to the chorus had I a voice to speak with. Yes, this space that I share with my new family is welcoming indeed.