marisod

Chapter 1: I Won't Hurt You

AO3 Link Laika had always been different.

She shouldn’t complain, really.

Sure, she was taller than most, her features a little off from what people expected. But it wasn’t as if she were some strange mix of predator and prey, torn between instincts that didn’t belong together. No, she had it easy in comparison.

But people noticed things.

"Why is your tail so long?"

"Why is your nose so big?"

"You’re so tall for a caracal."

The questions were never malicious, not exactly. Just idle curiosities, casual observations that never seemed to fade. In a town as small as Crestville, there was no escaping them. She was different, and once people noticed, they never let themselves forget.

Larger carnivores saw her as weak.

Smaller herbivores saw her as dangerous.

She’d grown used to the looks, the whispered speculation, the awkward hesitation in conversations. But that didn’t mean she liked it.

Moving to Cherryton City was the first real choice she’d made for herself—the first step toward a life where she could breathe. It wasn’t quite home, but there was a comfort in the anonymity of a city this large. Here, she could disappear into the crowd, just another face among millions.

The moment she’d stepped off the train, dragging her suitcase behind her, she felt it—freedom. Her mother had warned her against moving. “It’s dangerous,” she had said, her voice clipped with disapproval. “You don’t belong in a place like that.” But Laika was 25 now, more than old enough to make her own choices, and she wasn’t going to live in her mother’s small clinic forever.

Her apartment was nothing special—a one-bedroom in a complex that smelled faintly of damp carpet, cigarettes and fried oil. But it was hers. She spent her days wandering the city, drinking in its sights, its people, its pulse. She took a job at a small café, earning just enough to pay rent and indulge in the occasional pastry. On the side, she studied programming, learning just enough to satisfy her curiosity, not the least her ambitions for a decent future.

She was happy.

Or so she told herself. 

It was for the best. That leaving behind the quiet predictability of Crestville would help her finally be… herself. Whatever that meant. Yet, after weeks of wandering the streets of Cherryton City, weaving through crowds of beasts that never looked twice at her, she was starting to wonder if this was just another mistake.  

It was why she found herself here—sitting at the counter of a dimly lit bar, swirling the last sip of her drink in its glass. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but she figured a night out wouldn’t hurt. New city, new people, new opportunities. It was worth a shot.  

“You’re really hot for a caracal.”  

The voice was smooth, self-assured.  

Laika turned her head to find a black panther leaning against the counter beside her, watching her through slitted eyes. He looked tall, sleek, his coat glossy under the bar lights. 

His smile was all sharp teeth.  

“I mean,” the panther continued, swirling his drink lazily, “Most caracals are cute. But you? You’re something else, like you got this edge, know what I mean? It’s kinda exciting.”  

Laika’s ear twitched, and she set her glass down with a little too much force.  

There it was again. 

He probably thought it was a compliment, but all she heard was you’re attractive, but only because you don’t look fully caracal. Because all other caracals aren’t attractive enough.

“Wow, you’re really observant,” she said, voice cool, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.  

The panther grinned, leaning in as if he’d scored a point. “So, do I get to—”  

“No.”  

She slid off the stool, leaving a few bills on the counter before pushing past him and heading for the door.  

You’re really hot for a caracal.

Laika felt her stomach turn.  

As if half of her didn’t count. As if the entire species was just… cute .  

She shouldn’t have expected it to be easy.  

Outside, the city air was thick with the scent of rain and distant street food. She inhaled deeply, shoving her hands into her pockets.  

“This is pointless…” Laika muttered to herself. “You don’t need anyone.“

Caracals were solitary by nature. They didn’t form prides or packs, didn’t long for the company of others the way some species did. It was just the way things were.  

But Laika wasn’t just a caracal.  

She had spent her entire life pretending that she didn’t care about the way people looked at her, that she didn’t notice how they hesitated, how they picked her apart with their eyes and their words. She had convinced herself that solitude was a choice. That it was fine.  

It was fine.  

And yet, something in her resisted the thought.  

Because as much as she tried to play the part of the independent loner, her other half—the part she barely acknowledged—craved more. Longed for something she couldn’t quite name.  

She exhaled sharply.  

Maybe next time would be different.  

The next day, Laika decided tried again. 

Nothing extravagant—just a quiet walk, a casual dinner, maybe even an impulsive stop at the small bookstore she had passed on her way home from work. A chance to exist among others, if nothing else. 

She had just finished worked. Taken a shower, trimmed her pelt, and was on her way out for the evening.

But first, the elevator.  

Laika pressed the button for the ground floor, shifting her weight onto one foot as she waited. The dull swoop of the lift descending filled the air. When the doors finally slid open, she stepped inside, pressing herself into the corner as the doors began to close again.  

A hand shot between the doors, stopping them with ease.  

Laika tensed as they slid open once more, revealing the two figures standing just beyond them.  

Her breath caught.  

A towering figure stepped in with a slow, confident stride. Dark fur, darker mane, broad shoulders wrapped in a fitted black coat, and spots freckling under his eyes. He was young—probably not much older than her—but there was something about the way he carried himself that put her on edge.  

He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who owned every space he walked into. 

The second followed a moment later, this one with a slicked-back mane and a smirk that didn’t quite reach his clouded eyes. He leaned casually against the side of the elevator, sizing her up in a way that made her skin prickle.  

Laika instinctively stepped back, her back colliding into the wall behind her.

She felt her pulse quicken.  

Lions.

Lions are one of caracals’ apex predators. 

Instinct told her to stay still. To avoid eye contact. To shrink herself down, even though she was tall for a caracal. But she wasn’t just a caracal, was she? 

There was no sensible reason to be afraid.  

She knew that. 

This was a city, not the wild. There were laws. There were rules.  

Yet, they were stronger. They were taller. And right now, they outnumbered her. Caged her in between them.

The doors slid shut.  

Silence.  

The first lion—the one with dark coat—leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. She felt his gaze on her, her fur standing on the end.

The other one clicked his tongue, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “Damn. Elevators always make me feel like I’m about to be buried alive.”  

His friend hummed in agreement but didn’t speak.  

Laika swallowed, willing her body to stay relaxed. 

Ten… nine… eight…  

The one with the dark mane exchanged a glance with the other lion before looking back at her. “You live here?”  

Laika hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.” It would be stupid to lie. They probably saw her lock her door.

“Huh,” the slick-maned one mused, rolling his shoulder. “Didn’t take you for the type to live in a place like this.”  

She frowned at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“Relax, relax.” His smirk widened. “Just making conversation.”  

The tension in the elevator was suffocating.  

The elevator continued its descent.  

Her eyes flicked to the numbers descending above the doors. 

Five… four… three.

She reached for the panel, pressing the number ‘2’ just to get out early. The numbers above the door slowed.

The moment it stopped, she took a step forward, ready to slip out early and take the stairs the rest of the way down.  

A sharp motion—a dark-furred hand around her wrist, a twist of muscle and force. Before she could react, the lion was behind her, an arm locking around her waist, lifting her off her feet.  

Panic slammed through her like a shock of ice.  

“What the—? Let go of me!”  

She struggled, twisting, kicking, but the grip remained strong. 

The elevator doors opened onto an empty floor.  

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he gritted out, his hot breath piercing her ear.  

Laika snarled, as she swung at him, claws barely missing his face. The slick-maned one clicked his tongue in amusement.  

“Damn. Feisty little thing, huh?”  

“Just hurry it up already!”  

Laika twisted again, her breath coming in sharp gasps. 

No. No, no, no…

She snarled, her instincts kicking in, but they were stronger. Bigger. 

She sunk her teeth into his arm, piercing his coat until she tasted iron.

“AGH– FUCK! The bitch— fucking bit me! ”

A shrill laughter cut through the air. 

Laika barely had time to process before something sharp jabbed into her neck.  

The world tilted. The fluorescent lights above blurred into streaks. She gasped, her body going limp. The last thing she saw was the two dark and light figures looking down at her.

Pain. A dull, throbbing ache behind her eyes. Laika’s senses crawled back to her one at a time—the rough fabric of a sack over her head, the bite of tight ropes around her wrists, the low growl of voices speaking just beyond her reach. The air smelled of musk, smoke, and iron, a heady mixture that made her stomach turn.

Her pulse pounded. Where was she? What happened?

She forced herself to remain still, listening. The voices were deep, some gruff, others smoother, but all of them carried an edge. There was tension in the air, an argument simmering beneath their words.

"....boss….his will…." A deep voice cut through the murmur of conversation.

Another voice scoffed. “Boss?....not even a…hybrid...”

“She’s his blood, and she’s here now.”

Laika stiffened. They were talking about her?

A third voice—one she somehow recognised. “You want us to take orders from a kitten? Get outta here, Ibuki!”

“It’s either her , merging, or dismantlement. Do I need to remind you what happened to the Toragumi?”

Silence followed. 

Heavy, loaded silence.

Then, another voice—rough, skeptical. “And you think she’s fit to lead? She doesn’t even know what we do.”

“She can learn,” the authoritative voice—Ibuki, she realized—argued. “And we don’t have another choice.”

Laika’s breathing hitched. What the hell were they talking about? His blood? Take orders? She struggled against the ropes binding her wrists, feeling her pulse hammering against them. The slight rustle of movement must have caught their attention because the voices stopped.

“Ah,” Ibuki said, his voice calm but alert. “She’s awake.”

Footsteps approached. The sack was ripped from her head. Harsh light flooded her vision, forcing her to blink rapidly. The faces before her swam into focus—lions.

A dozen of them eyeing here right then and there.

They surrounded her in a semi-circle, their towering forms casting imposing shadows across the dimly lit room.  

Served on a dinner plate.

The one who had removed the bag loomed closest, his golden mane framing his strong features, glasses glinting over narrowed eyes.

Her gaze darted around the room. It was a large, dimly lit chamber, the furniture sparse and functional. No windows. No obvious exits. A meeting room? A den?

A chair scraped against the floor as Ibuki took a seat across from her.  “Good evening, Miss Malaika,” he said smoothly. “Welcome to the Shishigumi. I imagine you have a lot of questions.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, voice hoarse.

Ibuki ignored her outburst, turning to the others. “She’s awake now. You can see for yourselves.”

The lions exchanged glances. The one who had been the most vocal in protest—one a large X-shaped scar between his eyes—crossed his arms. “She doesn’t look like a boss to me.”

“No offense, kid,” another bulky one with dreadlocks added with a smirk. “But we were expecting someone a little more… lion.”

"L-look, man," Laika started, her gaze glancing frantically between the lions around her. " I don't know who you are, but I haven't done anything, and I don't know shit, so–"

Ibuki held up a hand, silencing her. His eyes narrowed further two mere slits behind his glasses as he studied her. She squirmed, though with her bound to a chair, there was no way to hide.

"You're not in a position to make demands, little cat," he said finally, and slowly stood up from his seat.

He circled the chair slowly, his footsteps deliberate and measured. The other lions watched him, their eyes following his movements.

Ibuki stopped in front of her, looming. She could feel the dangerous heat radiating off him, and he reeked of the same stench that filled the room.

"You are Malaika, aren't you?" he asked, his tone conversational, almost gentle. "The Chief's heir. Which makes you our problem now."

Laika stared at them, trying to process. “Chief’s… What?” she repeated, her voice shaking more than she’d like. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

How did they know her name?

How did they know her at all?

“Playing dumb won’t work, ya know.” One lion spoke up —the one with slicked-back mane—the one who kidnapped her.

He stepped forward.

Laika flinched as he reached for her. “Don’t–”

He grabbed her chin with a rough, careless grip with his claws digging into her skin, and twisted her face up. “Not bad lookin’, is she? For a little kitty–”

“Free. ” Ibuki shot the smirking lion a sharp look, silencing him with a mere glare. 

The smirking lion—Free?—shrugged, releasing Laika and stepping away. Ibuki turned his attention back to her.

"Don't play coy, little one," Ibuki said, his voice a low rumble. "We know who you are. Or rather, who you're supposed to be." He leaned in closer, his pungent breath hot against her face. "The Chief's successor. The one chosen to lead us after he's gone."

Laika's eyes widened. She jolted, rope scratching against her wrists.

"We're not here to hurt you," Ibuki said, straightening up while adjusting his tie. "Not unless you give us a reason to." He began to pace around the chair again, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the room. "You're not the first choice for this position, but you're the one the Chief wanted. And until we decide otherwise, that's enough for us."

He paused, looking down at her over the rim of his glasses. "So here's how this is going to work. You're going to listen, and you're going to learn. You're going to do as we say, when we say it." He leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "And if you do that, you might even live long enough to see what it means to be the boss."

Around them, the lions watched, their eyes glinting in the shadows. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their expectations and the uncertainty of the future hanging heavy over them all.

Laika stared at him, her mind reeling with the implication of his words. "I… What? I-I can't–”

"You can, and you will," he said firmly. "The Chief chose you for a reason, little cat. It's up to us to determine if you're worthy of his legacy." He leaned in closer, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair. Caging her in. "But make no mistake, if you can't handle this, if you can't step up and lead when it matters, then you're no use to us. And we have ways of dealing with those who are no use."

The other lions shifted, their postures tightening. She could’ve sworn one even licked his maw. The air was thick with the weight of their anticipation, the unspoken threat hanging heavy over her.

Ibuki's gaze never left Laika’s face, watching for every flicker of emotion, every hint of weakness. "So what's it going to be, Miss Malaika?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Are you going to make this harder for yourself than it needs to be?"

Laika finally snapped. "I'm not trying to be! I don’t know who you are or who my father is! I didn't ask for this! I have a life! I don't know the first thing about leading a– a fucking lion pride mafia or whatever the hell you are!"

Free snorted, shaking his head. "Listen to her. A fucking lion pride mafia! " he mocked, his voice higher-pitched at the end before returning normal. “I mean, she got us pegged, not gonna lie."

Ibuki's eyes flashed with a flicker of anger at her outburst, but he maintained his composure. "You think that matters?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You think any of us asked for the lives we've been dealt? The Chief didn't ask to be a leader, either, but he made something of himself. He built this organisation from nothing. And he chose you to take it over. So don't tell me you have a life. Your life is here now."

The dark-furred lion—her other kidnapper—glanced away, unable to meet her gaze, but the others watched, waiting.

Laika tensed, her hands clenching into fists behind her back. She hated the way they were looking at her, as if sizing up a piece of meat, "I–I have a home. A job—"

Ibuki's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the armrests until the wood creaked under his fingers. "A home? A job?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You think those things matter now? You're the Chief's successor, not some soft little housecat playing at being normal." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her face as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Not anymore. Your old life is gone. This is your life now. Us. The Shishigumi."

Laika’s hackles rose, anger and fear warring within her. She was painfully aware of how outnumbered she was, and how powerless she was to escape. But her pride flared.

"And if I refuse?" she said, her voice a low growl.

The room fell silent once more, the other lions watching with bated breath to see how their leader would respond.

Slowly, deliberately, Ibuki pushed himself off the chair. He took a step back, then another, his gaze never leaving Laika’s face. When he spoke, his voice was low and cold, each word dripping with menace. "If you refuse... then you leave us no choice but to treat you like the enemy. And trust me, little cat, you do not want to see what happens to our enemies."

Laika’s ears lowered, the weight of his words crashing down on her like a wave. She knew it was true. There was no escaping this. Her other options… Death? Getting eaten? Both?

"I... I need my phone," she whispered. "I need to call my mom."

Ibuki paused, looking slightly taken aback—the most normal emotion she had seen from him by far. He glanced at Dolph, who shrugged, his expression unreadable.

After a long, tense moment, Ibuki sighed, running a hand over his face. "Fine," he said at last. "You can call your mother." He nodded to the scarred-faced lion. "Dolph, give her a phone."

Dolph reached into his pocket and tossed it carelessly towards her. It hit the ground with a soft thud, the phone bouncing once before coming to rest inches from her feet. It was a burner phone, cheap and disposable, not at all like the sleek smartphone she personally owned.

"Make it quick," Ibuki warned, his gaze hard. Laika glared down at the phone, then up at Dolph. "Can you cut me loose? My hands are a bit tied up."

Dolph glanced at Ibuki, who gave a slight nod. He then stepped forward and knelt down, a knife appearing in his hand. The blade flashed as he cut the rope, freeing her from the chair.

Laika rubbed at her chafed wrists, indentations on her fur already visible. She leaned down and snatched her phone off the floor. The time read 01:37. Her mother would definitely be asleep.

She quickly dialed the number. Thankfully, she had it memorised.

The line rang once, twice, three times. Laika’s heart raced as she waited, the seconds feeling like an eternity.

Finally, her mother picked up. "Hello?" Her voice was sleep-roughened on the other end of the line.

"Mo-om," Laika said, her own voice cracking. "It's me."

There was a pause, the sound of rustling fabric and a bed creaking as her mother sat up. "Lulu? Is everything alright? It's so late, why are you calling now?"

The sound of her nickname made her heart lurch. Laika swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Mom... I... I can't explain everything right now. But I need you to listen to me." She glanced up at Ibuki, who watched her intently, his expression unreadable. "I have to go away for a while. For work." It was a half-truth, and she hated lying to her mother, but she didn't know how to begin to explain the reality of her situation.

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before her mother responded, "Go away? What do you mean, go away? Laika, what's going on?" Her voice rose in pitch, the concern morphing into alarm.

"Just... just a work opportunity." Laika said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant, but probably butchering it. "I'll call as soon as I can, and I'll explain everything, okay?"

"An opportunity? At this hour? For a cafe?" Her mother sounded skeptical, bordering on outraged. "Malaika, I don't like this. You're not making sense. Where are you going? And why so suddenly?"

Ibuki crossed his arms over his chest, giving a sharp gesture of his head. Hurry up.

"I–I have to go," Laika said quietly, her gaze fixed on the towering lion before her. "I love you, mom."

There was a choked sob before her mother responded, "Malaika, wait! You can't just—"

But Laika had already hung up, ending the call before her mother could say more. She couldn't bear to hear the fear and confusion in her mother's voice any longer.

Slowly, she lowered the phone from her ear, her hand trembling slightly as she set it down on her lap. She looked up at Ibuki, though with her blurred vision, he was more of a faint figure. "I'm done.”

"Good kitten," he said quietly, nodding once. In approval? She didn’t know. He jerked his head towards the door.

Like clockwork, the lions began to file out, Dolph leading the way. Free paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Laika’s face before disappearing out the door as well

Ibuki watched their departure. When the last one had left, he then turned his attention back to Laika, his expression unreadable.

"That phone stays with me," he said, holding out a clawed hand expectantly. "For your safety, of course." His tone made it clear it was an order, not a request.

'Likely fucking story,' she thought bittery. More like so she couldn’t call the police on them or some shit like that.

Laika glared at his hand, but slowly placed the burner phone on his palm.

Ibuki closed his fingers around the phone, tucking it into his pocket. He looked down at Laika, his expression softening slightly. "You did well," he said, his voice almost gentle. "Keeping your mother in the dark is for the best. The less she knows, the safer she'll be."

He reached out, gripping Laika’s chin firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze. "But make no mistake, your old life is over. This is your life now, here with us. The Shishigumi is your family now." His thumb brushed over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "And like any family, we take care of our own. But we also expect loyalty, obedience, and strength."

His grip tightened, his claws digging into her skin. "You have a lot to learn, but I have faith in you. The Chief chose you for a reason. Don't let him down." With that, he released her and stepped back, turning to follow the others out of the room.

"So, where am I supposed to sleep?" She called out after him.

Ibuki paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "You'll sleep in the quarters prepared for the boss's heir," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It's not much, but it's yours now." He gestured down the hallway. "Dolph will show you the way."

With that, he stepped out, leaving Laika alone in the room. Dolph appeared a moment later, his expression unreadable. "C’mon," he said, jerking his head towards the hallway. "Let's get you situated."

Laika chuffed, but obeyed nonetheless, hoisting herself up to her feet. Even when she stood full-height, she barely reached their chest.

Dolph led Laika down a dimly lit hallway, the carpet worn and threadbare beneath her feet. He stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. Turning the golden knob, he pushed it open to reveal a small, spartan room.

Inside, a large bed with a thick mattress dominated the space, a nightstand and a towering dresser completing the grand furnishings. A roof-to-floor window looked out over a shimmering lake with a sofa in front of it.

She could feel Dolph’s gaze burn on her neck as she stepped inside.

"...Is this where he used to live?" Laika asked, her voice ragged from her recent crying.

Dolph hesitated, a flicker of… something, crossing his face before he nodded. "Aye. This was the Chief's room." He stepped closer, his voice lowering. "He started in this room, just like you. And look where he ended up."

"Dead."

Dolph's eyes flashed at the blunt statement, his jaw clenching. "He died a respected leader, with the loyalty of his pride and the power to choose his successor." He stepped closer, looming over her smaller frame. "Something you'll never have if you keep talking like that, little cat."

"Whatever," she mumbled and immediately made a beeline to—not the bed—but the small sofa instead. She slumped down onto the cushions, curling up to her side with her back facing the door, tail tucked against her body.

"...Suit yourself," Dolph muttered.

With that, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a firm click. The room fell silent, save for the distant sounds of the city and the soft sound of Laika’s breathing as she tried to find a modicum of comfort on the lumpy sofa.

Choices

Hawks x OC

Keigo never had to make any choices in life. He didn't choose to be born with a deadbeat dad and a mother who barely looked his way without showing disgust. He didn't choose the Hero Commission either—not really. What else was a newly orphaned kid supposed to do? They'd plucked him up from his shitty nest, told him how to use his wings and groomed him to climb all the way up to the top of the Billboard charts. Almost, anyhow.

And he certainly didn't choose her.

Calico.

He hated cats. Always had. Smug little bastards that knocked over his coffee and stared at him like it was his fault. So, of course, it made perfect sense that his so-called nemesis—a thief who worked circles around the city’s finest security systems—would have a Cat Quirk. She didn’t just look like a cat with those pointed ears and tail; she moved like one, too. 

Slippery, quiet, untouchable.   

Annoying.

A cat-burglar—in all literal sense of the word—who caused just enough trouble to get on his radar but not enough to get caught.

“Shouldn’t you be helping old ladies cross the road or something?” Calico's voice cuts through the night, teasing and light. She's perched on the ledge of a building, one leg dangling over the edge, the other bent up casually, like this is her territory and he’s the intruder. 

“Shouldn’t you be returning that necklace you lifted?” he shoots back, wings spreading as he hovers a few feet away. He gestures vaguely toward her satchel, where he knows she's stashed tonight’s haul. 

Calico grins, sharp and unrepentant. “What necklace?” she asks innocently, as if he hasn’t been chasing her for the last three blocks. 

“Cute.” His tone is dry, but the corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. “You know I’ll just take it back, right?” 

“You could try.” There’s a glint in her slitted eyes, the kind that’s a little too inviting for his liking, and she's already moving, leaping to the next rooftop with the fluidity of someone born to defy gravity. Not escaping. Just lazing—as if she's untouchable. Keigo watches her with a lazy eyeroll. “You know that cats eat little chickens like you for breakfast?” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, kitten. Did you expect the city’s number two hero to let you get away with theft? You’re as cute as you are wrong, I’m afraid.”

“We’ve been through this dance before,” she drawls, “Why don’t we skip to the part where I get away and we can both move on with our merry lives?”

He shrugs and lifts his hands up at her, “Or I could take you in? I’m sure prison would get old, sure, but you’d learn to cope! I can come visit.” He grins at her, tilting his head slightly and adds: “I’ll even bring some of those fancy cat treats you like.”

“Pass.” With that, she reels out her grappling hook from her hip and swoops down from the rooftop in a black blur, barely visible in the dark of the night.

Keigo clicks his tongue. “And I even bought you a nice, shiny collar!” He tucks his wings and dives down after her so swiftly. She darts between the towering buildings, trying to shake him off. He's memorized her movements at this point, it was like she hadn’t even moved at all. He makes it ahead of her before she can reach her destination, landing with a thud in front of her.

Calico skids along the ground and darts between his legs, knocking him over with a swipe of her arm. Keigo falls forward. It takes him a split second to regain his footing, he flaps his wings and manages to get up. “Nice try, kitten!” He calls out to her, smirking, his feathers slashing through the air at her as fast as bullets.

She dodges his attacks, her nimble body just able to avoid the graze of his sharpened feathers. “That all you got, birdie?” She taunts him, then extends her claws and lunges at him.

He ducks back, just barely dodging her claws. “Birdie? How original. Come on. I gave you a cute nickname with so much thought behind it and you repay me like that? Shame on you, kitten. Don’t make me clip your claws!” 

And with that distraction, his feathers reach her ankle and she soon finds herself dangling from one of the power poles.

Calico yelps, her claws digging into the wooden pole as she tries to pry herself out from the feathers grip. To no avail. “Ugh!” She groans, shooting him a glare that could kill. “Kitten is not original!”

“It is for you.” He grins and puts his hands on his hips, “Now, I hate to cut this short, kitten, but I do have to head back. Maybe I’ll call you later! In the meantime, you can think of a better nickname than ‘birdie’.”

He chuckles and turns, waving at her over his shoulder, “See ya later, Calico!” One of his feathers hook around her pouch and swerves over back to Keigo, to which he promptly pockets it in his jacket.

“What?” Calico blinks, then her eyes narrow dangerously, “You can’t just leave me here! Put me down!”

He doesn’t bother turning his way, throwing up his hand as he keeps walking towards the edge of the rooftop. “I already spent my lunch break on you! And technically it’s not a crime if you’re just stuck there, so you’ll be okay! The police will get you out of that in a few hours after the sun rises! Ta-ta!”

“Haaawks!”

𓆰𓆪

Keigo is a man of the modern world. He has an internet presence.

He's an established, popular, and well-known public figure. And the Commission, his PR manager, likes to make use of that popularity.

When he returns from patrol, he checks his socials. There are the usual fan questions, people asking about missions and what it's like to work with Endeavor, and a lot of comments regarding his looks.

It takes a few minutes before he can notice a recurring trend appearing.

His fans are curious about 'Calico'.

Keigo taps on one of the videos, which shows the exact image of how he had left her dangling from  the power pole.

Just when the police had arrived, however, she managed to wrangle herself free out of his feathers–which had overexerted themselves at point–and slipped away into the night once more.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to recognize Keigo's feathers, as civilians on social media had figured out.

He isn't particularly surprised to see this, and he can only be thankful that it wasn't any sort of scandal. With a snort, he clicks out of the video and clicks on the comment section. Just as he expected, a lot of people were wondering who Calico was.

He shrugs his shoulders and starts typing in a response to the questions that seemed to linger on people’s minds.

'Ah, damn, cat's outta the bag!'

And, as usual, the Commission is not happy about it.

"You had her…" His handler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "So why didn't you apprehend her and hand her over to the police?"

Keigo doesn't look all too concerned, even when facing the Commission. He leans back against the chair while resting his cheek on his knuckles, "I told you that I didn't want to work that today, and I was on lunch break. I did what you wanted when I tailed her, didn't I?"

The handler stares Keigo down, the frown on his face deep.

“She’s a menace,” he tells Keigo. “We’ve received numerous reports, and that video going around online only serves to give her encouragement! She’s a liability, Hawks. You need to put a stop to her. Next time you see her, catch her. Properly. It’s your responsibility.”

“She’s not anything I can’t handle,” Keigo says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s just some petty thief that plays a little cat and mouse with me every now and then- uh, cat and birdie, I mean. That’s why she’s so popular.”

And there was also the fact that she always seemed to get away, making for a perfect little show between the two of them to give people something to gawk at. Just perfect publicity.

“She’s giving you a reputation,” the handler insists. “The number two hero, unable to capture a single thief? It’s a bad look, Hawks. How can you expect to fill All Might’s role when you can’t even handle a cat?!” His handler sighs. “Just… try harder next time. That’s all you have to do. Bring her in, and stop letting her make you look bad.”

“It was a lunch break," Keigo repeats, but his handler only looks at him disapprovingly. With a shake of his head, Keigo stands, his crimson wings stretching out from his back. He waves a mocking hand in the older man’s direction. “Got it, boss! Next time, I’ll be sure to catch her and serve her up on a plate with a side of roast duck!”

𓆰𓆪

Keigo’s only half-paying attention as he’s patrolling. He flies around the night sky, looking around. It was hard to find anything happening in the dark and the speckles of light glinting in his vision, but even if he did, it wouldn’t be too hard to take down some wannabe villains.

He’s half-asleep when he sees a black blur swoops past in the corner of his eye. He's immediately awake. 

He flies toward the location and as soon as he lands, he feels the breeze of a grappling hook and looks up to see Calico swinging away with her satchel strapped on her back. A smirk curves on his lips and immediately darts after her. She’s quick, he knows, but he’s the number two hero for a reason. Unsurprisingly, he is fast enough, and he blocks her path.

Calico collides into his chest with a grunt. She steps away, her ears flattened to the back of her head and her green eyes narrowed to slits. “You again… Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

He has one hand on his hip, the other pointing at her. With an exasperated sigh, Keigo tells her: "Kitten, come on. We just went through this the other day! What was it I told you? I said I'd see ya later, didn't I?"

“Still waiting for you to explain why you’re so obsessed with me,” she says, tilting her head with a toothy grin. “I’m flattered, really.”  

“Obsession’s a strong word, kitty. Let’s call it professional interest.”  

“Professional, huh?” She steps closer—close enough for him to catch the faintest scent of smoke and something sweet. “I don’t think the Commission would approve of your methods.”  

He doesn't reply. What can he say? She's not wrong. They didn’t approve of much, least of all the cracks in his mask she seems so good at finding. 

He shakes his head before saying, "You're not getting away this time." 

"Think again." Calico unsheathes her claws and swipes at him.

He ducks back, dodging her attack with a smirk. Crimson feathers detach from his back, each of them sharpened and aimed straight at her.

"Give it up!" He shouts to her, "And here I was trying to figure out what you'd like for dinner! Just quit the tough act, kitten! We both know how this will end!"

Calico deflects one feather with her strong, blade-like claws and dodges out of the way, rolling across the rooftop floor. "Like it always does," she says lowly, "With me free and you groveling."

She lunges at him once more.

He grins. He could tell she's not going to go down easily this time. It's a shame. He had hoped to go out to eat and maybe catch a movie.

"I should have known a cute thing like you would be difficult!" he says with a laugh. He ducks back, out of her range again. She's strong. But so is he. That's what made this cat and mouse chase between them so fun.

"You always flirt with your opponents, or should I consider myself special?" She asks, sarcasm dripping through her voice.

"Well, if the shoe fits," he replies, holding his hands up and out as if he's trying to appease her, "You've got the looks and the moves! Why not compliment you? You even walk like a cat. If only you weren't such a bad kitty…" He pauses, grin widening. "I wonder if I could make you purr."

Calico's smugness quickly falls to a frown. She shoots out her grappling hook, the end catching around somewhere behind him as she reels herself in and sinks her heel into his chest.

He's forced to cough, his chest aching from her blow. He's quick to recover, and he grabs the end of her grappling hook with a grin.

"You make me want to just eat you up," He tells her as he reels her in with her own grappling hook, "You're just so much fun, kitten!"

She's brought close to him. He leans in, as if going for a kiss or a bite to her cheek, but instead, he just blows against her feline ear.

"Agh!" She winces, her hand shoots up to cover her ear. "You-!" When her hand comes up, he takes hold of it and wraps one arm around her back, pulling her close.

He leans backward, dipping her as if she were some kind of dame he wanted to sweep off her feet. He smirks down at her and says in a sing-song voice, "Like I said, kitten. Quit. The. Act."

Calico's eyes widen as she's dipped back, and she instinctively grabs his shoulder, her nails dig into his pilot jacket and her brown hair falls in waves behind her head. Her eyes widen, her lips slightly parted.

He can't help but stare. She's beautiful. Of course, she is. Her slitted eyes are the color of emeralds, which only made them even more piercing. And her hair… If it wasn't for the fact that she was a criminal, he would have loved to get to know her.

But he had to catch her. So he leans in, and he does kiss her. His lips are soft and gentle against her own. His hold on her back is firm, keeping her close against him.

He's half-expecting her to retaliate. To scream, shove at him, or maybe scratch at him.

But she doesn't. As their lips stay connected, her body relaxes. Her lips become soft, and it feels like she's almost kissing back.

And in that moment, he's starting to forget about his task. But before long, he pulls away from the kiss, keeping their faces close as he mutters out.

"Surrender."

A beat passes between them.

"Never."

Her hand that's on his shoulder slide down to his arm and before he can react, she pulls it to the side, causing him to tumble. She takes that to her advantage and slips past him. The unmistakable sound of her grappling hook shoots through the air again, and she disappears from sight.

He curses under his breath before getting to his feet. He's an idiot. He has to catch her, and he wasted precious time…

But, well, it had been nice. A nice distraction that had taken his mind off of the pressures that the Commission kept piling on his shoulders. So… It wasn't so bad, he supposes.

But this wasn’t about winning or losing. Not really.  

Keigo watched as Calico darts away, her movements as fluid as the shadows she melts into. He sighs, launching himself into the air with a powerful beat of his wings.  

He didn’t have a choice—not really. But for once, chasing her didn’t feel like just another thing the Commission had demanded of him.