What if Deku was turned into bunny

 

The morning began like any other in the Heights Alliance dormitories—loud, chaotic, and relentlessly early.

 

Izuku Midoriya lay in bed for exactly three seconds after his All Might alarm clock shattered the predawn silence with a booming “I AM HERE! TO WAKE YOU UP!” He slammed a scarred hand onto the snooze button, silencing the Symbol of Peace, and let out a long, ragged exhale that ruffled his messy green curls. The digital numbers glowing in the dim light of his hero-merchandise-plastered room read 5:00 AM.

 

Today was a Tuesday, which meant it was a field exercise day. But it wasn’t just any field exercise; today, Class 1-A was embarking on a fully sanctioned, supervised urban patrol in the low-risk commercial districts of Hosu City. It was the kind of practical, boots-on-the-ground hero work that Izuku lived for. The kind of work that filled his notebooks with fresh, vibrant observations about civilian-hero interactions, property damage mitigation, and crowd control.

 

Throwing off his blanket, Izuku swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet found his favorite pair of fuzzy red slippers. He stood, stretching his arms high above his head, feeling the familiar, dull ache in his joints—a lingering reminder of the sheer physical toll One For All demanded of his mortal frame. He rolled his shoulders, the joints popping in the quiet room, and walked over to his desk.

 

Lying perfectly folded over the back of his chair was his hero costume, Costume Gamma. The deep forest green fabric, reinforced with impact-resistant polymers and interlaced with carbon fiber, seemed to hum with potential energy. His iron soles, designed by Mei Hatsume to channel the kinetic force of his Shoot Style kicks, sat heavily on the floor beside his oversized, signature red boots. Izuku ran a thumb over the reinforced fabric of his bracers. The tactile sensation grounded him. Every thread, every modification, was a testament to how far he had come since the day he was a Quirkless kid crying in an underpass.

 

"Alright," Izuku whispered to himself, a determined smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's do this."

 

By the time Izuku made it down to the common room, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft, golden-pink hue through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the Heights Alliance. The common room was already a hive of activity.

 

Tenya Iida was marching around the kitchen island in perfectly rigid, right-angled movements, aggressively chopping vegetables for a morning stir-fry. "Midoriya! Good morning! I trust you have adequately rested your body for today's strenuous patrol!" Iida announced, his voice carrying the authority of a megaphone even at this hour.

 

"Morning, Iida," Izuku said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled toward the coffee maker. "Yeah, I slept great. Have you seen Uraraka?"

 

"She is currently in a state of suspended animation on the sofa," Iida said, gesturing with a flawlessly straight arm toward the living area.

 

Izuku looked over. Ochaco Uraraka was curled into a ball on the couch, wrapped so tightly in a blanket she looked like a pink burrito. She was snoring softly, occasionally floating a few inches off the cushions before gravity reasserted itself and she gently bumped back down. Beside her, Shoto Todoroki sat perfectly upright in an armchair, silently eating a bowl of cold soba noodles. He didn't even blink as Uraraka floated up and down in her sleep.

 

"Morning, Todoroki," Izuku said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

 

"Midoriya," Todoroki replied evenly. A stray noodle hung from his mouth. He slurped it in. "I read the briefing for today. We are being deployed in four-man cells. Aizawa will be shadowing from the rooftops."

 

"Yeah," Izuku nodded, his mind immediately whirring to life, analyzing the tactical implications. "Since we're going to a commercial district, the primary focus won't be villain apprehension, but rather civilian dispute resolution, traffic management, and maintaining a visible, reassuring presence. It’s an exercise in public relations just as much as it is in situational awareness."

 

"Oi. Deku. Shut the hell up, your muttering is giving me a migraine."

 

Izuku jumped, nearly spilling his coffee. Katsuki Bakugo stomped into the kitchen, his uniform tie hanging loosely around his neck, his spiky ash-blonde hair somehow looking even more aggressive than usual. Bakugo glared at Izuku with his trademark mixture of irritation and fierce, burning intensity. He shoved past Izuku to grab a protein bar from the pantry.

 

"S-Sorry, Kacchan," Izuku stammered, taking a step back. "I was just thinking about the patrol."

 

"We're walking around looking at lost cats and giving directions to old ladies," Bakugo scoffed, ripping the wrapper off the protein bar with his teeth. "It's a waste of my time. If some two-bit thug doesn't show his face, I'm going to blow up a garbage truck just to stay awake."

 

"Please refrain from destroying municipal property, Bakugo!" Iida reprimanded, chopping a carrot with such force the cutting board cracked. "That goes entirely against the spirit of a reassuring public presence!"

 

Bakugo just flipped Iida a casual, explosive spark from his index finger and stormed off toward the dining tables.

 

Izuku watched him go, a familiar mix of exasperation and respect washing over him. Things had changed between them since their fight at Ground Beta, since the secret of One For All had been laid bare between them. They weren't friends—not in the traditional sense—but there was a mutual, unspoken understanding. A fierce, underlying rivalry that pushed them both to the absolute brink. Still, Izuku couldn't help but wish Bakugo would learn to chill out just a fraction of a percent.

 

An hour later, Class 1-A was assembled on the paved driveway outside the dorms, fully suited up in their hero costumes. The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of exhaust and blooming cherry blossoms.

 

Shota Aizawa stood before them, wrapped in his signature yellow sleeping bag, sipping from a juice pouch. His dark, tired eyes swept over the twenty students, analyzing their posture, their equipment, and their readiness. He looked entirely unimpressed, as usual.

 

"Listen up," Aizawa drawled, his voice gravelly and devoid of enthusiasm. "Today is about observation and restraint. You are not pro heroes yet. You have provisional licenses, which means you have the legal right to use your Quirks to defend yourselves and others in an emergency. However." Aizawa unzipped his sleeping bag and stepped out, his capture weapon unfurling slightly around his neck like a restless snake. His eyes flared red for a split second, his Quirk activating to silence a whisper from Kaminari in the back row.

 

"However," Aizawa repeated, "if any of you escalate a minor situation into a major disaster because you couldn't control your impulses, I will personally revoke your license and expel you. Are we clear?"

 

"Yes, Mr. Aizawa!" the class echoed in unison, backs straightening.

 

"Good. You have your team assignments. Get on the bus."

 

Izuku checked his digital roster on his gauntlet. Team C. He tapped the screen and blinked. His teammates for the day were Eijiro Kirishima, Ochaco Uraraka, and... Katsuki Bakugo.

 

Izuku swallowed hard. Oh boy.

 

The bus ride to Hosu City took forty-five minutes. Izuku spent the entire time furiously scribbling in Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 16. He was currently dissecting the aerodynamic drag coefficient of Bakugo's new grenadier bracers, trying to calculate how much velocity they cost him during aerial maneuvers.

 

"Whatcha writing, Deku?" Uraraka asked, leaning over the aisle to peer at his notebook. She was wearing her pink and black Uravity suit, her helmet resting on her lap.

 

"Oh, just some thoughts on kinetic energy dispersion," Izuku said, quickly closing the book, his face flushing slightly. "Nothing important."

 

"Man, I'm pumped!" Kirishima cheered from the seat in front of them, slamming his hardened, rocky fists together. "A real patrol! Think we'll run into any street gangs? I've been working on my Unbreakable form, I'm ready to take hits for you guys!"

 

"We aren't looking for gangs, Shitty Hair," Bakugo growled from the window seat next to Kirishima, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. "We're babysitting civilians. Don't get your hopes up."

 

"Come on, Bakugo, don't be a downer," Kirishima grinned, unbothered by the hostility. "It's gonna be manly either way! We're protecting the streets!"

 

The bus shuddered to a halt, the pneumatic doors hissing open.

 

"Team C, this is your drop point," Aizawa called from the front of the bus. "Comm-links on. Check in every fifteen minutes. I will be monitoring your location. Stay within Sector 4. Go."

 

Izuku and his team filed off the bus, stepping onto the bustling pavement of Hosu City. The morning rush hour was in full swing. Commuters in sharp business suits hurried past, clutching briefcases and coffees. Delivery drones hummed overhead, navigating the towering skyscrapers of glass and steel. The smell of street food—yakitori and sweet crepes—wafted from vendor stalls on the corners.

 

It was a beautiful, ordinary day.

 

"Comm-links active," Izuku said, tapping the earpiece beneath his green cowl. "Testing, testing. Can you guys hear me?"

 

Loud and clear, Deku! Uraraka's voice crackled cheerfully in his ear.

Yeah, I hear you, nerd. Stop shouting, Bakugo's voice grated.

Ready to rock! Kirishima chimed in.

 

Izuku looked around. The sheer scale of the city was intimidating, but it also filled him with a profound sense of purpose. Every single person walking past them had a life, a family, dreams, and struggles. And it was his job—their job—to make sure they could live those lives safely.

 

"Alright," Izuku said, naturally slipping into a tactical mindset. "Sector 4 covers three main avenues and about twelve side streets, including a heavy concentration of retail stores and a subway entrance. We should stagger our formation. Kirishima and Bakugo take the point, Uraraka and I will hang back about twenty meters to cover the flanks and monitor the alleyways."

 

Bakugo scoffed, stretching his arms. "Don't tell me what to do, Deku. I'm walking wherever the hell I want." True to his word, Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked down the sidewalk, scowling at anyone who made eye contact with him.

 

"I'll keep an eye on him!" Kirishima whispered to Izuku with a thumbs-up, before jogging to catch up with the explosive blonde.

 

For the first two hours, the patrol was agonizingly mundane, precisely as Bakugo had predicted. They helped a lost six-year-old find his mother outside a bakery. Uraraka used her Zero Gravity to help a delivery driver lift a tipped-over pallet of bottled water. Kirishima flexed for some middle school kids who asked for his autograph. Izuku gave directions to a group of tourists looking for the train station.

 

It was peaceful. But as the clock ticked past 10:00 AM, the atmosphere in the city began to shift. The morning chill burned off, replaced by a stifling, humid heat that made the heavy fabrics of their hero costumes feel suffocating. The crowds grew denser, more frantic.

 

Izuku wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, adjusting the metal respirator around his neck. He was constantly scanning, his emerald eyes darting from rooftops to alleyways to the hands of the people passing by.

 

"Check-in. Team C," Izuku spoke into his comms. "All clear on the south end of the avenue."

 

Boring as hell, Bakugo's voice replied. I'm sweating my ass off for nothing.

 

I think it's nice! Uraraka chimed in. Everyone is so friendly.

 

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing sound cut through the low hum of the city traffic. It wasn't a car horn. It wasn't a siren.

 

It was a scream. A shrill, terrified, distinctly human scream.

 

Izuku's body moved before his brain consciously processed the sound. One For All: Full Cowling - 5%!

 

Emerald lightning sparked instantly across his skin, illuminating the dark green fabric of his suit. The power surged through his veins, warm and electrifying, amplifying his muscles and heightening his senses. He pivoted on his iron soles, the concrete cracking slightly beneath his boots as he launched himself toward the source of the sound.

 

"Scream detected! North-east, half a block down!" Izuku yelled into the comms. "Moving to intercept!"

 

I'm closer! Bakugo roared over the radio. Outta my way, Deku!

 

Izuku sprinted down the crowded sidewalk, weaving effortlessly through the stunned pedestrians. He turned a sharp corner onto a narrower side street, his eyes locking onto the scene unfolding near the mouth of a dark, narrow alleyway wedged between a ramen shop and a towering corporate bank building.

 

A man was hyperventilating, backed against the brick wall of the alley. He looked to be in his late twenties, wearing a rumpled, oversized trench coat that seemed far too warm for the weather. He was clutching his head, his eyes wide and rolling in panic.

 

But it wasn't the man's panic that drew Izuku's attention—it was his hands.

 

The man’s hands were glowing with a volatile, pulsing, violently pink energy. The light was erratic, strobing wildly like a malfunctioning neon sign. Every time he gasped for air, the energy spiked, shooting off small, unpredictable sparks that popped against the pavement like firecrackers.

 

"Get back! Everybody get back!" the man shrieked, his voice cracking with hysteria. "I can't—I can't hold it! It's misfiring! My medication, I dropped it—it's misfiring!"

 

A small crowd of onlookers had gathered at a semi-safe distance, murmuring and pulling out their smartphones to record the spectacle. A woman at the front of the crowd had been the one to scream; she was clutching a scorched purse that had been hit by a stray spark from the man's glowing hands.

 

Izuku skidded to a halt at the edge of the alley, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He kept One For All active, the green lightning crackling around him, ready to move at a moment's notice.

 

"Sir! I am a hero-in-training!" Izuku called out, projecting his voice to sound as calm and authoritative as possible, channeling his inner All Might. "Everything is going to be alright! Please, try to take deep breaths! What is the nature of your Quirk?"

 

"I—I don't know how to stop it!" the man sobbed, pressing himself harder against the brick wall. The pink energy around his hands began to coalesce, forming a dense, swirling sphere of unstable light. The air around him smelled strongly of sweet, artificial strawberries and burning ozone. "It’s a conceptual transmutation Quirk! It's not meant for combat! It only triggers when I'm under extreme stress, but I can't turn it off!"

 

A conceptual transmutation Quirk? Izuku's mind raced, his encyclopedic knowledge of Quirks cycling through thousands of entries. Transmutation meant altering the physical state or form of an object or person. Conceptual meant the alteration was based on abstract ideas rather than pure chemistry. This was dangerous. Highly unpredictable.

 

"Okay, sir, listen to my voice," Izuku said, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "We are going to clear the area. Just focus on me. Don't look at your hands."

 

"Deku! Secure the perimeter, I'm taking this extra down!"

 

A blast of heat and the smell of caramel washed over Izuku. Bakugo launched himself over the heads of the crowd using a small explosion from his palms, landing heavily in the center of the street. Smoke trailed from his gauntlets, and a feral, adrenaline-fueled grin was plastered across his face.

 

"Kacchan, no! Wait!" Izuku yelled, panic seizing his throat. "He's not a villain! He's a civilian having a Quirk malfunction! Do not engage aggressively!"

 

"He's a public threat!" Bakugo barked, lowering his stance, his palms sparking dangerously. "Hey, trench coat! Shut that cheap light show off right now or I'm gonna blast you into next week!"

 

The man in the alley took one look at Bakugo—at the aggressive posture, the snarl, the literal explosions popping from his hands—and his panic reached a critical mass.

 

"Don't hurt me!" the man screamed, his eyes rolling back in his head.

 

The pink energy in his hands flared with blinding intensity. The sphere of light expanded violently, shrieking with a high-pitched, harmonic resonance that made Izuku's teeth ache. The man thrust his hands forward in a desperate, reflexive gesture of self-defense.

 

A massive, concentrated beam of blinding pink light erupted from his palms. It wasn't aimed at the sky. It wasn't aimed at the wall.

 

It was aimed dead-center at Katsuki Bakugo's chest.

 

Bakugo’s eyes widened, a rare flash of genuine surprise breaking through his anger. He raised his gauntlets to guard, intending to counter-blast the beam, but he was grounded. His center of gravity was set for an offensive strike, not evasion. The beam was too fast, too wide. He wasn't going to dodge it.

 

Time seemed to dilate for Izuku. The world slowed to a crawl. The ambient noise of the crowd, the sirens in the distance, the crackle of Bakugo's explosions—it all faded into a muffled underwater hum.

 

Izuku didn't think. He didn't calculate the trajectory or analyze the Quirk's potential output. He didn't consider the risk to his own body.

 

He just saw his childhood friend in the crosshairs of an unknown, highly volatile energy weapon.

 

One For All: Full Cowling - 15%!

 

The green lightning around Izuku flared into a blinding aura. The power tore through his muscles, straining his ligaments, pushing his body to the ragged edge of what he could safely handle. The pavement beneath his iron soles shattered into spiderwebs of dust and gravel as he kicked off.

 

He moved faster than the eye could track. He became a blur of green and red.

 

"KACCHAN!"

 

Izuku slammed into Bakugo's side with the force of a freight train. The impact knocked the breath out of Bakugo, lifting him entirely off his feet. The two boys collided, tangling in a mess of limbs and hero fabric, hurtling sideways out of the direct line of fire.

 

But Izuku was a fraction of a second too late to clear the blast radius himself.

 

As he pushed Bakugo to safety, Izuku felt the blinding pink beam clip his side. It didn't burn. It didn't carry kinetic force. It didn't blast him backward.

 

Instead, it felt like plunging into a pool of freezing water, followed instantly by the sensation of being struck by lightning.

 

The pink beam engulfed Izuku completely. The light was so absolute, so overwhelmingly bright, that it burned through his closed eyelids.

 

Then, there was a sound like a massive balloon popping—THWOOSH—and a thick, dense cloud of glittering pink smoke erupted in the middle of the alleyway, obscuring everything.

 

"DEKU!"

 

Uraraka's terrified scream tore through the air as she and Kirishima finally arrived on the scene, skidding to a halt just behind the crowd.

 

Bakugo hit the ground hard, rolling across the rough asphalt and scraping his shoulder guard. He scrambled to his feet instantly, coughing as the sweet-smelling pink smoke billowed over him. He ignored the stinging in his palms and the ache in his ribs.

 

"Deku! You stupid, suicidal nerd! I had it under control!" Bakugo roared, waving his arms to clear the smoke. He expected to see Izuku groaning on the ground, nursing a broken bone from overusing his Quirk. He expected the familiar, irritating mumble of apologies.

 

But as the heavy pink smoke began to dissipate, thinning out into the humid morning air, the street was entirely silent.

 

The panicked civilian had collapsed against the wall, passed out cold from the exertion of his Quirk.

 

Bakugo stepped forward, the smoke clearing around his boots.

 

Izuku was nowhere to be seen.

 

"Midoriya!" Kirishima yelled, rushing forward, his skin hardening into jagged rocks just in case. "Where did he go? Did that blast vaporize him?!"

 

"Shut up, Shitty Hair, a Quirk like that doesn't just vaporize people," Bakugo snapped, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs despite his outward anger. He scanned the alleyway frantically. "He's probably in a dumpster or something. Oi! Deku! Stop playing hide and seek!"

 

The smoke finally settled. Bakugo took another step, his heavy boot crunching on something metallic. He looked down.

 

Lying in the center of the asphalt was Izuku’s Costume Gamma.

 

It was completely empty.

 

The green jumpsuit, the metal respirator, the reinforced belt, and the massive red iron-soled boots were collapsed in a heap, looking like a deflated balloon. It was as if Izuku had simply vanished from inside his clothes.

 

"What the..." Bakugo muttered, his crimson eyes widening. A cold spike of genuine dread pierced his stomach. He dropped to one knee, reaching out to touch the fabric of the empty cowl.

 

Suddenly, the pile of clothing shifted.

 

Bakugo froze. Kirishima and Uraraka, who had run up behind him, gasped.

 

"Something's in there," Uraraka whispered, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god, did the Quirk shrink him?!"

 

"Stay back," Bakugo growled. He raised one palm, letting a tiny, warning spark crackle across his fingertips. With his other hand, he grabbed the edge of Izuku's green cowl and slowly, carefully, peeled it back.

 

Nestled deep inside the collar of the hero costume, tangled awkwardly in the laces of one of the massive red boots, was a rabbit.

 

It was a small, incredibly fluffy Holland Lop bunny. It couldn't have weighed more than three or four pounds. Its fur was a vibrant, unmistakably familiar shade of forest green. Its long, floppy ears drooped down the sides of its tiny head, dragging slightly on the asphalt.

 

Bakugo stared at it. The bunny stared back.

 

It had massive, luminous emerald green eyes. And dusted across the bridge of its tiny, twitching pink nose was a distinct, diamond-shaped pattern of dark freckles.

 

For a long, agonizing moment, nobody moved. The sounds of the city seemed to rush back in—the distant sirens, the murmuring crowd, the hum of traffic. But in the center of the alleyway, time stood still.

 

The bunny blinked. It let out a small, high-pitched squeak.

 

Then, it scrambled out of the collar of the suit. It moved with surprising agility, hopping onto the toe of the giant red boot. It sat up on its hind legs, its tiny chest heaving with rapid breaths.

 

Bakugo couldn't speak. His brain had bluescreened. He was trying to process the visual information in front of him, but the sheer absurdity of the situation defied all logic.

 

The bunny looked up at Bakugo. Its emerald eyes were wide with panic. It looked down at its own paws, wiggling them furiously, as if horrified by the lack of thumbs. It looked back at Bakugo.

 

Thump.

 

The bunny stomped its back foot against the red leather of the boot. It was a loud, surprisingly forceful sound.

 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

 

"Deku...?" Bakugo whispered, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

 

The bunny’s ears perked up dramatically. It frantically nodded its head, its green curls—yes, it had curly fur on the top of its head—bouncing.

 

"No way," Kirishima breathed, dropping to his knees beside Bakugo. "Midoriya? Is that you, bro?"

 

The green bunny turned to Kirishima and nodded again. Then, it attempted to stand on its tiptoes. It raised its right paw to the side of its head, struggling with its own floppy ear, and executed a perfect, albeit incredibly clumsy, military salute.

 

"Oh my gosh!" Uraraka shrieked, dropping to her knees and clutching her chest. "He's so CUTE! He's a little green bunny! Look at his freckles!" She reached out, completely bypassing any tactical hesitation, and scooped the rabbit up into her hands.

 

The bunny—Izuku—let out a startled squeak, his legs kicking frantically in the air as Uraraka nuzzled him against her cheek.

 

Put me down! Put me down! Uraraka, please, I'm naked! Technically! And I don't know what's happening! Izuku's mind was screaming. He was trapped. He was completely, utterly trapped in a prison of incredibly soft fur and terrifyingly strong instincts. His heart was beating at three hundred beats a minute. The world was massive, terrifying, and smelled overwhelmingly of sweat, exhaust fumes, and Uraraka's strawberry shampoo.

 

He tried to say, “Please put me down, I need to analyze this Quirk,” but all that came out of his mouth was a series of distressed, high-pitched chirps.

 

"Uraraka, do not squeeze the casualty."

 

The cold, deadpan voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

 

Uraraka froze. Bakugo and Kirishima scrambled to their feet, standing at attention.

 

Shota Aizawa dropped down from the fire escape of the adjacent building, his capture weapon swirling around him. His hair was standing on end, his eyes glowing fiercely red as he glared at the unconscious civilian against the wall. Seeing the man was neutralized, Aizawa blinked, his hair falling back down to his shoulders.

 

He walked slowly toward the group, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet alley. He looked at the unconscious man. He looked at the empty pile of Costume Gamma. He looked at Bakugo, who was staring at the ground, uncharacteristically silent.

 

Finally, Aizawa looked at the tiny, green, freckled bunny shivering in Uraraka's hands.

 

The bunny looked back at him. It tried to salute again, but lost its balance and tumbled backward into Uraraka's palms, ending up on its back with its fluffy paws in the air.

 

Aizawa stared. And stared.

 

He reached into his utility belt, pulled out a juice pouch, jammed the straw in, and took a long, slow sip. He didn't break eye contact with the rabbit.

 

"Sensei," Uraraka whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "The civilian's Quirk... it hit Midoriya. I think... I think it turned him into a bunny."

 

Aizawa let out a sigh so deep, so profoundly exhausted, that it seemed to carry the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if praying for patience from a god he didn't believe in.

 

"Of course it did," Aizawa muttered. "Because why would Midoriya ever just get punched in the face like a normal student? Why must he always defy the laws of biology and physics solely to give me a migraine?"

 

Izuku, still on his back in Uraraka's hands, felt a deep wave of guilt wash over him. He wiggled his nose in apology.

 

Aizawa stepped forward. He reached out with one hand and pinched the scruff of the bunny's neck, lifting Izuku cleanly out of Uraraka's hands. Izuku dangled in the air, going entirely limp by pure, uncontrollable animal instinct, his long ears drooping over his eyes.

 

Aizawa held the green rabbit at eye level. He inspected the freckles. He inspected the curly green fur.

 

"Alright, Problem Child," Aizawa said softly to the rabbit. "Let's get you in a box."

 

Aizawa turned back to the rest of the stunned students. He let go of the scruff and tucked Izuku under his arm like a football. Izuku chirped in protest, feeling incredibly undignified, but found the warmth of Aizawa's jumpsuit strangely comforting against his hyper-active nerves.

 

"Kirishima, Uraraka. Secure the civilian. Call the police and have him safely transported to the nearest hospital for Quirk exhaustion. Tell them UA is claiming jurisdiction over the incident."

 

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

 

"Bakugo," Aizawa said, his tone shifting into something dangerously sharp.

 

Bakugo flinched, his red eyes darting up to meet his teacher's gaze. "I didn't do it on purpose. The extra misfired. Deku jumped in the way."

 

"I am well aware of what happened. I was watching," Aizawa said coldly. "We will discuss your complete disregard for civilian de-escalation later. Gather Midoriya's equipment. Every piece of it."

 

Bakugo scowled, but he didn't argue. He knelt down and began shoving the heavy boots, the belt, and the fabric of Costume Gamma into his utility pack, his jaw clenched tight.

 

Aizawa looked down at the green bunny tucked under his arm. Izuku looked up, his nose twitching rapidly. He felt an overwhelming urge to chew on the zipper of Aizawa's sleeping bag, a thought that horrified his human consciousness but demanded immediate action from his rabbit brain. He fought the urge, instead thumping his foot lightly against Aizawa's ribs to signify his alertness.

 

"Patrol is over," Aizawa announced, turning away from the alleyway and heading back toward the main street. "Class dismissed. We're going to Recovery Girl."

 

As they walked, Izuku peered backward over Aizawa's forearm. He saw Bakugo carrying his empty costume, looking more furious and unsettled than Izuku had ever seen him. He saw the towering buildings of Hosu City, the massive, intimidating world of humans, shrinking away as Aizawa carried him toward the extraction point.

 

I'm a rabbit, Izuku thought, the reality of the situation finally crashing down on him, crushing his panic into a surreal sense of despair. I'm a rabbit, and I have One For All. If I sneeze, I might blow up the city block.

 

Izuku let out a long, tragic sigh, which came out as a soft, pathetic squeak. He let his head rest against Aizawa's arm, his floppy ears covering his eyes, and prayed that Recovery Girl knew a lot about veterinary medicine.

 

The journey from Hosu City back to the UA campus was a masterclass in sensory overload.

 

For Izuku Midoriya, the world had fundamentally shifted in ways his brain was violently struggling to process. Tucked securely beneath Shota Aizawa’s arm, wrapped in the folds of the pro hero's dark, fire-resistant jumpsuit, Izuku was acutely aware of his new physiological reality.

 

His heart was beating too fast. Way too fast. Human resting heart rates hovered around sixty to one hundred beats per minute. Right now, Izuku felt like a snare drum was trapped inside his tiny ribs, vibrating at an astonishing two hundred and fifty beats per minute. Every time Aizawa took a step, the impact echoed through Izuku's delicate skeleton like a localized earthquake.

 

The sounds of the city were terrifying. A passing siren didn't just hurt his ears; it felt like physical pressure against his skull, forcing him to press his long, velvet-soft green ears flat against his back in a desperate bid to muffle the noise. The smells were even worse. His twitching, diamond-freckled nose picked up everything within a mile radius: the metallic tang of car exhaust, the grease of a distant fast-food fryer, the stale sweat on Bakugo, who was walking three paces behind them, and the distinct, dusty scent of Aizawa’s capture weapon.

 

This is a nightmare, Izuku thought, his mind racing a mile a minute. This is a scientifically impossible nightmare. Conceptual transmutation Quirks are incredibly rare, usually limited to minor cosmetic changes. To completely rewrite a target's DNA, alter their mass, and maintain their consciousness? The caloric output required for the Quirk user must be astronomical. How long does it last? Is it permanent? Oh god, what if it’s permanent? What about my mom? What about One For All? Where is One For All? Is it stored in my rabbit muscles? Can a rabbit even handle a stockpiling Quirk? What if I sneeze and break every bone in my body?

 

A distressed, high-pitched eeeeee escaped his tiny throat.

 

Aizawa paused, glancing down at the bundle of green fur shivering against his side. The underground hero adjusted his grip, making sure he wasn't squeezing the fragile creature. "Calm down, Midoriya. Stop overthinking. Your heart rate is vibrating through my ribcage. You're going to give yourself cardiac arrest before we even reach the nurse."

 

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing. He forced himself to inhale slowly through his nose—which only made him smell Aizawa's lack of sleep and cheap coffee more intensely—and exhale. It helped, slightly.

 

Bakugo, stalking silently behind them, glared at the back of Aizawa's head. He had Izuku’s deflated hero costume slung over his shoulder like a morbid trophy. Every few seconds, Bakugo’s crimson eyes would dart down to the green rabbit, as if expecting the spell to break and Izuku to suddenly pop back into existence, crying and apologizing. But the rabbit remained.

 

When they finally passed through the towering security gates of UA High, Izuku felt a marginal sense of relief. The ambient noise of the city faded, replaced by the rustling of trees and the distant shouts of students in the training grounds.

 

Aizawa didn't head for the dorms. He bypassed the main building and marched straight for the medical wing.

 

Recovery Girl’s office was quiet and smelled strongly of antiseptic and eucalyptus. The elderly heroine was sitting at her desk, reviewing medical files on a tablet, when the doors slid open.

 

"Shota? What are you doing back so early?" Chiyo Shuzenji asked, adjusting her visor as she looked up. "Did someone break a bone already? I swear, if Toshinori's protégé has managed to shatter his arms on a peaceful patrol—"

 

"He didn't break his arms, Chiyo," Aizawa interrupted, his voice flat. He walked over to the sterile metal examination table in the center of the room. "But there is a... complication."

 

Aizawa gently lowered his arm and deposited Izuku onto the cold, stainless-steel surface.

 

Izuku’s claws—he had claws!—scraped uselessly against the slippery metal. He lost his footing immediately and splayed out, his four legs sliding in different directions until his furry stomach hit the table. He let out a dignified squeak of indignation and scrambled to pull his legs back under him, tucking himself into a tight, trembling loaf.

 

Recovery Girl stared. She looked from the green bunny, to Aizawa, to Bakugo standing in the doorway holding the empty Costume Gamma.

 

"Is this a joke?" Recovery Girl asked, her voice dangerously low. "Because I do not have the time for practical jokes, Shota."

 

"Does my face look like I'm joking?" Aizawa replied, his eye bags seemingly darker than usual. "Civilian Quirk misfire. Subject stepped in front of a blast meant for Bakugo. Complete cellular transmutation. The civilian was apprehended and is currently being questioned by Tsukauchi at the Hosu precinct, but we need an immediate baseline physical on Midoriya."

 

Recovery Girl sighed, a sound that rivaled Aizawa’s in sheer exhaustion. She hopped off her stool and waddled over to the examination table, her cane tapping against the linoleum floor.

 

Izuku looked up at her, his giant emerald eyes wide. He gave a small, respectful nod of his head.

 

"Well, I'll be," Recovery Girl muttered, leaning in close. She reached out and gently prodded Izuku’s side with a gloved finger. "He certainly has the boy's coloring. And those freckles are unmistakable. Midoriya? Can you understand me?"

 

Izuku nodded vigorously. He tried to say, Yes, Recovery Girl, I have full cognitive function, but what actually happened was his nose twitched rapidly, and he let out a series of soft, rapid grunts.

 

"Fascinating," she murmured. "Human consciousness trapped within an animal brain casing. The cognitive dissonance must be staggering. Stay still, dearie. I need to run some scans."

 

For the next hour, Izuku was subjected to the most humiliating medical examination of his life.

 

Recovery Girl used a variety of Quirk-enhanced medical tools to scan his internal organs, test his reflexes, and draw a miniscule amount of blood. Izuku tried his absolute hardest to be a good patient, but his new body had instincts that aggressively overrode his human logic.

 

When she brought a cold stethoscope to his chest, Izuku involuntarily kicked out with his powerful hind legs, boxing her hand away before he could stop himself. When she shined a penlight into his eyes, he tried to scramble backward, nearly falling off the edge of the table until Aizawa’s hand caught him by the scruff.

 

Through it all, Bakugo stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, glaring a hole into the wall. He hadn't said a single word since they arrived.

 

"Alright," Recovery Girl finally said, pulling down her visor to review the data on a holographic display. "Physically, he is in perfect health. He is a male Holland Lop rabbit, approximately six months old in developmental terms. Weight is exactly three point two pounds. Heart rate, respiration, and body temperature are elevated by human standards but perfectly normal for a lagomorph."

 

"Lagomorph?" Aizawa asked, leaning against the wall.

 

"The taxonomic order for rabbits," Izuku’s brain supplied instantly, proud of his useless trivia knowledge. He squeaked, trying to communicate this to Aizawa, but Aizawa just gave him a blank look.

 

"Rabbits," Recovery Girl clarified. "Now, onto the bad news. His DNA has been completely rewritten. This isn't an illusion, or a physical shell. Down to the cellular level, he is 100% rabbit. Which means he is incredibly fragile. A rabbit's skeleton makes up only eight percent of its body weight. If he falls from a height of more than three feet, he could break his back. If he gets too stressed, he could literally die of a heart attack."

 

Izuku gulped, a tiny, terrified sound. Die of stress? I'm Izuku Midoriya! My entire existence is stress!

 

"What about his Quirk?" Aizawa asked, cutting straight to the most dangerous variable. "Can he activate it?"

 

Recovery Girl frowned, tapping the screen. "That's where things get complicated. His Quirk factor is still present in his blood. It hasn't disappeared. But the 'valves' that allow him to channel that energy are designed for a human circulatory system, not a rabbit's. If he attempts to use his Quirk in this body..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "At best, he shatters every bone in his body. At worst, the sheer kinetic output simply detonates him like a furry hand grenade."

 

Bakugo flinched in the corner. It was a minuscule movement, just a twitch of his shoulders, but Izuku saw it.

 

"So, absolute Quirk prohibition," Aizawa summarized, rubbing his temples. "Great."

 

Just then, Aizawa's phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, eyes scanning the text message. His scowl deepened. "That was Tsukauchi. They finished questioning the civilian. His name is Hideo Tanaka. Quirk: 'Animal Crossing'."

 

Bakugo let out a harsh, involuntary snort from the corner, immediately covering his mouth.

 

"The Quirk," Aizawa continued, ignoring Bakugo, "is triggered by extreme, life-threatening panic. It fires a beam of conceptual energy that transforms the target into their 'spirit animal'—a creature that perfectly reflects their innermost nature and personality."

 

Recovery Girl looked at Izuku. Izuku looked back, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

 

"A small, incredibly anxious, endlessly energetic prey animal that thumps its foot when it's angry and has a tendency to run headfirst into danger to protect its warren," Aizawa deadpanned, looking directly at Izuku. "Yes. I can see the correlation."

 

Izuku thumped his right hind leg on the metal table in offense. I am not a prey animal! I am a hero in training! I have the heart of a lion!

 

"Shut it, problem child," Aizawa said softly. "Tsukauchi also got the duration. The Quirk is tied to a strict chronological lock. Once it activates, the transmutation lasts for exactly three hundred and thirty-six hours. Two weeks. Down to the millisecond."

 

"Two weeks?" Bakugo suddenly barked, stepping out of the corner. "You're telling me this nerd is stuck eating carrots and pooping pellets for half a month? Can't Eraserhead just look at him and shut it off?!"

 

"My Quirk only nullifies active Emitter and Transformation Quirks," Aizawa explained patiently. "This is a completed Conceptual Mutation. The energy has already done its work. The civilian isn't sustaining the form; the form is now Midoriya's default state until the chronological lock expires. Looking at him won't do anything."

 

"What about Eri?" Bakugo pressed, stepping closer to the table, his eyes locked onto the shivering green rabbit. "Have the brat rewind him."

 

"Eri's horn hasn't stockpiled enough energy since the last incident, and using a volatile, unpredictable Quirk like Rewind on a body this fragile is out of the question," Aizawa shot back, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We are not risking his life to save him two weeks of inconvenience."

 

Two weeks, Izuku thought, his tiny heart hammering against his ribs. Two weeks of missed classes. Two weeks of missed training. I was supposed to practice Blackwhip with Sero this weekend! How am I supposed to take notes? How am I supposed to hold a pencil? I'm going to fall so far behind!

 

Izuku panicked. He scrambled toward the edge of the examination table, looking for a piece of paper, a pen, anything. He found a stray clipboard with a medical form on it. He clamped his small teeth around the edge of a ballpoint pen resting beside it, dragging it over the paper.

 

He tried to write: HOW DO I KEEP UP WITH CLASS?

 

But rabbits do not have the neck muscles or the jaw dexterity to write kanji. What ended up on the paper was a series of chaotic, jagged blue scribbles, followed by Izuku accidentally biting down too hard and snapping the plastic pen in half. Blue ink splattered across the paper and onto his green nose.

 

Izuku dropped the broken pen. He stared at the ink-stained mess. The reality of his absolute helplessness crashed down on him. He couldn't speak. He couldn't fight. He couldn't even write his own name. He felt tears prick the corners of his large eyes.

 

A heavy, warm hand suddenly clamped over his head, entirely encompassing it.

 

Izuku froze, looking up.

 

Bakugo was standing over him, his hand resting roughly but securely on Izuku's head. He didn't look at Izuku. He was glaring at Aizawa.

 

"So what's the plan, then?" Bakugo demanded, his voice devoid of its usual screaming, replaced by a low, dangerous grit. "We can't leave him in a hospital bed for two weeks. He'll lose his mind. You put him in a cage, he'll chew right through the bars just to spite you."

 

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, surprised by Bakugo's assessment, but nodded in agreement. "He's still a UA student, and his cognitive function is intact. He will return to the dorms with us. But he is a massive liability. The Heights Alliance is designed to house twenty super-powered teenagers, not a three-pound woodland creature. He needs a dedicated caretaker. Someone to ensure he doesn't get stepped on, accidentally electrocuted by Kaminari, or decide to jump off a balcony because his rabbit brain got startled."

 

"I'll take him back to the dorms," Aizawa continued, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large, clean handkerchief. He leaned over and roughly, but effectively, wiped the blue ink off Izuku's twitching nose. "We're holding an emergency class meeting. We need to lay down the ground rules."

 

Aizawa scooped Izuku up again, tucking him securely against his chest this time. Izuku buried his face into Aizawa's jumpsuit, hiding his embarrassment.

 

"Come on, Bakugo," Aizawa said, turning toward the door. "Bring the suit."

 

Bakugo hoisted the empty hero costume over his shoulder and followed, his expression unreadable.

 

 

 

Word spread fast in Class 1-A. By the time Aizawa pushed open the heavy front doors of the Heights Alliance, the common room was a chaotic mess of speculation and panic.

 

"I heard he got captured by the League of Villains!" Mineta wailed, clutching his head.

 

"Don't be ridiculous, Bakugo was with him," Jiro reasoned, though she looked worried, twisting her earphone jacks around her fingers. "If the League showed up, we would have heard the explosions from here."

 

"Maybe he unlocked a new Quirk that makes him invisible!" Hagakure suggested, a floating pair of gloves waving in the air.

 

"Everyone, please remain calm!" Iida shouted, chopping his arms like a malfunctioning robot. "Mr. Aizawa will undoubtedly return with a logical explanation for Midoriya's absence!"

 

"Quiet," a gravelly voice echoed through the room.

 

Instant silence fell over the common room. The students parted like the Red Sea as Shota Aizawa strode in, looking exhausted. Katsuki Bakugo followed closely behind, his face a thundercloud, holding Izuku’s deflated costume.

 

Uraraka and Kirishima were already sitting on the couches, having returned from Hosu City an hour earlier. They shared a knowing, nervous glance.

 

Aizawa stood at the front of the room, near the large television screen. He unzipped his sleeping bag just enough to reach inside.

 

"There was an incident on patrol today," Aizawa announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the silent room. "Midoriya intercepted a civilian Quirk misfire. He is physically unharmed, but he has been subjected to a temporary transmutation Quirk."

 

"Transmutation?" Momo Yaoyorozu gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. "What kind?"

 

"The kind that turns him into this," Aizawa sighed.

 

He pulled his arm out of his sleeping bag and held up a tiny, incredibly fluffy green rabbit.

 

The silence that followed was so absolute you could hear a pin drop.

 

Nineteen pairs of eyes stared at the bunny dangling by its scruff. The bunny gave a small, nervous twitch of its nose, its long ears flopping over its face.

 

Hello, everyone, Izuku thought, utterly mortified. He gave a tiny wave with his right front paw.

 

"MIDORIYA?!" the class screamed in unison.

 

Chaos erupted.

 

Koji Koda let out a high-pitched squeak of pure delight, immediately covered his red face, and fainted dead away, collapsing backward into Sato's arms.

 

"Bro! You're so small!" Sero yelled, leaning over the back of the couch.

 

"Look at his little fluffy tail!" Mina Ashido squealed, jumping up and down. "He's so cute! I want to dress him in little sweaters! Oh my god, can I put a little bow tie on him?!"

 

"A rabbit?" Todoroki mused, his face perfectly serious, rubbing his chin in deep thought. "The genetic implications are staggering. If All Might is a secret love child of an American hero, and Midoriya is a rabbit... does that mean One For All is originally a quirk meant for the animal kingdom? Is the principal involved?"

 

"Todoroki, what the hell are you talking about?!" Kaminari yelled, grabbing his hair. "He just got zapped by a weird guy in an alley!"

 

"Everyone, SHUT UP!"

 

The explosion didn't come from Aizawa. It came from Bakugo.

 

Bakugo slammed Izuku’s metal-soled boots onto the coffee table with a deafening CLANG. Sparks flew from his palms, his eyes blazing as he glared at the class.

 

"He's not a damn toy!" Bakugo roared, the veins in his neck popping. "He's trapped in there! He can't talk, he can't fight, and if you idiots start grabbing at him, you'll snap his stupid brittle spine! So shut your mouths and listen to the teacher!"

 

The class stared at Bakugo in stunned silence. Katsuki Bakugo, actively advocating for the physical well-being of Izuku Midoriya? It was almost as shocking as the green bunny itself.

 

Izuku blinked in Aizawa's grip, staring at Bakugo in awe. Kacchan...

 

Aizawa shot Bakugo an appraising look before turning back to the class, lowering Izuku into the crook of his arm.

 

"Bakugo is entirely correct, though his delivery is characteristically lacking," Aizawa said dryly. "Midoriya is physically a rabbit. His bones are fragile. He can die of a heart attack if he gets too frightened. And most importantly, if he tries to use One For All, the kinetic recoil will destroy his current body."

 

A collective gasp echoed through the room. The reality of the danger finally sank in.

 

"The effect will wear off in exactly fourteen days," Aizawa continued. "Until then, Midoriya is on strictly mandated medical leave. However, keeping a three-pound animal in a dorm filled with chaotic teenagers who shoot acid, electricity, and tape from their bodies is an unacceptable risk."

 

Aizawa swept his gaze over the class. "Therefore, Midoriya requires a primary caretaker. Someone who will be responsible for his physical safety, his dietary needs, and ensuring he doesn't do anything stupid out of panic or instinct. This person will have him with them at all times outside of classes. They will sleep in the same room. They will be his bodyguard."

 

Instantly, a dozen hands shot into the air.

 

"I'll do it, Mr. Aizawa!" Uraraka pleaded, her eyes wide and determined. "I'm his best friend! I'll keep him perfectly safe!"

 

"Ochaco is too clumsy!" Mina countered, waving her arms. "I'll do it! I have a whole schedule planned out for his meals! And I can melt any obstacles in his way!"

 

"With all due respect, sir," Iida boomed, chopping the air furiously. "As Class President, it is my sworn duty to ensure the welfare of my classmates! I will construct a fortified, padded enclosure in my room and adhere to a strict, minute-by-minute schedule for his optimal health!"

 

"No," Aizawa said flatly, shooting down the eager volunteers.

 

"Uraraka, you're prone to floating things when startled. One accidental touch in your sleep, and Midoriya hits the ceiling. Ashido, your acid is a massive environmental hazard to a creature that relies on smell and touch. Iida, putting him in a padded enclosure will just make him feel like a prisoner and induce panic."

 

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Midoriya retains his human intelligence. He doesn't need a zookeeper. He needs someone who treats him normally, but who possesses an extremely high degree of situational awareness. Someone who naturally commands space, preventing others from crowding him. Someone who wakes up early, maintains a rigid, healthy routine, and, quite frankly, needs an exercise in patience and de-escalation."

 

A heavy silence fell over the room as the class processed Aizawa's criteria. They slowly began to look around at each other, doing the mental math.

 

High situational awareness.

Commands space.

Wakes up early.

Needs an exercise in patience.

 

Izuku, still cradled in Aizawa's arm, felt a sudden, terrifying realization wash over him. He looked up at Aizawa, his giant green eyes wide with horror, his nose twitching frantically. No. No, no, no. Mr. Aizawa, please. Don't do this to me.

 

Aizawa looked down at the rabbit, a sadistic smirk playing at the very corner of his mouth.

 

Then, Aizawa extended his arm, holding the green rabbit out toward the one person in the room who hadn't raised their hand.

 

"Bakugo," Aizawa declared. "You're up."

 

The common room erupted into absolute pandemonium.

 

"WHAT?!" Bakugo shrieked, his voice cracking an octave higher than normal. He physically recoiled, throwing his hands up defensively, a small explosion accidentally popping off his left palm. "Are you out of your damn mind?! I'm not babysitting this damn nerd!"

 

"You are, and that is an order," Aizawa said, stepping forward and thrusting the rabbit toward Bakugo's chest. "You were the one on the scene. You are the one who failed to de-escalate the civilian, which led to this situation. Consider this a hands-on lesson in consequence management."

 

"I'll kill him!" Bakugo yelled, backing away until he hit the edge of the coffee table. "I'll roll over in my sleep and crush him! Or I'll blast him because he sneezes too loud! Give him to Round Face!"

 

"Uraraka doesn't have the intimidation factor required to keep Kaminari and Mineta from treating him like a petting zoo," Aizawa reasoned coldly. "You do. Nobody approaches you unless they want to die. It makes you the perfect shield."

 

"I am not a shield! I am a weapon!" Bakugo roared.

 

"Take the rabbit, Bakugo."

 

"NO!"

 

"It's an assignment. Refuse, and you fail the urban patrol module for the semester."

 

Bakugo froze. His eye twitched violently. He looked at Aizawa's deadpan face. He looked at the rest of the class, who were watching the exchange with a mixture of terror and utter fascination.

 

Finally, Bakugo looked at Izuku.

 

Izuku was suspended in the air, his long ears drooping pathetically. He gave Bakugo a slow, resigned blink. I'm sorry, Kacchan, Izuku's eyes seemed to say. I don't want this either.

 

Bakugo bared his teeth in a feral snarl. He practically vibrated with rage. Slowly, agonizingly, he reached out his hands.

 

He didn't grab Izuku by the scruff. He slid his hands under Izuku's front legs and hoisted him up, holding the rabbit as far away from his body as humanly possible, keeping his arms perfectly straight.

 

Izuku dangled in the air, his hind legs bicycling nervously for a second before he went limp, accepting his fate.

 

"If he craps on my bed," Bakugo ground out, every word dripping with venom, "I am making a green rabbit stew. Do you hear me, Aizawa?"

 

"He's litter trained. Probably," Aizawa shrugged indifferently, turning to leave. "Meeting adjourned. I expect a written report on the patrol by Friday. Good luck, Bakugo."

 

Aizawa walked out of the dorms, the heavy doors shutting behind him.

 

The common room was utterly silent.

 

Bakugo stood perfectly still, his arms locked out, holding the fluffy green rabbit at eye level. Izuku stared back, his nose twitching rapidly, his diamond freckles shifting with every breath.

 

"Kacchan?" Kirishima ventured cautiously from the couch. "Do you... want me to help you find a cardboard box for him?"

 

"SHUT UP!" Bakugo exploded, a vein throbbing prominently on his forehead. "Not another word! From any of you! I am going to my room! If any of you bother me, I will blow this entire dorm to ashes!"

 

Bakugo spun on his heel, still holding Izuku at absolute arm's length, and began a furious, stomping march toward the elevators.

 

Izuku bounced violently with every step Bakugo took, feeling like he was strapped into the world's most terrifying roller coaster. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping his long floppy ears over his face to hide from the terrified stares of his classmates.

 

Two weeks, Izuku thought miserably as the elevator doors dinged open. I'm not going to survive two weeks. I'm going to be murdered by my childhood friend before dinnertime.

 

Bakugo stepped into the elevator, his breathing heavy with repressed rage. He glared at his reflection in the metallic doors, the tiny green rabbit dangling in his grip.

 

"Not one squeak, Deku," Bakugo hissed down at him. "Not one."

 

Izuku clamped his tiny mouth shut, deciding right then and there that breathing was entirely optional for the foreseeable future.

 

The elevator ride to the fourth floor of the Heights Alliance was the longest forty-five seconds of Izuku Midoriya’s life.

 

Suspended entirely by his armpits at the end of Katsuki Bakugo’s rigidly extended arms, Izuku had nothing to do but stare at the polished steel doors and contemplate the absolute absurdity of his existence. He was a rabbit. A three-pound, green-furred Holland Lop. And he was entirely at the mercy of a teenager who routinely used explosions as punctuation.

 

Bakugo didn't say a word. His breathing was heavy, forced through his nose in a slow, rhythmic pattern that Izuku instantly recognized from their sparring sessions. It was the breathing technique Bakugo used to keep his heart rate down right before he unleashed a devastating Howitzer Impact. The fact that he was using it to transport a woodland creature was deeply, profoundly terrifying.

 

Ding.

 

The elevator doors slid open. Bakugo marched down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding against the carpet. He didn't look left or right. He reached room 414, keyed in his passcode with his elbow—refusing to bring Izuku an inch closer to his body than necessary—and kicked the door open.

 

He marched inside, kicked the door shut behind him, and finally, mercifully, lowered Izuku to the floor.

 

Bakugo released his grip and took three massive steps backward, treating Izuku like a live grenade that had already had the pin pulled.

 

Izuku hit the soft, pristine gray carpet of Bakugo’s bedroom. His four paws instantly splayed out, his claws catching the fibers to steady himself. He froze, tucking his limbs tightly beneath his fluffy green body, lowering his long, droopy ears until they were plastered against his back. He didn't dare move a muscle.

 

Bakugo stood in the center of the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders heaving. He stared at the bunny. The bunny stared at him.

 

"Alright," Bakugo growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in Izuku's hyper-sensitive ears. "Listen to me, you useless, fluffy piece of garbage. I didn't ask for this. You didn't ask for this. But Aizawa gave me an order, and I don't fail assignments. Which means for the next fourteen days, you are my problem."

 

Izuku gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. His nose twitched rapidly. He couldn't help it; the room smelled intensely of Bakugo. It was a sharp, clean scent—like cedarwood, laundry detergent, and the faint, ever-present undertone of caramelized sugar and burnt ozone from his nitroglycerin sweat.

 

"Rule number one," Bakugo said, ticking a finger in the air. "You do not touch my things. You do not chew my things. You do not even look at my things. This room is a sanctuary of order, and if you shed your stupid green hair all over my limited-edition climbing gear, I will shave you bald."

 

Izuku gulped, a tiny squeak escaping his throat. He believed him.

 

Bakugo turned his back on Izuku, muttering curses under his breath, and began tearing off his hero gauntlets.

 

For the first time, Izuku had a moment to take in his surroundings from his new, ground-level perspective. To a human, Bakugo’s room was notoriously spartan. A bed with tightly tucked dark sheets, a minimalist desk, a bookshelf meticulously organized by subject, and a small assortment of outdoor gear.

 

To a three-pound rabbit, however, the room was a vast, towering cavern. The bed was an insurmountable cliff. The desk was a skyscraper. The shadows beneath the furniture looked like terrifying, endless abysses where predators might be lurking. Izuku’s heart rate, which had begun to settle, spiked again. His rabbit instincts were screaming at him to find a burrow, to squeeze into a dark, enclosed space where eagles or foxes couldn't reach him.

 

He tried to fight the instinct. I'm Izuku Midoriya. I am a student of UA High. I am the inheritor of One For All. I am not afraid of the space under Kacchan's bed.

 

But the rabbit biology was overwhelmingly powerful. Before his human consciousness could fully veto the action, Izuku’s hind legs kicked out. He darted across the carpet in a blur of green fur, diving headfirst into the narrow, shadowed gap between Bakugo’s heavy oak desk and the wall.

 

He squeezed himself into the corner, pressing his back against the baseboard, panting heavily. It was dark. It was tight. It felt incredibly safe.

 

"Oi!" Bakugo barked.

 

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Heavy footsteps approached the desk. Bakugo’s face suddenly appeared in the gap, upside down as he leaned over the side of the desk, his crimson eyes narrowing at the quivering green fluffball wedged in the corner.

 

"What the hell are you doing down there, Deku?" Bakugo demanded. "Get out here."

 

Izuku shook his head, pressing himself flatter against the wood.

 

"Get out here before I pull you out by those stupid floppy ears!"

 

Izuku thumped his back foot against the floorboard. Thump. It was a reflex. An involuntary display of annoyance and fear.

 

Bakugo blinked, clearly taken aback by the noise. Then, his face twisted into a scowl of sheer exasperation. He stood up, running a hand aggressively through his spiky ash-blonde hair.

 

"Fine. You want a cave? I'll build you a damn cave," Bakugo muttered, stomping away from the desk. "Stupid rabbit instincts. Stupid Quirk. I should have blown that extra to pieces."

 

Izuku opened one eye, peering out from his hiding spot. He watched as Bakugo marched over to his closet and began violently dragging things out.

 

What followed was a display of aggressive, spiteful craftsmanship that left Izuku entirely bewildered.

 

Bakugo hauled a massive, heavy-duty cardboard box out of his closet—the kind used for shipping large appliances. He threw it into the center of his pristine floor. Then, he grabbed a metal ruler, a black marker, and a terrifyingly sharp utility knife from his desk.

 

With the terrifying precision of a seasoned combat tactician, Bakugo began drafting schematics on the side of the box. He measured angles, marked cut lines, and then descended upon the cardboard. He didn't just cut a door; he cut a reinforced archway to ensure structural integrity. He sliced air vents along the sides. He dismantled a smaller box and used a roll of industrial duct tape to create a secondary, partitioned sleeping area inside the main box, ensuring there was a clear line of sight from the entrance, just like a proper tactical bunker.

 

"You need soft terrain," Bakugo grumbled to himself, throwing the utility knife onto his desk. He walked over to his bed, stripped off his thick, highly expensive fleece throw blanket, and mercilessly shoved it through the archway of the box, padding the bottom of the enclosure.

 

Izuku watched, utterly mesmerized. Bakugo was fuming, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful, yet he was building Izuku a bespoke, multi-room luxury rabbit habitat.

 

"There," Bakugo announced, kicking the side of the finished cardboard fortress. "The Deku Pen. It's blast-resistant, well-ventilated, and has a designated corner for you to be a pathetic coward in. Now get in it."

 

Izuku didn't move. He was still wedged behind the desk.

 

Bakugo let out a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl. He knelt down, reached his hand into the narrow gap, and gently but firmly scooped Izuku up by his furry waist. He didn't use the scruff this time. He just carried the rabbit over to the cardboard enclosure and unceremoniously deposited him onto the fleece blanket inside.

 

Izuku landed softly. The fleece was incredibly plush against his paws. The interior of the box smelled like Bakugo’s laundry detergent, but the darkness and the enclosed walls immediately soothed the screaming prey instincts in his brain. It was, undeniably, a fantastic burrow.

 

Izuku turned around, hopped to the front archway, and looked up at Bakugo, his nose twitching. He offered a soft, appreciative squeak.

 

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't do it because I like you," Bakugo snapped, pointing a threatening finger at the bunny. "I did it so you wouldn't track dust bunnies from behind my desk all over my carpet. Now stay there. I have to go deal with your dietary requirements, because if you starve to death on my watch, Aizawa will expel me."

 

Bakugo grabbed his phone, pulling up a web browser with a furious swipe of his thumb. He began aggressively typing.

 

"What do these stupid things even eat," Bakugo muttered, his eyes scanning the screen. "Hay. Where the hell am I supposed to get hay in a high school dormitory? Fine, vegetables. Leafy greens. Carrots are high in sugar, strictly for treats. Look at this, Deku, you can't even eat a carrot properly without getting diabetes. You are a biological failure."

 

Izuku thumped his foot defensively.

 

"Shut up," Bakugo retorted, not looking up from his phone. "Romaine lettuce. Bell peppers. Cilantro. Fine. If that four-eyes Iida ate all the good vegetables for his stupid stir-fry this morning, I'm going to murder him."

 

Bakugo pocketed his phone and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, looking back at the cardboard box.

 

"I am locking this door," Bakugo warned. "If you pee on my fleece blanket, I will throw you out the window."

 

With that, the door clicked shut, the deadbolt sliding into place.

 

Izuku was alone.

 

He let out a long, shaky exhale, the sound escaping as a prolonged squeal. He collapsed onto his stomach, letting his chin rest on his front paws, his long ears pooling on the fleece around his head.

 

He was exhausted. The physical toll of the transmutation, combined with the sheer emotional panic of the last few hours, had completely drained his stamina. He closed his eyes, trying to reach deep within himself to feel the familiar, comforting warmth of One For All.

 

It was there, but it felt distant. Muffled. Usually, OFA felt like a roaring furnace of power sitting just behind his ribs, ready to ignite at a moment's notice. Now, it felt like a tiny, flickering candle trapped behind thick, impenetrable glass. The "valves" that Recovery Girl had mentioned were completely sealed off. His rabbit body couldn't access the stockpiled energy. He was, for all intents and purposes, entirely Quirkless again.

 

The realization stung, bringing a phantom ache to his chest. But surprisingly, the overwhelming panic had subsided, leaving behind a strange sense of resignation.

 

He opened his eyes and looked around Bakugo's room from inside his cardboard bunker.

 

He built me a house, Izuku thought, a small, involuntary twitch of amusement tugging at his whiskers. Kacchan hates me, he hates this situation, but he still built a structurally sound, fleece-lined house.

 

It was the ultimate paradox of Katsuki Bakugo. He was violently hostile in his delivery, but impeccably responsible in his execution.

 

Izuku hopped forward, poking his head out of the cardboard archway. The coast was clear. He cautiously stepped out onto the gray carpet.

 

His rabbit body was a strange thing to pilot. His center of gravity was drastically different. His back legs were incredibly powerful, coiled like heavy springs, while his front legs were delicate and mostly used for balance and grooming. When he tried to walk like a human, one paw in front of the other, he immediately lost his balance and tipped sideways.

 

Okay, hopping it is, Izuku mentally noted.

 

He executed a small, tentative hop. It felt natural. Effortless. He hopped again, moving toward Bakugo’s desk.

 

He looked up. The wooden legs of Bakugo’s desk chair were directly in front of him.

 

Suddenly, a bizarre, entirely uncontrollable urge washed over Izuku's brain. He looked at the wooden chair leg. His front teeth—two massive, incredibly sharp incisors—began to ache. His gums tingled. The wood looked... delicious. Not in a nutritional sense, but in a deeply satisfying, textural sense.

 

No, Izuku’s human consciousness commanded. That is Kacchan's property. He will literally murder me. Do not bite the chair.

 

Bite the chair, his rabbit instincts countered with overwhelming force. Teeth long. Must gnaw. Wood good.

 

Izuku took a step forward, his nose practically touching the polished oak. He opened his mouth, his little pink tongue grazing the wood.

 

Izuku Midoriya, stop! You have the willpower of a hero! You stared down Muscular! You can resist a piece of furniture!

 

His mouth opened wider. His teeth hovered millimeters from the wood.

 

Suddenly, the doorknob rattled.

 

Izuku’s survival instincts instantly overrode his chewing instincts. He scrambled backward, his claws slipping frantically on the carpet, and launched himself in a panicked leap through the air. He soared three feet, diving flawlessly through the cardboard archway and landing in a perfect, innocent loaf on the fleece blanket just as the door swung open.

 

Bakugo kicked the door shut behind him. He was carrying a ceramic plate in one hand and glaring fiercely at it.

 

"They didn't have cilantro," Bakugo announced to the room at large, sounding personally offended by the UA kitchen's lack of inventory. "So you're getting basil. Deal with it."

 

Bakugo marched over to the Deku Pen and set the plate down just outside the archway.

 

Izuku peered out.

 

The plate was a culinary masterpiece.

 

Bakugo had not simply thrown some vegetables on a dish. He had julienned premium romaine lettuce into perfectly uniform strips. He had diced red and yellow bell peppers into identical, symmetrical cubes. He had arranged them in a visually pleasing, color-coordinated ring around a small mound of fresh basil leaves. In the center, sitting like a crown jewel, was a single, perfectly sliced coin of an organic carrot.

 

It looked like something out of a five-star Michelin restaurant, miniaturized for a woodland creature.

 

Bakugo sat cross-legged on the floor a few feet away, resting his chin on his fist. He glared at Izuku.

 

"Eat," Bakugo commanded. "I spent ten minutes fighting Half-and-Half for that red pepper. He was trying to put it in his cold soba. Disgusting. Eat it before it wilts, nerd."

 

Izuku hopped out of the box, his nose twitching wildly. The smell of the fresh greens was intoxicating to his new senses. His stomach gave a tiny, audible rumble.

 

He approached the plate cautiously, keeping one eye on Bakugo. He lowered his head, picked up a strip of romaine lettuce, and began to chew.

 

The mechanics of rabbit chewing were entirely alien to him. His jaw moved rapidly side to side, creating a fast, rhythmic crunch-crunch-crunch sound that filled the quiet room.

 

Bakugo watched him, his intense red eyes tracking every movement of Izuku's jaw.

 

Crunch-crunch-crunch.

 

Izuku felt incredibly self-conscious. It was deeply humiliating to be sitting on the floor, naked and furry, aggressively eating a salad while his childhood bully-turned-rival stared at him with unblinking intensity. But the lettuce was genuinely the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. The crisp water content, the subtle earthy flavor—it was a symphony of rabbit gastronomy.

 

Izuku moved on to the bell peppers. They were sweet and crunchy. Then, he saved the best for last. He picked up the single slice of carrot.

 

"I read that carrots are like candy for you idiots," Bakugo muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Don't get used to it. You get one piece a day. I'm not dealing with a hyperactive, sugar-high bunny tearing up my room."

 

Izuku happily munched on the carrot, closing his eyes in sheer bliss. It was incredibly sweet. He swallowed the last piece, sat back on his haunches, and began meticulously wiping his face with his front paws, entirely driven by instinct to clean the vegetable juice from his fur.

 

Bakugo snorted, a sound of mild, begrudging amusement. "You look ridiculous, Deku."

 

Izuku paused his grooming, lowering his paws. He looked at Bakugo. The anger in Bakugo's eyes had dialed back from a boil to a low simmer.

 

Izuku took a tentative hop forward, closing the distance between the plate and Bakugo’s crossed legs. He stopped about an inch from Bakugo’s knee.

 

Izuku wanted to say thank you. He wanted to acknowledge the effort Bakugo had put into the food, the shelter, and the reluctant protection.

 

He raised his right front paw and tapped it lightly against the fabric of Bakugo's sweatpants. Tap.

 

Bakugo froze. He looked down at the tiny green paw touching his knee.

 

Izuku tapped again, trying to mimic a human pat on the shoulder. Tap. Tap.

 

"What are you doing?" Bakugo asked, his voice dropping into a low, confused register. "Are you trying to fight me?"

 

Izuku vigorously shook his head. He tapped again, then pointed his paw at the empty plate. He hopped in a small circle, a classic rabbit display of happiness, before returning to Bakugo's knee and tapping it once more.

 

Bakugo stared at him for a long, quiet moment. The aggressive tension slowly bled out of his shoulders.

 

"Yeah, whatever," Bakugo mumbled, aggressively looking away, a faint dusting of pink appearing on his ears. "Just don't expect a five-star meal every night. You'll get what I make, and you'll like it."

 

Bakugo uncrossed his legs, standing up in one fluid motion. He grabbed the empty plate from the floor.

 

"I have homework to do," Bakugo announced, walking toward his desk. "Don't bother me. If you need to... go to the bathroom, use the litter box I set up in the corner of the bathroom. If you miss, you're sleeping in the hallway."

 

For the next three hours, the room was perfectly silent, save for the scratching of Bakugo’s pencil against paper and the occasional rustle of Izuku shifting in his cardboard bunker.

 

Izuku watched Bakugo study. His posture was rigid, his focus absolute. Bakugo didn't listen to music, he didn't check his phone, he just ground through complex calculus equations with the same ferocious intensity he applied to combat training.

 

It was strange, Izuku thought, being this close to Bakugo without the constant pressure of a fight or an argument. It was peaceful.

 

As the digital clock on Bakugo’s nightstand clicked over to 10:00 PM, Bakugo slammed his textbook shut. He stood, stretched his back until it popped, and turned off the overhead lights, leaving only a small desk lamp casting a warm, amber glow over the room.

 

"Lights out, nerd," Bakugo grumbled. He walked over to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

Izuku curled into a tight ball on the fleece blanket inside his box. He was physically exhausted, but his mind was still racing. Tomorrow, he would have to face the rest of the class. He would have to figure out a way to communicate. He would have to survive without his Quirk.

 

Bakugo returned, wearing a plain black t-shirt and loose sweatpants. He checked the lock on the door, adjusted the thermostat, and walked over to his bed. He slid beneath the heavy, dark comforter, turning off the desk lamp with a click.

 

The room plunged into darkness.

 

"Night, Deku," Bakugo muttered, his voice muffled by his pillow. "Don't do anything stupid."

 

Izuku gave a soft, quiet squeak in response.

 

Slowly, the exhaustion overpowered his anxiety. The smell of Bakugo’s laundry detergent on the fleece blanket wrapped around him, and Izuku Midoriya drifted into a deep, heavy sleep.

 

 

 

The sky was burning.

 

Izuku was standing in the ruins of Jaku City. The ash fell like snow, coating his boots, clogging his respirator. The air smelled of sulfur and death.

 

He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. Not his blood. The blood of his friends. The blood of the heroes who had fallen trying to stop the decay.

 

A shadow loomed over him. A massive, twisted figure with stark white hair and eyes that burned with absolute, unadulterated hatred. Tomura Shigaraki.

 

"You're too late, Izuku," Shigaraki rasped, his voice echoing from every direction at once. He reached out a hand, his fingers splayed, the skin cracking and flaking.

 

Izuku tried to summon One For All. He screamed, pulling on the power, demanding it to surge through his veins.

 

Nothing happened.

 

His body felt impossibly heavy. He looked down again. His hands were gone. They had been replaced by small, green paws. He wasn't standing; he was hovering inches off the ground, trapped in a bubble of blinding pink light.

 

Shigaraki laughed. "You're nothing without that power. You're just a frightened little animal."

 

Shigaraki's hand descended. Five fingers reached toward Izuku's face.

 

Izuku tried to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The pink light tightened around him, squeezing his ribs, crushing his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't fight back.

 

"Die, little rabbit."

 

Izuku jolted awake, his tiny body thrashing violently against the fleece blanket.

 

His eyes flew open in the pitch black of the cardboard box. His heart was hammering so fast it felt like a continuous spasm in his chest. His lungs gasped for air, his nose twitching frantically as he searched for the scent of ash and decay.

 

He wasn't in Jaku City. He was in a box.

 

But the terror didn't fade. His rabbit instincts, fueled by the adrenaline of human trauma, hijacked his body entirely. The darkness felt suffocating. The silence was deafening. He was trapped. He was powerless.

 

Panic overtook him.

 

Izuku scrambled to his feet. He began to kick his powerful hind legs against the cardboard floor in a rapid, machine-gun rhythm.

 

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

 

The sound echoed through the quiet bedroom like a drum. It was a rabbit's alarm call, a desperate signal of absolute terror.

 

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

 

"What the hell..." a groggy voice grumbled from the darkness above.

 

Izuku couldn't stop. He threw himself against the side of the cardboard box, his claws scratching frantically at the walls. He needed out. He needed to run.

 

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

 

"Oi. Deku. Cut it out," Bakugo’s voice snapped, sharper this time.

 

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a high-pitched, distressed scream—a horrific, piercing sound that rabbits only make when they believe they are about to die.

 

A lamp clicked on, flooding the room with harsh, blinding light.

 

Izuku froze, panting heavily, cowering in the corner of his box, his green fur puffed out until he looked twice his size. He was shivering violently, his tiny body vibrating with residual adrenaline.

 

Heavy footsteps crossed the carpet. Bakugo crouched down in front of the box, his hair a mess, his red eyes narrowed against the light. He looked infuriated at being woken up at 2:00 AM.

 

"I said knock it off," Bakugo hissed, reaching a hand into the box to grab him.

 

Izuku flinched violently, flattening his ears against his back and burying his face in his paws, letting out a tiny, pathetic whimper. He expected to be yelled at. He expected to be thrown in the bathroom.

 

Bakugo’s hand stopped mid-air.

 

The anger melted off Bakugo’s face, replaced by a sharp, calculating frown. He recognized that flinch. He recognized that shivering. It wasn't just an animal being annoying; it was Izuku Midoriya having a full-blown panic attack.

 

Bakugo slowly withdrew his hand. He sat back on his heels, letting out a long, quiet sigh.

 

"Stupid, traumatized nerd," Bakugo muttered, his voice entirely devoid of its usual venom. It was quiet. Almost gentle.

 

Bakugo reached back into the box, moving his hands slowly and deliberately so Izuku could see them coming. He didn't grab the scruff. He gently scooped his hands under Izuku's belly, supporting his fragile back legs, and lifted him out of the box.

 

Izuku was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, bracing himself.

 

But Bakugo didn't yell. Instead, he stood up, carrying Izuku over to the bed.

 

Bakugo sat on the edge of the mattress, resting Izuku on his lap. He began to stroke the top of Izuku’s head with a single, calloused thumb, smoothing down the ruffled green fur between his floppy ears.

 

"You're in my room, you idiot," Bakugo said softly, staring down at the shivering rabbit. "There are no villains here. The security system is active, Aizawa is downstairs, and I'm right here. Nobody is getting in."

 

Izuku opened his eyes. The sheer warmth radiating from Bakugo's body was grounding. The rhythmic, repetitive motion of Bakugo’s thumb stroking his head began to override his panicked instincts.

 

"You're not dying. You're just a stupid rabbit for a couple of weeks," Bakugo continued, his tone gruff, but the physical action belying his harsh words. "So stop acting like it's the end of the world. You fought Shigaraki. You can handle being fuzzy for a while."

 

Izuku felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. He leaned his head forward, pressing his tiny, wet nose against the palm of Bakugo's hand.

 

Bakugo stiffened slightly, but he didn't pull away.

 

They sat there in the quiet glow of the desk lamp for ten minutes. Slowly, agonizingly, Izuku’s heart rate began to decelerate. The frantic snare drum in his chest slowed to a steady, manageable rhythm. The shivering stopped.

 

Izuku let out a deep, soft sigh, his body going limp against Bakugo’s knee.

 

"Better?" Bakugo asked quietly.

 

Izuku gave a tiny nod.

 

"Good." Bakugo picked him up by the waist and moved him.

 

But he didn't carry Izuku back to the cardboard box. Instead, Bakugo placed him at the very foot of his bed, right on top of the heavy, dark comforter.

 

"Listen to me carefully," Bakugo whispered, climbing back up to the head of the bed and pulling the sheets over himself. "If you chew my sheets, you die. If you pee on my bed, I will personally throw you into Mount Lady's cleavage so she can crush you. But if you stay at the foot of the bed and don't make a sound, you can sleep here tonight."

 

Izuku stared at Bakugo, his emerald eyes wide with gratitude.

 

"Don't look at me," Bakugo grumbled, turning over and burying his face in his pillow, reaching a hand out to click off the lamp.

 

The room plunged back into darkness.

 

Izuku didn't move. He lay at the foot of the bed, feeling the weight and warmth of Bakugo’s feet shifting under the blankets a few inches away. The lingering scent of nitroglycerin and cedarwood surrounded him.

 

It was quiet. It was safe.

 

Izuku Midoriya closed his eyes, his nose twitching once, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

For the first time since the pink light had engulfed him in that alleyway, he wasn't afraid. He was just a rabbit, and his Pomeranian was keeping guard.