The Wild Wild Pussycats and Deku!

Part 1- UA

Looking back on everything, Izuku realized how lucky he was. Not everyone got pulled out of the crazy orphanage filled with lost hope and hidden secrets.

The dark past of Izuku Midoriya was indeed something to look at, and compared to his current state, many things had changed since he turned fifteen and most of them he didn't mind.

The cold orphanage with metal walls and distant wood flooring felt like an old nightmare when he awoke to an unamused Kouta poking him in the face repeatedly.

His eyes shot open and made the unsuspecting horned-hat boy stumble back, even more unamused than mere minutes ago.

The green haired boy chuckled," Weren't expecting that, were you, Kouta?" Their relationship was that of brothers. Extremely rocky about 70% of the time but there were precious memories scattered like diamonds among layers of casual stone.

"Not funny, Izuku." He straightened his red hat with plain yellow horns poking out of the front. Embarrassment was not something new to Kouta in their secluded home in the pleasant forest. Ever since Ten year old Izuku jumped in front of a rampaging bus to save a very unsuspecting Kouta, he'd been welcomed into the odd household with open arms.

Well, open paws.

"Since you're a little jumpy today, then maybe we can work on reflexes. Tiger taught me some cool moves and I think you'll like them." Izuku ruffled the smaller boy's dark brown hair with a scarred, calloused hand. Courtesy of the rampaging bus and driver, Midoriya had more than a few scars to remember that fateful memory with astounding proof.

A hint of a smile tugged at Kouta's thin lips, anticipation played in his eyes while the boy tried to hide his excitement.

When he swiftly turned around and walked out of Izuku's bedroom, Midoriya sighed and shook his head, silently adding 'How typically Kouta'.

The freckled teen's bedroom was certainly nothing to look at: He hadn't really seen the point of flamboyant decorations, growing up in a bare, shared room and all. His white carpet was nothing special, only there for its role in general physical comfort.

He had a plain ceiling fan that rotated almost hypnotically when he stared at it too long, like one would watch the night sky on a blanket outside in the chilly wind.

He used to go outside a lot as a kid, anything to get away from the loud, boisterous government house filled with dozens of children with no last name.

He liked to pretend his parents were coming back from them, that his mom survived the fatal stab wound to her gut, like his dad hadn't shown up one night out of the blue with a grin and a dagger. He liked to pretend it was another distant nightmare the caverns of his mind made up for sport.

No matter how much proof there was of his mother's imminent death or blood traces, he liked to ignore the facts and focus on other people instead. He didn't like to talk about himself at all.

His first name and phone number had been enough to satisfy anyone who asked, for as long as he could remember.

He liked to be the one asking questions rather than being the recipient, too much pressure being hounded for answers by random girls or curious old men. He just didn't like it and didn't know why, nor did he care.

He lived in the woods, with The Wild Wild Pussycats and the elusive Kouta. Not many distractions from his online schooling and frequent journeys to Kouta's hideout to see what his closest companion did for fun.

As he goes through his classic morning routine, he remembers his visits to Kouta's 'secret' getaway, watching his younger brother-like friend sit and stare at constellations the horned-hat wearing boy named himself.