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    Summary

    “Oi! You three!” a new voice called from behind. The group stopped to look back at a single figure. He was blond and angry looking, standing half a block away, between Izuku and his apartment. His crimson eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t happen to be poaching on my territory, would you?”

    Huh?

    “Of course not,” the leader of the group said, suddenly amiable. “He’s wearing a collar, after all. He’s one of ours. Can’t poach what’s already yours.”

    Izuku bit his lip.

    “Oi, broccoli-head, where do you live?” the blonde demanded.

    “Don’t tell him,” the leader ordered, but Izuku’s eyes were already trailing up to his apartment, one block away, three floors up.

    So close, yet so far.

    The blonde grinned savagely. “Poaching it is.”

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