"Excuse me? Um, excuse me?"
It takes a while for the woman to notice him, and even longer for her to look up. She's sitting crosslegged on the park bench, curled in on herself as she rocks and weeps, and she's been sitting and rocking and weeping since Izuku first arrived ten minutes ago. He can feel a painful pressure in his throat just looking at her, and his eyes sting. He forces the feeling back. It's hard not to cry when other people are crying, and this woman's been sobbing her heart out while Izuku waited for everyone within hearing range of her to leave.
He wishes he could say he was surprised, but just three days ago a supervillain was in the area. Heroes from a local agency took him down, but not before he took a few buildings down with him. The damage still lingers.
Finally, slowly, she raises her head.
"Were you talking to me?" she asks quietly.
Izuku manages a smile. "Yes," he says. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, not now when there's no one close enough to hear. "S-sorry to bother you. If you want me to leave-"
Her hand closes around his wrist, and Izuku manages to keep still and calm instead of startling. She can't help it, he knows she can't help it, but once in a while he still spooks. "No," she says. "No, please don't go."
Izuku sits beside her gingerly. "It's okay," he says. "What's your name? I'm Midoriya."
After a moment, she whispers, "Y-Yamamoto."
"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Yamamoto." She's still holding his wrist. "Did you need help with something?"
"Yes," she chokes out, and the sob isn't just for fear and sorrow – there's relief in it, too.
"What is it?" Izuku asks gently, always gently. "What can I help you with?"
"I..." With her free hand, she wipes in vain at the tears coursing down her face. "I... I'm trying. I can't remember. Why can't I remember?"
"It's okay, Ms. Yamamoto," he repeats. "It's okay. Nothing's going to hurt you. Just... breathe." It's an absurd thing to tell her, but he can't think of anything else, and going through the motions of inhaling and exhaling seems to calm her anyway.
"I, um," Ms. Yamamoto sniffles. "It was... it was something important."
"Do you need to tell someone something?" Izuku asks.
"N-no, not really, I don't... I don't have anyone to tell... there's no one..."
"Okay. Do you need to find something?"
"Yes! Yes, I... um..." She pauses, and her cold grip on his wrist tightens. "Or maybe..."
"Did you lose something?" Izuku presses. "Did you... leave something somewhere?"
"Yes!" Her voice grates oddly in his ears, sending chills up his spine, but she's smiling through her tears. "Yes, yes! That was it! I left... I left..."
"Was it at home? At work? Where did you leave it?"
"Home," Ms. Yamamoto says. "Home. Take me home."
Izuku nods, and smiles at her in what he hopes is a reassuring way. "Tell me where."
She takes him to an apartment building, only a few blocks away. She lives on the fifth floor, she says, and takes the elevator up and down every day. Izuku bypasses it and takes the stairs instead.
There's no convenient spare key hiding under a doormat, which is a minor hiccup for Izuku. He knocks, just to be sure, but when no one answers, he checks over his shoulders for witnesses or security cameras. When none appear, he picks the lock and enters.
He's only just closed the door behind him when there's a faint, rhythmic jingling, accompanied by a high-pitched trill. Ms. Yamamoto lets out a sob as a small, one-eyed cat comes trotting out of the apartment's hallway, yowling over the ringing of the bell on its collar. As Izuku watches, the cat threads its way around Ms. Yamamoto's ankles and rumbles with a loud purr. The woman's fingertips ghost over the cat's fur, barely touching it.
Izuku moves off and creeps through the empty apartment. It's not messy in any way, but it looks cluttered and lived in, and he can tell that Ms. Yamamoto never had any roommates besides her cat. There's a daily calendar on the kitchen counter, showing the page for three days ago. At the foot of the pantry is a cute little mat with the cat's food and water bowls on it. Both are empty, and Izuku winces. He fills them, after hunting and poking through pantries to find the cat food, and moments later the cat comes trotting back in and falls upon the bowls. Izuku checks the tag on her collar; the cat's name is Mika.
"I left her."
Izuku looks back at the sound of Ms. Yamamoto's voice. The woman stands at the entrance to the kitchen, hands wringing at her sides. "I left her," she repeats. "Three days ago, when that man... the building fell… I wasn't fast enough. She could've..." She flickers, like an old video. For a split second blood runs down her face and her neat clothes are ragged and scorched with dark, wet stains, and then Izuku blinks and she's normal again. "I left her."
His eyes sting, and when he blinks his vision is blurry. "It wasn't your fault," he says softly.
"She could've starved." Her eyes – or the blank white sockets where her eyes would have been, three days ago – turn to him. "She would've died, but you helped me."
Izuku forces a shaky smile. "Do you need anything else?"
"Make sure – make sure she's okay." Izuku blinks again, and then Ms. Yamamoto is beside him, stooping to stroke her cat. "Can you do that?"
"Of course."
Ms. Yamamoto smiles and stops crying. Izuku blinks one last time, and opens his eyes to an empty kitchen with a purring cat at his feet.