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On the twenty-third of November, the Chat Noir Fan Club officially met for the first time. It was an incredibly prestigious and important event, where to get in, one had to sign their name – print was acceptable; few had actually perfected cursive at this time - take a pledge – “Chat Noir is my hero and has a purr-etty face” - and memorize the secret codeword – cataclysm, so secret that no one outside the club could possibly guess it. Seven girls and four boys showed up, as well as Patch the neighborhood cat (after being convinced to come inside the small shed the club was held in with a bit of catnip Martin brought from home), so twelve members total were recorded, all age six save for Samantha (a proud seven year old) and Patch (whose real age the world might never know). It was impressive, to say the least.
The meeting started once everyone was inside and signed up, proudly wearing homemade cat ears or tails in honor of their hero. The first order of business was to scrawl whiskers on each other’s faces with a permanent black marker. It was messy, crude, and a few members ended up with beards or mustaches, but overall a success. That complete, the club members then began creating letters and pictures with two sixty-four packs of crayons (the ones with sharpeners in them because of course this was a very elite club) to send to Chat Noir to tell him how much they loved him. Some drew his stick-figure image proudly, others drew sketched hearts and wrote I love you’s, and a few doodled pawprints and ladybugs and let him know they were rooting for him in his pursuit of Ladybug’s heart.
It doesn’t last very long; most members had naps to take and snacks to munch, so they wave and say goodbye and promise to meet the next weekend. Overall it was considered a success, and they all couldn’t wait for the next week.
In the next meeting, the members were buzzing with excitement after a recent akuma attack. They had crowded inside Samantha’s house around the computer, constantly refreshing the Ladyblog to watch their hero in his battle against evil. At last, the video is uploaded, and they quickly press play.
Ten minutes later, their happy, excited faces were replaced with disappointed frowns, grumpy scowls, and the threat of oncoming tears. Chat Noir had appeared in the video a single time, when using his cataclysm, and even that was cut off to watch Ladybug do her thing. The report beneath the video was full of nothing but praise for Ladybug (Samantha read while her mother corrected her pronunciations), without a single sentence about their beloved hero.
Obviously, this meant war.
The meeting after they went to work, using bits of cardboard Cody had snatched from his recycling to write how they felt. “We want Chat Noir!” one proclaimed. “Chat Noir’s our hero!” another declared. Cries for Chat Noir were scrawled down on the cardboard in neon green marker, the words spell-checked by Samantha, and though there were a few backwards r’s and smudged n’s, the members believed they got their point across.
Miss Alya, founder of the Ladyblog, was Tina’s babysitter, so she led the Chat Noir Fan Club members (including Patch, held struggling in Martin’s arms) to her house. Once they arrived, the held up their signs and shouted at the top of their lungs.
“Where’s Chat Noir?!”
“We want Chat Noir!”
“Chat Noir’s our hero!”
“Chat Noir’s the best!”
“You forgot Chat Noir!”
It took some time, but eventually Miss Alya opened the door and, after snapping a few pictures of her protesters, tried to make peace with the Fan Club. She apologized for not having so many shots of Chat, and promised to make more of an effort to include him in future reports. Satisfied that they had succeeded in their first club protest, the members went home happy and content.
At the next meeting, they were surprised and delighted to find themselves on the Ladyblog, holding up their cardboard signs. “Chat Noir fans stand up for their hero,” Samantha read, and the members cheered and high-fived. They had done it! They won!
Their cheering stopped at a knock on the door, and they crowded around to see who it was. Martin had the deepest voice, so he asked the intruder, “What’s the secret codeword?”
There was a pause, a soft chuckle, and then, “Would it happen to be… cataclysm?”
The members gasped and threw open the door, in wide-eyed amazement when there stood Chat Noir himself, grinning down at them. He waved, tail curling slightly as he looked them over. A moment passed, then two, and then there was a scream.
“You’re Chat Noir!”
In an excited wave of tiny arms and legs, the children launched themselves at him, to hug him or touch his tail or hold out one of their pictures for him to see. Chat laughed and kneeled down to their level, making sure to gift everyone (even Patch) an official Chat Noir hug and let them touch his suit as they pleased. He looked at each and every letter and picture, gathering them up and promising to put them all over his walls at home. He signed autographs on balls or favorite toys, on random pieces of paper and even on cheeks. Throughout it Chat was laughing and grinning, happy to see that he had fans who actually liked him for him and not for Ladybug.
Eventually they dragged him inside the shed, explaining that today’s game was Duck Duck Goose and insisting he be first. The members sat in a circle on the floor, and slowly Chat touched the top of each person’s head before selecting a “goose” and dancing around the circle. They played several rounds – he made sure other children were picked and not just himself – and Chat let them catch him every time.
The day slowly came to a close and Chat said he had to get going, but he asked when the next meeting would be and promised he would be there again since it was so much fun. Each member hugged him goodbye, sniffling slightly but he brushed away every tear with a wink and a grin. After giving them a salute, Chat took off for the Parisian rooftops.
Chat Noir always came to every meeting after, sometimes bringing gifts or snacks for his fan club to enjoy. They in turn would give him more drawings and advice on how to get Ladybug to like him. He let them “patrol” with him sometimes, and slowly Paris got used to the sight of Chat Noir being followed by a pack of children with whiskers on their faces while Ladybug stared, unsure whether to find it adorable or concerning (adorable, of course, and soon the club received an anonymous gift box of handmade Chat Noir hoodies with cat ears on top). She’s happy for her partner, and the grin on his face as he parades them around proudly is worth every extra pun from the Kitten Noirs.
Not many know this, but Chat Noir carries around three pictures in his pocket at all times. They are there to remind him why he fights, why he continues to do what he does, who he’s protecting. The first is of his classmates, their first class photo, with each new friend he had slowly and awkwardly made. The second is of Ladybug, a Ladyblog photo that he had decided did some justice to her radiance. The third and final, though, is of a group of children in cat-eared hoodies and a cat held in the middle, grinning up at the camera. They are the Chat Noir Fan Club, they are his Kitten Noirs, and they are why he fights.