The sun burned itself out against the waves. Black tailed gulls called out overhead, searching for an opportunistic meal. The sand was warm between his toes. Takoba beach had remained pristine after the completion of All Might's American Dream Plan, to Izuku's surprise. Maybe the people had kept it clean because it was no longer such a daunting task. Maybe feeling like they could make a difference was all they needed.

"So, what do you wanna do?" Nejire murmured against his neck.

He sat between her legs.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, squeezing him gently around the middle.

"I… I don't want to cry anymore." Twofold reason there. One, it hadn't accomplished anything. Two, his nose was painfully raw from all the tissues he'd run through in the past three days. All UA students had the Friday of the Sports Festival week off. The Final Event for the first years had been on Wednesday. He skipped Thursday. Today was Sunday, he'd have to go back tomorrow morning.

It had been four days since Rumi's death.

He'd been avoiding everyone. His mother. All Might. His friends. At one point he just turned his phone off. It was easier than explaining his absence. It would probably come back to bite him but it was better this way, at least for now.

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan. What about after that? You're a thinker, like me, so I know you've got more going on up there." She gently rapped her knuckles against his temple.

His lips twitched despite the dour mood. Nejire had a way of worming past someone's defenses to coax out a smile. It was one of her greatest talents.

Izuku ran a hand over his face. His shoulders felt so heavy. Like he'd taken over for Atlas, holding up the world, no respite in sight.

A little dramatic, don't you think? Stupid Deku.

"There's a lot to do, I guess." There really was. "I should really apologize to All Might… I was kind of, well… harsh." Izuku had kind-of-sort-of exploded at the Number One Hero. What made things worse was how the old man just sat there and bore it all, like it was his duty. He didn't get angry, or even frustrated. He just looked so defeated, so broken. Hollow.

He felt terrible, looking back at how it played out.

After that, he narrowly avoided a public meltdown thanks to three things. First, the tenuous fact that there was something of Rumi that still existed. All wasn't lost. Second, Nana Shimura. Rumi wasn't alone because Nana was there too – wherever there was – and she'd promised that the three of them would figure this out together.

Warmth. Confidence. Hope. Nana brushed against what remained of the now broken bond, soothing him as best she could.

Finally, Nejire had swooped in from nowhere and nyoomed him to one of the UA rooftops so he could break down with some privacy. How she knew he needed that was a mystery. As things turned out, she'd been not-stalking him for the last month. Studying was the word she'd used. He wasn't even the principal interest in her investigation, Mirko was, but she didn't have access to Mirko. Hence the not-stalking. According to her, she had formed a hypothesis about a preexisting relationship between himself and Mirko. She was right.

"Nejire?"

"Hmm?"

His exhausted brain sluggishly formed thoughts into words. "Why are you so convinced that Rumi… that she's still…" he just couldn't say it, "that Mirko is a good person? I know Ryukyu is on the League Task Force. You two are practically attached at the hip, so I know you've seen what Mirko's done. How many people she's…" He threw up his hands. It was a halfhearted gesture. "Just… why?"

Very faintly, almost imperceptibly, Nejire swayed from side to side, rocking Izuku. "She saved my life. She tried super duper hard too!"

"She broke your fingers." The sheer disbelief. "There, there has to be more." Help me find something. Please. "Nejire, she broke your jaw."

She held her left hand out in front of them. Her ring finger had an unnatural bend in it halfway between the second and third knuckles. "Indeedy-do, she did, she did." There wasn't a feathers touch of resentment, bitterness, or anger in her voice. "You said you saw her whole life?"

He grunted. That was a very tender subject right now. He'd already decided to stop crying, so he didn't want to push his luck with a verbal response.

"Then you saw how hard she fights to save people. Everyone, even me." She lazily worked her fingers, shedding motes of golden light that fizzled out on the breeze. "All I knew, when I first met Mirko, was that the police were having trouble with a villain in the middle of the worst urban fire in history. What I actually found was someone desperate to protect the strangers around her, regardless who they were, or the risk to herself." The golden motes became slender filaments, forming lazy corkscrews. Nejire laughed, somewhere between a snicker and a giggle. Soft and breathy. "Someone who so luckily knew, inside and out, the commission's procedures for search and rescue, triage, and emergency trauma medicine. That was quite convenient. She also had a giant chip on her shoulder, but you know all about that already."

Nejire wasn't wrong. Rumi did have that dumb saving-people-thing in spades. Just like All Might said: 'All great heroes have one thing in common, Young Midoriya; When it's down to the wire and there are lives on the line, their bodies moved before they ever had a chance to think.' He had no doubts that Rumi started as an incredible hero. The best of the best. That was never in question. Was she still a great hero? Was she still a good person? Did she still think she was a good person? "That's not… Heroes go rogue. It happens, and it's not like they leave behind what they've learned about heroics."

"Oh, Izuku," she let go of his waist, floating up and over him. Upside down, the tip of her nose bumped his before she floated a respectable distance away. "Sweet, spiraling, stupid Izuku." She reached out, smooshing his cheeks.

He frowned, "'m not schtupid."

"No, not really, but you're cranky right now. Rightfully, mind you, but still cranky." She hummed some snippet of some popular song as she worked something out in her mind. "For the sake of argument, let's ignore the fact that she's possibly passed on to the spooky beyond, and let's focus on you right now. I feel like we've spent a looooot of time on Rumi and not enough time on you."

Izuku hesitantly agreed, if only to humor her. She had put up with him for the last three days without complaint, so he owed her this much at the very least.

"So! There's this little rabbit shaped box in your heart that's empty right now." She poked him in the chest and went back to kneading his face. Nejire was… very weird. "The box says Rumi on the lid, but Rumi doesn't fit in the box anymore, does she?"

"Er…"

"Mirko definitely doesn't fit in that box either. You follow? So, what does fit?"

"I don't… know?"

Nejire caried on, visibly amused. "That's okay, give it a second!" She winked. "I'll give you a hint though. Rumi never fit in that little box."

He reached for her wrists hoping to pry her hands off his face. "But- what? I thought it said Rumi on the lid. Er… aren't you worried about all the blood going to your head?"

Quite smoothly, Nejire's hands . Her hands were warm around his wrists. "Nope! Bigger blood in brain makes bigger think, you see? You see." Still upside down, she beamed.

Izuku coughed. "… right… so, er, the box?"

"Oh! You haven't figured it out yet? I'm surprised at you! See, this is my surprised face." Her eyes popped open and she gasped.

Again, his lips twitched. He didn't laugh, but he conceded defeat with a small smile.

"Oh, fine, I'll tell you. Rumi never fit in the Rumi-Shaped-Box, and Mirko never did either. The only thing that ever did fit was your idea of Rumi."

She stared dramatically.

He stared confusedly. "… what?"

Instead of answering, Nejire's gentle grip on his wrist became iron. She braced her other hand on his shoulder. "HYAAAH!" She torqued her body hard, yanking Izuku off his butt, flipping him into the air, and slamming his back into the sand.

With the wind knocked out of him, Izuku flopped and floundered, quite like those fish unlucky enough to wash ashore, but not lucky enough to be quickly finished off by a hungry seagull. "God… why?!" He managed to choke out.

Nejire drifted lazily overhead, thoroughly pleased. She touched down weightlessly by his head, doubled over, laughing brightly. "Oh my god, you- your face- ha ha! I can't- I can't!" She laughed and laughed.

Once the breath rattled back into his chest, he found himself laughing for no other reason than Nejire was. It felt good. Spending time with Nejire felt good. In a way, she reminded him of Nana. A hero, strong and competent, never without a dazzling smile. He'd need to find a way to thank her.

"Hoo boy, that was good." Coming down from her high, she grinned down at him. "Oh man, sorry, but also not sorry. I was hoping to jog your brain. See, Ryuko helped me figure out that a little percussive maintenance is a great way to get un-stuck on a problem. So did it work? Did it? Huh?"

Speechless, all he could do was stare. What was wrong with this girl?

"Ah, I suppose it doesn't matter." She waved her hand. "What was I – heh – oh! Right! Izuku, you big dummy, you're trying to conflate the real Rumi with the Rumi you've built up in your heart. Of course she doesn't fit in that little box, because Box-Rumi isn't Real-Rumi. Box-Rumi is perfect. She's all the hopes and dreams, the love, the memories, everything about her that you cherish." Suddenly very serious, she crouched with her fingers laced together under her chin and her palms on her knees. "People are complicated, Izuku. From what you've described Rumi's been on a wild ride from day one. She isn't perfect. At all. And yeah, she's done some messed up stuff." Her fingers twitched. "But I firmly believe that Rumi is a good person and a great hero!"

She reached out and flicked his nose. "So stop dwelling on all the stuff you've just learned about and take a step back. Zoom out. With everything that you know, both the new information and the old, tell me: Do you think Rumi is a bad person?"

For someone so goofy, and ditzy, and just plain bizarre, Nejire made some damn good points. "No." He sounded more convinced than he felt. He'd need to think a lot more but… "She's… Rumi is a good person." It was relieving to say that aloud, even if Nejire had to lead him by the nose to that conclusion first. "She's a good person, and I- I want to save her. I will save her." He could do it. He would do it, and he wasn't going to let anyone or anything stop him, and he wasn't going to compromise his morals to do it either. It would be a narrow tightrope to walk, but how could he call himself a hero otherwise? Besides, he had support. Friends, like Nejire, and mentors, like All Might, who would be there to help him find his way.

Triumphant, she clapped her hands. "Finally! I was starting to worry that I'd misjudged your critical thinking skills or something. Oh, I'd have to redo my whole study. So many notes would need revising! Good thing you have a functional noodle, right?"

"You… you're very strange, Nejire, but… thank you. For everything."

"I know! It's fun, and you don't have to thank me, that's what friends are for!" She was sparkling. Literally. "Oh, and I don't presume to know what kind of relationship you have with Rumi, but she might not appreciate you peeking up my skirt. I mean, no judgement if you're both into that or something, or if she is, or you are. Wait, would that work? Hmm…"

Naturally, Izuku – who hadn't even thought of Nejire's skirt until she mentioned it – glanced down, er, up over his head. Between pale thighs he saw a flash of pastel pink stretched over… her…

You are such a stupid Deku. Nice view though.

Nostalgia. Joy. Amusement. He got the impression that somewhere, in the depths of One For All, Nana was cackling like a hyena. As if this wasn't embarrassing enough already. Unconsciously calling on his quirk, Izuku shot five meters up into the air. "N-n-no, I wasn't- you- b-but- I didn't- p-panties-" He crashed down in a boneless mess, quite red in the face. "Y-you flipped me- " To his horror, Nejire shed her shirt and skirt in the blink of an eye

"Just kidding, it's a bikini! Isn't it cute!? I think it's super cute!" She stood tall, arms akimbo, in pink bikini trimmed with thin black lace. She prattled on, a mile a minute about how she'd found it while shopping with her friends and how she totally didn't need another swimsuit, but this one was so cute, and it was in her size. It went on, and on, and on. She changed subjects and bounced off tangential thoughts so many times, and with such speed that he couldn't keep up. Somehow, she was now bombarding him with questions about his own quirk. Then came another sharp left turn in the one-sided conversation. "Oh yeah, I totally forgot! Night Swim! Come on, before the water gets too cold!" She darted through the air, snatching him up by the arms.

"Wait! Nejire! Wait, I don't have a swimsuit! And shouldn't you be getting home? It's getting pretty late, right? Please?!"

"NIGHT SWIM!" She chucked him into the surf before diving in like a penguin.

This girl was going to kill him. On the bright side, he was smiling again and his phone was waterproof.

Toshinori sat in the dark, alone, on the tiny balcony of his tiny apartment. It was warm and muggy. Wisps of sweet, leathery smoke curled out of his mouth. He carefully laid the cigar on the balcony rail. A crude habit, picked up from David Shield. He rarely partook. Rarer still after the loss of his left lung.

Young Midoriya had been so angry. Hurt. Betrayed.

He should have been transparent, from the very beginning. When he first met the boy, he seemed hopeless. Then he confronted the sludge villain, and Toshinori saw. The determination hiding in the forest of insecurity and fear, it was strong, and it inspired his battered old heart. Izuku had a wonderful smile, fueled by a powerful spark of kindness and empathy. He had the potential. He would grow into a great hero and a good man. Of this Toshinori was certain.

But he was an old fool. Much like his relationship with Sir Nighteye, he'd managed to put his foot in this one too. He should have been honest, he told himself for the hundredth time. That little spark in Young Midoriya was so precious, so rare. He was afraid that the boy would lose it if he knew.

"All For One." He stared at his hand, slowly curling it into a fist before letting it go limp. Young Midoriya was fully justified in his anger.

Oh, the things he saw while he sat beside the comatose boy, mere days ago. Hints and whispers of events only just passed. The shattered memories of Young Usagiyama railing against the darkness in the only way she could. The creeping webs of All For One's influence, twisting the world into his plaything behind the scenes. From the very beginning, the young woman had no chance. He was supposed to be the worlds symbol of peace and justice. He was meant to protect. To defend little ones from the grasping tendrils of Evil. To guide and nurture the next generation as they grew into their own power.

Little Rumi bounced around her room, strangling her Silver Era All Might plushie so hard that one of the seams burst. All Might was on the radio! All Might!

He shivered, cursing himself. That poor girl, and Young Midoriya had to feel it all, right up to her final moments. It was a wonder he hadn't thrown himself from a rooftop or gone on a rampage.

It was there, suddenly, soft and gentle: "No matter how scary things get, give 'em a smile." There was no tone to the voice, no inflection, nothing recognizable beside the words themselves.

His chair clattered back. "No… Nana?" He searched, confused, alarmed, and with the barest sliver of hope. He was alone, he was sure of it. Was he starting to crack in his old age? Had he finally reached the limit of his spirit?

"People who can smile are always the strongest, Toshi." The words were fainter this time.

It was Nana! His mentor! It was her! Carefully, oh so carefully, Toshinori focused, hesitantly reaching for the embers of One For All. He fanned them as much as he dared, urgency tempered by the knowledge that their enemies were stirring, and young Midoriya was so unprepared.

She was here. With him, he could feel it. She was incredibly faint, but she was here! He'd hoped beyond hope that the blurred impression of Nana, the one from Young Rumi's memories had been real. That she lived on in some way within the quirk she bestowed on him.

"Chin up Toshi." Her voice. "Smile!" Her voice. It was there, in his ear, as though she were right next to him on this cramped balcony, just out of sight.

"Nana? How?! Is- is it really you?"

She laughed, warm and kind. Perfect.

Toshinori fell to his knees. "It is you!" One For All began to slip away. Alarmed, he carefully adjusted his grasp on the dying quirk. It didn't seem to matter though.

Just as suddenly as she arrived, Nana's warmth began to fade. "Izuku needs you." The words were growing faint. "Rumi needs you. Trust them. Trust yourself, Toshi."

"No, wait, don't go! I have so many questions! It's been so long! Nana?!"

"Hold hope in your heart… because I will always believe in you!"

She was gone.

Just like that.

Toshinori sat back on his heels, gripping at his heart. Tears flowed freely. In a flash, he stretched and swelled to his full height. Nana was still there. In One For All. Some of Young Usagiyama's memories made more sense now. Nana had always been there. Watching. Guiding. Caring. Loving. From the instant she chose him to inherit.

All For One failed. He didn't succeed in killing his mentor. She lived on. Her ideals and her heart survived death. A wide and honest grin spread across All Might's face. He boomed with laughter as he cried. He'd carried the torch. He passed it on. He won. Nana won. Izuku would win.

His cigar, forgotten, burned out quietly in the night.

The backlog of paperwork was quite possibly the worst aspect of spending five weeks in a coma. Sure, getting his wings blasted off sucked. The physical therapy sucked. The assassination of the commissions upper chain of command really sucked. Then there was the mess of the failed assassination attempt against himself, the skyrocketing crime rates, the stagnation of the headless commission, plummeting public opinion, and the extremely concerning contract that had been struck between the National Police Commission and the Shingen Security Division.

But the paperwork, good god, the paperwork was unforgiving. Hawks smacked his forehead into his desk. "Don't I have people for this?" He groaned and resolved to get back to it after a quick powernap.

Someone knocked on the door.

His wings were trashed, which meant his extended spatial awareness was trashed, so he had no idea who was there. "C'mon in." Please don't come in. He groaned, expecting more paperwork.

A bright-eyed sidekick, one who Hawks had never met before, cracked open the door and poked her head in. "Mr. Hawks, sir! Good morning!"

Hawks blinked slowly. "Good morning to you. Did you, ah… have something?" Please god, not more paperwork.

"Oh, right! I'm so sorry to interrupt – I'm a huge fan by the way – but your new intern is here. Should I show him in or run him through the standard orientation?"

What on earth? Hawks hadn't accepted any interns. He'd never sent out any offers, hell, he'd only woken up during the Sports Festival. He smiled. "Ah, actually, would you bring me his- "

She shot out her arm, manila folder in hand. "Here you are, sir!"

"- file… right. Thank you. I assume he's just outside?" Let's play Assassin or Anyone Else, Japan's favorite gameshow. There was a comfortably large 'lobby' just outside his office. Quick access to the stairs, windows, and elevator. Big enough to fly through unhindered, small enough to not come across as egomaniacal.

"Yes, sir!"

He resisted the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Well, I'll fetch him after I look this over." He gestured at the file. "You can go back to your duties, uh… look, no offense, but I have no idea who you are."

She shivered with excitement, squeaking out "My name is Peregrine, sir! I'm on the Op Management team and it's an honor to meet you! Let me know if you need anything at all, sir!" before skittering off to god knows where.

Hawks felt a headache coming on. He considered leafing through the file but thought better of it. He honestly didn't care. There was enough for him to worry about right now without this added to the pile. The clock tick along for about five minutes before he sighed and finally opened the file. Despite his grumpy outlook it was impossible to resist that almost neurotic need for intel. The name at the top of the form dragged a groan out of him. "Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding…"

He stood, snatched his cane, and limped to the door. He swung it open awkwardly. "Midori-" The right hook caught him completely off guard. Stupid nubby wings and their lack of stupid feathers. He staggered back, dropped the cane and fell to a knee.

"Oh my god! Mr. Hawks!" Peregrine shrieked.

There were sounds of a scuffle. In the short time that Hawks had looked away, his sidekick had thrown Izuku Midoriya to the ground and wrestled the kid into a submission hold. "I am SO sorry Mr. Hawks, sir! I'll get him out of here immediately!"

The kid's eyes bugged out and his mouth worked like he was a fish out of water. Like he didn't believe that A, his punch connected, and B, he'd punched Hawks in the face. It was actually pretty funny.

"Wait, wait," he rubbed at his jaw with a groan, "I know him." Goddamn, kid, you grew some balls. Holy hell. "And I probably deserved that."

Peregrine squawked. "But SIR-"

He stumbled to his feet and held up a hand. "It's fine, Peregrine, really. Let him up." If you both could get the hell out, that'd be great for my headache.

Midoriya looked equal parts ashamed and confused as Peregrine haltingly dragged him to his feet. She hadn't let him out of the arm bar though. Smart cookie.

"C'mon, let him go. All the way, it's fine." He looked the kid in his big watery eyes and felt a craving for ginger candy. "Damn, Kid, what the hell has Inko been feeding you? That right could knock over a building." Oh, my poor, poor head. Never, ever do that shit again you brat. Fucking hell. Midoriya hit like a goddamn truck. He hadn't been in a coma for that long, had he? The Boy had always been kind of shrimpy.

"I'msosorry!" Izuku squeaked. "Idon'tknowwhatcameovermeIjust-"

"Woah, woah, woah," He stooped for his cane, painfully aware of how pitiful he looked, "Izuku. Chill for like, five seconds." Too. Goddamn. Loud. Being injured still wasn't on-brand for the Hawks Agency. Maybe he needed to revise his branding. Taking a deep breath to ward off his exasperation, Hawks smiled. "Peregrine, could you give us some privacy?"

"Er… Sir, I'm not so sure-"

He waved her off cheerfully. Wing Hero: Hawks, at your service! "Really, it's fine, Midoriya and I go back a few years. He's a good kid, why d'you think I hand picked him as my first intern?" I'll play along kid, but I'm going to run you into the ground along the way. As soon as this headache stops.

"What?" Both Peregrine and Midoriya stuttered out at the same time. They whirled around to look at one another. It was all pretty comical.

"Right, so I see no problem here. Peregrine, if you would?" He nudged her towards the door with the head of his cane.

"But, but, but-"

"Ah, no buts! Do me a favor and set up Midoriya with payroll when you get some free time. No rush." He turned and hooked Midoriya's shoulder with the cane. "And you, come in and have a seat." He beamed, eyes closed. "We have some catching up to do." He shut the door in his sidekick's face. Probably a bit harder than he needed to. He hoped she wasn't offended. He turned, pressed his back to the door, and slid down to the floor. "Never, ever, ever hit me that hard so soon after leaving a coma. Holy shit, kid." My head is going to fucking explode. Huh. Wouldn't that be an ironic way to go. Just like Stabby McNeedles.

Izuku, awkward dork that he was, stood like a deer in the headlights. "Er… I… sorry?"

This kid… "Get the lights and sit your ass down."

He hurriedly found the switch and knelt with his hands balled up on his knees. From frightened deer in front of a car to frightened student in front of an irate sensei. At least it was darker in here now. The relief was almost immediate. The pounding in his temples had reduced to a dull roar. "Just… why?" He held up his hand immediately. "Wait, don't answer that." They sat in silence as Hawks rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He sighed.

Midoriya twitched nervously.

"You're here about Rumi. That's why you clocked me. Right?" I'd hit me too, kid.

It took a while for him to answer, but somewhere along the way Midoriya lost that boyish anxiety and took on something far more grim. Serious. "Rumi's dead." Was all he said.

Hawks stilled.

Above the door, the clock ticked away.

TICK

He took a breath.

TOCK

Compartmentalize and act. Compartmentalize and act.

TICK

Besides, you already knew. You just didn't want to admit it.

TOCK

The mountain of evidence was telling. She never missed a window, even after you got sidelined by a human bomb.

TICK

Sloppy, lazy, careless Rumi. Always late, never early. Until you got her hooked on field work. Where she found out she was perfect. Punctual to a tee. Her reports were flawless. Her skills without question.

TOCK

How many windows has she missed since the sports festival? Two? Three? You already knew.

TICK

This is not new information. You need to accept it and move on. Compartmentalize and act.

TOCK

Hawks nodded. He closed his eyes. "I know." The room grew heavy. He and Midoriya both withdrew into their own little worlds. "I know, kid. I know." Enough was enough. He hauled himself up, cursing his lack of feathers. His balance was all over the place. "Come on. Let's get you set up."

Midoriya stood carefully. "Set up?"

"For your internship. By the way, I'm going to grind you to a pulp over the next week." He limped to his desk. "Sometime around next Friday, while on a training operation in, say, Sapporo, you're going to tragically break your femur." The leather desk chair was so inviting. It tempted him with the promise of a quick nap. He nudged it out of the way with his cane, so he could lean over the desk in peace.

"I'm… What? My femur?" The kid looked alarmed. Rightfully so.

The keyboard clacked softly. "Yeah. It'll be a whole ordeal. We won't have access to Recovery Girl from so far away, so we'll just have to make due with less potent healing quirks. Should take three days or so to get back on your feet. Ten days total." He paused, going over the ad hoc schedule in his head. "Probably as far as we can stretch things before UA gets suspicious. Though they aren't the most perceptive bunch anyway."

"I- I'm sorry, Hawks, I don't understand."

He stared the kid down. The clock ticked away. "Yes. You do." He held the stare for a moment longer, until Midoriya nodded. "Good. Now come on. Let's get you outfitted by the Support Department." He limped past Midoriya at a good clip. Having a clear goal was more revitalizing that he expected.

Midoriya hurried to open the office door for him. Polite.

Hawks slapped his hand onto the door, stopping the kid in his tracks. "The signature wasn't bad. Letterhead was perfect. But for fuck's sake, if you're going to forge a document at least get the address right. The building number is one four nine, not one nine four. Shit like that will get you killed." He grinned at the spluttered, half-assed denial. He tottered out of the office, leaving Midoriya behind to restart his brain. "Oi, hurry up. We're on a tight schedule, intern!"

"R-Right! Coming, sir!"

"He deserves to die."

Nana rubbed at her temples. "For what must be the hundredth time, that is not for you to decide."

"Sucks for someone else then, 'cause I decided a while ago. Shigaraki dies."

"Rumi…"

"What?" They'd been at this for an eternity. Entirely because Nana refused to let it go. Stubborn bitch. She ignored the little voice that was laughing at her frustration, mocking her for struggling with someone as stubborn as herself.

"You're a hero. You took an oath. There are rules, Rumi." Nana crossed her arms, outwardly calm, though every so often she pursed her lips. "Intervening to save a life is one thing but choosing to end one makes you no different than All For One. What gives you the right? On who's authority would you be acting? Your own?"

"Don't preach to me about rules, you were a vigilante until the year before you died. Fuck right off your high horse." Rumi paced.

Nana stood tall. Mountainous. Undisturbed.

Bright yellow eyes flickered with barely restrained fury. "He's a murderer. A wannabe archvillain with grand delusions of suicide by apocalypse. All For One's enabling him to destroy everything. Literally." Rumi threw her arms up. "How the fuck do you not see this!?"

Nana held up a yellow gloved finger. "First, It was a different time. There were no licensed heroes, we've been over this. Second, I know what he is, and what All For One is doing. We all know now, thanks to you."

Rumi's featureless face twisted into a sneer. "Fat lot of good that does. The seven of you dead fucks are utterly useless." Violet skin roiled and popped. Boiling vapor rose in agitated patterns. "And if it was such a 'different time' then your experiences don't apply to mine, so: Kindly. Fuck. Off."

"You're stuck in here with us, or have you forgotten?" Nana shrugged off the barbs without a hint of acknowledgement. Utterly infuriating woman.

"Oh, I had forgotten, thank you so much for the reminder, Nana!" Rumi snapped, voice sugar sweet with shards of glass mixed in. "You are not going to change my mind. I decided well before I died, thanks." Shigaraki, a fucking nutcase, normally wouldn't have warranted a second glance, but the fucker threatened her family. Izuku. On top of that, the things that Rumi saw in All For One's mind….

Shigaraki. Had. To. Die.

Her mind was made up. She had the conviction. Even if the deed landed her in Tartarus, it had to be done. She was going to claw her way out of One For All – method to be determined – get her body back, and disintegrate Shigaraki with his own goddam hands. Then she was going to retire. Probably to a prison cell, but hey. Sacrifices needed to be made sometimes.

With a snort, Nana muttered something. "Well, at least your charming personality made it to the afterlife intact."

"Another thing I should thank you for, you really bring out the best in me." It had taken some time for Rumi to feel more like herself after waking inside One For All. It had been slow going. Until now. The floodgates were wide open and Rumi was utterly unapologetic.

"God, was I this insufferable as a teenager?"

"No, someone as righteous as you would have been way bitchier." Rumi stared at the back of Nana's head, deeply unsatisfied. She just wouldn't take the bait. She never did. They'd argued in circles about this for what felt like days. She hoped that timeframe was wrong. The longer she was trapped in here, the longer All For One had to fuck up everything. She needed to get out. Now. Yesterday, even.

"You're quite opinionated for a woman with a fulfilled deathwish." Nana said it easily.

Rumi's skin tensed. A wave of needle-like static swept over her, giving her a jagged outline for a fleeting moment. "What?" The hiss was deathly quiet.

"You heard me." She looked up from where she sat, boredom etched into her face. "You burn down anything I say if it isn't agreeable, and you're so quick to use my flaws as the fuel." Nana looked up at Rumi, with something akin to pity in her eyes. "You excel at ignoring your own flaws. It's not a good look on you."

"At least I'm trying to do something."

"Like trying to convince a dead woman that you should be the one to take the life of someone else? That you, out of countless dead, are somehow more worthy of returning to life so you can take a life?" Nana spoke calmly, respectfully even, but she never gave Rumi a chance to interject. "I've said it before: there are no secrets here. I know why you died."

Rumi blinked. She started quietly. "Wow, are you serious? Uh, hello, earth to Nana? How I died isn't a mystery. Or did you miss how that motherfucker ran me through a goddamn chipper-shredder?" By the end she was shrieking.

Nana was silent for some time. She sat still, with a sad set to her shoulders. Nana was always sad, even when she smiled or laughed. It was the worst kind of sadness because it was always there, even though Nana had her shit together. She looked sad, but she never looked inconsolable. She kept smiling, always, despite the deep aching sadness that permeated everything she was. It reminded her of Izuku. Rumi hated that more than anything. At least, anything in here.

"The how of your death was never in question." Nana kept her eyes fixed on the non-existent horizon. "The why, well… like I said, why's are always complicated."

There was a precipitous moment where Rumi wanted to run far, far away. She didn't like where this was going. "The hell are you on about?" The regret was sharp. Why the fuck did I open my mouth?

Nana took a slow, deep breath. "Peudoendotrizine, desoxyn, and norepinephrine. Three potent drugs all rolled into a convenient injector. My generation called it Hyper. It was our Trigger, I suppose." She was almost meditative in her calm.

Rumi snarled, instantly aggravated to new heights. "That has fuck-all to do with anything. We were discussing what to do about Shigaraki, remember?" That sad, pitiful, knowing smile had the base of hear ears puff up, or would have had they still been on her head. She wanted to fight. Someone, anyone, hell, she'd take Nomu over what felt like the beginning of an intervention from Nana Shimura.

"We were. Now, we're discussing you." Nana was firm. "It started reasonably, just like it always does. You first used it in battle. The fight wasn't over. You were hurt. You needed to save everyone. No one could blame you for that. But that's not where it ended, was it, Rumi?"

She said nothing, pacing back and forth like a caged animal, and she fucking knew that's what she looked like. At least she was behind Nana, though there was probably some One For All fuckery that let the older woman know exactly what she was doing and feeling at any moment.

"You were having nightmares. About Kamino. About Himiko Toga. About the choices you've made. The desoxyn kept you awake, but it didn't do anything about the crippling fatigue. The norepinephrine did though. It gave you that kick you needed to feel awake. It helped with the brain fog. Kept you alert. But it got harder and harder to function without it."

"I was not having nightmares." She hissed.

Nana smiled a non-smile. "I've been watching you for a long, long time Rumi. You've always had nightmares."

"So fucking what? Lots of people do, or are you too perfect to understand that?"

"Prolonged use of desoxyn in high doses hurts dopamine production in the brain. Using synthetic adrenaline for too long atrophies the adrenal glands. You stopped feeling satisfied. No sense of reward for accomplishing things. No feelings of excitement anymore. So, you kept using Hyper, even when you didn't need it. You didn't feel normal without it."

Rumi reached up to rip her ears off her head. Their absence only compounded her frustration as she clawed at her scalp. "Shut. Up." This was bullshit. She didn't want to hear another word. She didn't go through the last three years for this. She didn't survive childhood to be lectured by a dead woman about doing what she had to do.

"The pseudo is the worst of the three. The strongest non-narcotic pain blocker ever synthesized, it made all those inconvenient aches and pains meaningless. No pain meant no consequences. It compromised your judgement. It killed your fear. Sound right so far?"

"I said shut up! You're a fucking vigilante and a corpse, not a shrink, so what the fuck do you know!?"

"I know everything about you." Nana stood with a sigh. "When you died, I lived your life through your eyes. I saw, I felt, I heard… well, everything. We all did."

The frustration was overriding. That was probably a good thing, because Rumi was torn between screaming, crying, hyperventilating, and lashing out at Nana's perfectly sad smile. She was breathing hard, though she no longer needed to breathe. Habits of the living. "We?" She stood, arms wide, expectant.

"The six predecessors before me. Myself. Toshi." Nana, tall, beautiful, strong, and confident, turned to look down at Rumi. On the outside, she was everything Rumi had ever hoped to be as a hero. Funny, how things worked out. "Izuku."

No. No, no, no, no. Bullshit, this was all bullshit. It wasn't happening. Her gut clenched. The anger fled, leaving strangling anxiety and poisonous fear behind. He couldn't have seen. That, there wouldn't be anything left of them if he did. He wasn't supposed to know!

"You started taking risks. More so than usual. Starting fights without a clear exit strategy. Without backup."

"My backup got blown to fucking pieces-"

"Taunting death. Flirting, even. But you didn't retreat. You never retreat. You dove deeper into the League. Into the role you were playing. Mirko was becoming more and more real, wasn't she?"

"The FUCK was I supposed to do?!" Her throat was getting tighter.

"You're strong, Rumi. Experienced beyond your years. Powerful. Smart. Few veteran pros could have accomplished what you've already done. You're also a child. You knew, Rumi, that you couldn't do this by yourself. You knew well before you went undercover. So why didn't you go to the police. The Pros. All Might. You chose to shoulder it all by yourself, more pressure than any one person could withstand. Why?"

"I- I wasn't alone- "

"Izuku Midoriya was not in the right place, physically, or mentally, to help you in the way that you needed. Neither was Hawks."

"Oi! He didn't do anything wrong!"

"No, he didn't." Nana agreed. "But there was only so much he could have done. Hawks was no better off than you had his own demons to fight."

"Y'know what? Fuck. You. Nana. You try going undercover with a bunch 'a fucking murderers, lose everything that proves your identity, and then you try going to the fucking cops to get out!" She swung.

Nana leaned to the side, effortlessly dodging the punch. She didn't even move her legs.

"I did my fucking best!" She swung again, and again. Nothing landed. Nana was untouchable. "I tried!" Her voice cracked. "I saved hundreds of people!"

Nana caught her wrists as effortlessly as she'd dodged Rumi's punches. "I know you did, Rumi. You were incredible." Something new, a hint of bitterness, wormed its way into that perfect smile. "What hurts the most, I think, is that you ignore all the good you've done to torture yourself over the bad."

"Let go, LET GO! GET OFF ME!" She strained and screamed and thrashed. It would have been easier to lift a mountain. Eventually, she gave up. She couldn't get out, no matter how hard she struggled. "What do you want?" She sobbed.

"I want you to be honest with yourself. You're so incredibly good at rooting out lies. You never let anyone use dishonesty against you. You excel at it, and at the same time, you lie to yourself at every waking moment. What choice did you make when you confronted All For One?"

Rumi sagged. "I… I can't…"

"You can. I know you can. You're Rumi, nothing can stop you." Nana murmured against the top of her head. She hugged her loosely.

"I hate you." She felt disgustingly weak, pathetic, as she clung to Nana like driftwood in the open ocean. "I h-hate you so much." Rumi ground out thickly.

"I know. And that's okay. Your feelings are valid."

She cried in Nana's arms. It was ugly. She didn't feel any better afterwards. She turned away.

Nana let her go.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do? I was forgetting that Toga was a monster. I wanted to be Kurogiri's only friend. I was helping Shigaraki slaughter people. Fuck sake, Kamino burned because of me. All those people…"

"Rumi- "

"No. You wanted me to be honest, so you get to sit there and listen. You don't get to say shit until I'm done, got it?!"

Nana sighed but nodded.

It took a moment for Rumi to keep going. "I… I liked being a villain." Shame. Disgust. Self-loathing. "It was… I was free. I could save people without oversight. I didn't need to ask permission over a radio before acting. I took apart one of the most entrenched Yakuza families in Yokohama, I did good, goddamnit!" She heaved, with the knowledge that she didn't believe that last part, no matter how loudly she said it.

"I did good, only… I wasn't. Not really. I'm fucking great at hurting people." She snorted. "Need someone's knees broken? Call me. Need to put someone in a wheelchair for the next sixty years? I can do that. It's- I'm no fucking different from Toga. Or Shigaraki. Or any villain, take your pick. I'm good at hurting people, and I like it. I like the rush. The thrill of winning against someone that's trying to kill you. I felt so fucking powerful." She mimed stabbing a needle into her thigh. "Click. Click. Click. Guess not feeling the pain did help..."

"There wasn't any way out. Not that I could see. So, I guess I was just telling myself I was free." Did she want to say this? Fuck no. Was she ready? Again, fuck no. But the fucked up emotional-baggage cat was out of the bag. If Nana already knew, then there was no point in lying. If… If Izuku knew… fuck. "Part of it… I didn't want to admit that my mom was right. She was always afraid that I'd fall in with the wrong crowd. From like… day one. It always hurt, but fuck me, she was right in the end."

"There was just no way… I couldn't- I tried, I actually did." That part was true. She had tried to find a way out, though, she couldn't find a clean one. A way that could get her out without discarding all the work she'd put into infiltrating the League. If she pulled out and Shigaraki went to ground, then everything would have been for nothing. Rumi couldn't just discard all that work. The trauma. The deaths.

"You know better than most how fucking hopeless it is to stand against All For One. How goddamn pointless it is." She sat heavily, pulling her knees to her chest.

Nana sat gently, an arm's length away. "I do." Her legs dangled over the vast nothing below.

"Well," Rumi laughed, short and caustic, "I found my way out. All For One. It was perfect. Eventually, people would have figured out the how. The where, and the when. No problem. The why was supposed to die with me. I wasn't afraid." She glared at her only companion. "I looked All For One in the face and chose to die because I fucking wanted to die. Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you fucking happy, Nana?"