Mirko's left eye swelled shut two minutes ago. A black bandana clung to her face, wetted by seeping blood from a broken nose. From her blind spot, a lightning barrage of punches grazed her side and flung her against the wall of the cage. The Underground Masquerade howled for blood – her blood – but the mire of voices condensed to meaningless static in her pulsing ears. With her good eye she saw the entire world vibrate through a blizzard of white starbursts. She hit the mat hard.

"Rumi. Please. Stop this!" Izuku shoved his hand through the cage to grasp hers. He had to mash his face against the cage to reach her. With her head turned the way it was, his big watery eyes were about all she could see. He looked like such a dork in his All Might branded balaclava.

Her brother gripped the cage with both hands, palms crackling like firecrackers, "Stay the fuck down you idiot!" A ragged black domino mask covered the upper half of his face.

"One. Two." The referee slapped the cage by her head with each number.

There wasn't time to waste. Get up, get up, get up! She rolled onto her back, away from Izuku's pleading and Katsuki's demands. Her face left a red smear on the mat as she went.

"Three."

Somehow, she got an arm under her and levered herself up. On her knees, she had to brace herself as her vision swam, darkening at the edges. It was so hard to lift her head.

"Four. Five. Six."

"Don't give up now, get up and fight me!" Rappa bounced on the balls of his feet in the ring's opposite corner. He snapped off a quick burst of jabs at the air.

Rumi stared at him dully, she could almost see straight again. She hoped Rappa appreciated how much effort it took to turn her head right now. He probably would, since he was being so polite, waiting for her to get ready before he broke her face. Again. Rappa was an honorable fighter, in a strange and bloodthirsty way. She was lucky he hadn't stayed on her after she went down.

"Seven! Eight!"

Rumi clawed her way up the cage. Her joints ached; she was sure she'd broken something in her right hand. Her right knee was on fire, but it didn't matter, she was almost up. She clenched her jaw and hissed, everything hurt. She was convinced now that anyone who claimed they 'pushed through the pain' to keep fighting was one-hundred-percent full of shit. She made it to her feet, swaying deliriously. Lifting the bottom of her bandana, she blew a blood clot the size of a leopard slug out her nose. Disgusting, but now she could breathe a bit easier.

"Rumi - ack-" Izuku's strangled yelp snatched her attention. She turned and saw only death.

Inko Midoriya stood ringside, her son held firmly in a headlock, breathtaking in her severity. She wore a chunky nylon duty belt slung low around her hips. On it sat a transparent plastic slip which held her license; The word 'HERO', spelt in large golden letters, gleamed under the sodium lights.

Oh.

Mitsuki Bakugo stood next to Inko, eerily calm. Her fluffy pink cardigan was wildly out of place among the Masquerade's audience. Katsuki glowered just behind their mother, hands in pockets.

Oh, fuck me. That's it, they were made. It was over. Rumi knew that she was about to be hauled out of the ring by her ears, everything else be damned. How the hell did they even know to come here?

"Rumi Usagiyama," Mitsuki's expression was placid but her hands shook violently, "Get out here. Now."

Hostile whispers danced in Rumi's head. Protect Bunny, coddle Bunny, don't let anything scare Bunny. Did someone hurt Bunny's feelings? Better drop everything and do something about it. No, it's okay, precious little baby Bunny doesn't need to fight her own battles. She glared with bitter resentment welling in her gut.

Katsuki was ready and willing to scrap with anyone at the drop of a hat. Did anyone make a big deal about it? No, he got a scolding, and everyone moved on. Izuku was bullied by their classmates on the daily. Did Inko bend over backwards to make it stop? Was Inko kicking down the principal's door over it?

God forbid Rumi come home with a busted lip or a bloody nose, no, that was unacceptable. That needed an intervention. Therapists, parent teacher conferences, doctor appointments. Katsuki could come home missing a goddamn arm and he'd get a smack upside the head for starting another fight. It wasn't fair, and it seriously pissed her off.

She had a choice to make and she knew she wasn't thinking straight, not after getting her bell rung by Rappa. She really should forfeit the match before she did anything foolish. Well, anything else. But… she'd already been beaten half to death, and she'd already been caught; the consequences were going to be unpleasant regardless of what she did now.

The situation was fucked. Might as well go all in, right? Besides that, she'd already put both Katsuki and Izuku through the emotional wringer, how could she ever face them if she backed out after dragging them down with her? Was she so afraid of the consequences of her actions that she would refuse to follow through?

No. Fuck that.

Rumi faded, and Mirko raised her guard.

Rappa charged, beaming, and launched a volley of jackhammer blows so fast she couldn't distinguish the individual strikes.

Mitsuki and Inko were yelling something that she tuned out. Whatever they had to say didn't matter right now, she had bigger concerns. Like not getting her skull popped in front of her family and her best friend.

"You're tough as hell, Mirko, and strong! You're the first I haven't wiped with one hit and I respect the hell out of that".

She planted her feet and jerked her body rightwards, bending sharply at the waist.

"But I've won four fights today, and you, you're gonna be number five!"

She shot upright again, only to snap the other way to avoid another volley. She wasn't tough like Rappa claimed, not really, but she was just fast enough to duck out of the way of damn near everything he could throw. This rope-a-dope defense was the only thing that kept her in the fight so long. It wasn't a perfect defense though, a few glancing blows had landed despite her agility, and each one cost her dearly.

One of those glancing blows had seriously mangled her face, and if Rappa got another shot off at her head, she might die before she hit the mat. Wasn't that a sobering thought? She was starving for an opening, she needed one to get a solid hit in. Anything to give even the slightest chance of winning.

What had Izuku said when they watched Rappa's earlier fight? "Woah, he's so fast! But it looks like he has trouble tracking his targets once he starts punching. It's like there's a disconnect, or like his muscles are lagging his brain. Maybe his quirk makes his arms move so fast that he doesn't have the strength to track his target once commits to a punch? Wait, look, he's favoring his right side, is he hurt? There, under his arm, he's bleeding! Even so, his blows are coming so fast that his opponent can't even take advantage of the injury…"

Rappa took an aggressive step and pivoted into a haymaker.

Mirko ducked straight down, and his right fist tore a hole in the chain link cage. The ragged edges of the hole snagged at the wrappings on his forearm, and for just a moment he had to stop throwing punches to free himself.

Wait, look, he's favoring his right side, is he hurt? There, under his arm, he's bleeding! "Thanks, nerd!" She struck at his ribs - just under his armpit - with a cruel heel kick. Something cracked.

Rappa backpedaled, giving up ground that Mirko desperately needed. He ripped his hand free and brought his arms up to strike.

Mirko refused to let him; this was her only shot. She jumped and planted her right foot into Rappa's hip, using his own body to stage her next kick. She pushed off into the air, whipped her whole body around to the left and slammed her other heel into his jaw, just under his ear. She landed on her feet.

Rappa staggered forward. He threw a few stuttering punches aimed at nothing as he fell, but once he was down, he went still.

It was over.

She found Izuku in the crowd. He always looked so concerned, so she should probably tell him that she was fine. The room tilted sideways as Mirko took a step. She hit the mat just seconds after Rappa.

The smell of antiseptic and the soft chirping of an ECG machine told her she was in a hospital before she ever opened her eyes. Then the fatigue and the soreness hit. Her lower back ached in the way it would after sleeping all day long. She itched, she wanted to stretch, and she felt grimy from ear to toe. She wanted badly to take a shower.

With heroic effort she cracked her eyes open. One of them, her left, had gauze taped over it. It grabbed at her eyelashes in an unpleasant way. She could see the boys seated against the wall to the right. They'd traded their masks and casual clothes for school uniforms. The late afternoon sun slipped through the blinds to rake across their faces. Izuku's hoard of freckles stood out sharply and Katsuki's perfect skin almost glowed in the warm light. The room was filled with the soft scritch-a-scritch of pencils, occasionally interrupted by a murmured question or a shuffled paper.

The peace was a beautiful sight; It made her chest clench in a strange way. Or maybe that was because of the morphine sulphate drip. Everything did feel sort of dull and fuzzy. They hadn't noticed she was awake yet, so she wanted to say something appropriately cool or witty to get their attention. She only managed a sort of wheezing croak. God, her throat was dry. It sure got their attention though. There was a still moment where they stared at her with wide eyes. Surprise, relief, joy.

Izuku's body caught up with his brain and he leapt out of his chair. Papers and notebooks fell haphazardly from his lap. "Rumi – gak, Kacchan!" Katsuki caught the front of his collar and twisted the fabric tight. A brass button popped off and clattered onto the floor.

Katsuki pulled Izuku's head down, so he had to bend at the waist, and made him wait as he carefully set aside his homework and slowly rose from his seat. He kept his arm low, forcing Izuku to stoop and crane his neck to look up at him. "Get a nurse, Deku." He released Izuku with a shove.

The boy flailed his arms to keep his footing but squared his shoulders once he regained it. His knuckles went white.

She blinked. That had to be the drugs messing with her. Never before had Izuku gotten mad when Katsuki abused him. He'd get frustrated, sure, but never while Katsuki was still in earshot. Rumi watched them stare each other down; He looked determined with his deep frown and flushed cheeks. Maybe he was going to put his foot down for once. Izuku hesitated though, and she watched the words she wanted him to say die on the tip of his tongue.

His whole bearing collapsed, his shoulders slumped, and the hard set of his jaw relaxed. He looked down. He gave up.

Disappointed, Rumi sighed. You idiot. You were so close.

"You aren't the only one who cares, Kacchan."

"Get. A. Fucking. Nurse."

Izuku turned to go. He stopped at the door, and Rumi barely heard his muttering, but the warmth behind his words made her heart thump. "I'm glad you're awake."

The door clicked shut. She blinked slowly, taking in more detail as she became more wakeful. She drowsily eyed Katsuki.

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh. He rummaged in his bag, concentrating harder than he should have to, to pull out a water bottle.

She eyed it greedily, licking at the dry roof of her mouth.

"Welcome back, reject." He uncapped the bottle and shoved it in her face. She croaked her thanks and made to grab the bottle. Halfway there, her arm stopped with a clank. What? The steady beeping of the ECG spiked when she looked down. There, around her slender wrist, was the shiny chrome manacle of a pair of handcuffs. The other end was securely latched around the folding guard rail along the edge of her bed. "What- what the fuck? Why? Kacchan, what-" The words, raspy and grating, tumbled out painfully. The ECG was growing shrill.

"Fucking stop. Drink the goddamn water and breathe, moron." He pinned her arm to the bed and covered it with a blanket, so she couldn't see it. He put the bottle to her lips and poured.

Cool and sweet, the water relaxed the knot in her throat and washed away the almost-hysteria that had been swelling in her. She wanted to drain the bottle, but Katsuki pulled away after about half. The water forced her to meter her breathing. She screwed up her face and thought of peaceful things until the beeping in the corner slowed.

They stood in awkward silence.

"I thought that doctors were supposed to run in when that thing starts beeping faster?"

"Idiot, this isn't a TV show." He worked his jaw side to side like he wanted to say something more, but he only ripped his hand out of hers and turned away sharply.

Wait, when did he…? She shifted, trying to get a better angle to see him. The chain of her cuffs, unusually long and pooled on the edge of the mattress, slipped off the edge when she shifted. It rattled violently against the frame as it fell. She froze. She heard Katsuki telling her to breathe in her mind.

"You've been here for two weeks. You were out for ten days," he stuffed his hands in his pockets and squinted over his shoulder, "Coma. Doctors didn't think you were going to wake up again. After they stabilized you, the cops came."

Rumi's thoughts flittered to her injuries. Yeah, Rappa messed her up, but ten days? A coma? Frigid dread crept in on the heels of her near panic. The cops came. "They arrested me." She said it more to herself than to Katsuki. It was obvious really, why else would she be handcuffed to a hospital bed?

"What do you think, dumbass? Unlicensed quirk use. Aggravated assault and battery. They arrested the shit out of you." There was a lot to unpack there.

Her thoughts shifted to the fight, or what she could remember of it. At the beginning she had done well. She saw how Rappa stopped moving his legs before he threw each series of punches. She was nimble enough to dance just outside of his reach. She thought that she had a strategy, that she'd wear him down and whale on him when he got tired. Then the first punch connected, and her memory got hazy. "Wait. Wait, the fight. Who won?"

"That's what you care about right now? Whether or not you fucking won?" Katsuki stalked around and ripped her chart from the foot of the bed with a roiling crackle from his palms.

Rumi wished she was anywhere else, with anyone else, doing anything else.

"Contusion involving anterior right temporal lobe, approximately 2.4 by 2.7 cm in diameter. Right temporal bone fracture. Supraorbital rim fracture. Zygomatic complex fracture. Lateral wall orbital fracture. Multiple fractures of medial, lateral, and anterior walls of right maxillary sinus. Fracture of distal aspect of nasal bone. 1 cm laceration to lower lip. 2 cm laceration below left eye. Extensive soft tissue swelling and edema. Numerous abrasions and contusions." He looked like he stepped in something foul when he threw the chart on her lap.

She struggled to process the laundry list of injuries.

"That's just your stupid face, and I don't even know what half that shit means. Here's the executive summary: you should be fucking dead."

Rumi cringed away from his accusing finger.

He wasn't done though, Katsuki never did things by halves. "You were in surgery for three goddamn days. The hospital had to airlift you to Tokyo to get your dumbfuck skull put back together. You're not dead because you're lucky, and you're not… you're- you are a goddamn, fucking, stupid-" Whatever he was going to say devolved into a tight snarl, split in the middle by a reedy high note. His voice cracked. Katsuki sat heavily, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Yeah, you really won this one." He was cold, biting, almost hateful.

She wanted to say he was keeping his voice down because they were in a hospital, but he wasn't that considerate. Rumi looked at him closely, and briefly went cross-eyed when she tried to force her way through the swampy feeling of morphine. There were cracks in his face, through which feather-light touches of vulnerability slipped out. The same weakness he derided in others.

By getting herself hurt, she'd hurt him, because the macho jackass cared so goddamn much that he'd worry himself sick. Literally. He took perfectly after their mother in that respect. Rumi wished she were still asleep, maybe then she wouldn't be feeling the rotten guilt festering away in her. Her face itched under the gauze taped to it. "Kacchan, I'm… I'm sorry. I- ", her throat tightened. She really didn't want to cry in front of him. The disposable hospital pillowcase crinkled when she turned away.

"You better be fucking sorry. This," He gestured broadly at her, "had better be worth it to you. Dad fucking cried when he saw you." He downed the rest of his water and whipped the empty into the bin across the room.

She recoiled from the abrupt movement.

He rubbed at his face.

She chewed her lip.

"Mom's pissed. Ms. Midoriya is pissed. Fuck, I'm pissed. Your stupid bullshit got me grounded for six months. Deku too."

"It wasn't supposed to be this way. No one was supposed to get in trouble." God, she was so tired.

"Yeah, sure. No one but you, right?"

Rumi shied away from the scrutiny. She worked her mouth but couldn't come up with a response that didn't sound like a lie.

He sniffed, "In, out, just a quick fight. No one'll know. Nothing bad will happen. You're so full of shit."

"It wasn't! I didn't plan on getting hurt, Kacchan."

"Well you did, and you got you fucking wanted too, 'cause mom can't baby you this time. Good luck at ever becoming a pro now."

Rumi lay still for a long time after that. At some point – she didn't know how much time had passed – Izuku returned with an attending and their cadre of interns.

They poked and prodded at Rumi's extremities and asked a battery of questions, like what she could see, feel, and hear. They explained the extent of her injuries, the outcome of her surgeries, the medications she would need, and so many more things that slipped right through her ears.

Izuku, considerate as always, wrote down the relevant stuff for her. His attentiveness was sweet – really, it was – but it only reminded her of the needless stress and worry she'd caused for them. It turned her stomach sour.

Eventually, the boys left. Katsuki was done speaking with her, going by his refusal to acknowledge her as he quietly packed his things.

That was fine, she thought, she didn't feel much like talking anymore. It almost didn't hurt when he left without saying goodbye.

"Hurry the hell up Deku. If we miss the next train, if we're one second late for curfew – god as my witness – I'm going to be the next one in handcuffs. Get me?"

Izuku threw up his hands to ward him off and nodded rapidly.

Mollified, Katsuki left without another word, slamming the door on his way out.

"Jerk… I, uh, I'll see you tomorrow then. Rumi? O-okay, uh, try to get some sleep, g-good night." Izuku scurried out, shutting the door with a gentle click.

They returned after school the next day. The mood was somewhat calmer, probably because Katsuki still wasn't speaking to her and Rumi made no effort to speak to either of them. She stared at the ceiling tiles, wholly apathetic to Izuku's attempts at conversation. She was much more alert now and wasn't happy about that. She was fully conscious of the feeding tube in her nose, the catheter in her bladder, and how every time she coughed her entire head throbbed. A cast around her left hand and wrist that itched horribly. A hinged knee brace was on her right leg; it made her leg fall asleep unless she kept it in an awfully specific position. She sneezed once, at about three in the morning, and it hurt so terribly she nearly threw up.

If only she had her own dispenser button for the morphine drip, like someone in palliative care might. A horse tranquilizer would be nice too. To her continued frustration, she was unable to sleep after the boys left. So, she'd been up all night with her thoughts, and they were terrible company. Her parents were going to turn up sooner or later and – cuffed to the bed as she was – she had nothing better to do but imagine how that was going to turn out. That it would end on a good note was, well, inconceivable. So, she sat, and she waited, with the outlook of an inmate on death row.

After work let out, Mitsuki and Masaru arrived. The visit started out calmly, but that wasn't meant to last. There was a dangerous tension in Mitsuki's movements. The doctor went over much of what Rumi couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the previous night. Honestly, she didn't pay attention this time around either. The only thing she cared to know was when she could leave. They claimed she'd be well enough to transition to home care by the end of the week.

That in and of itself was an incredible medical achievement – so she'd been told – all thanks to a few doctors with rare and unique healing quirks. The catch, and there always was one in Rumi's life, was that her destination after being discharged was entirely up to the police. Rumi doubted that she would be going home, and that though weighed her down. The doctor left, and Rumi started a countdown in her head: T-10 seconds to doomsday.

The room was heavy. Her dad's eyes darted about cagily while he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Izuku fidgeted nervously in his seat, watching her intensely.

Katsuki glared stubbornly at his homework, but Rumi could see that his pencil wasn't touching the page as he moved his arm. So, they could read the room too then. Lovely.

Rumi argued with her mother less frequently than her brother might, but when she inevitably decided she had a hill worth dying on, the fighting was downright cruel. At the beginning, and if they were smart, Katsuki and her dad would make an emergency egress.

Accusations and threats were made. Hurtful words were uttered with wanton disregard for bystanders and collateral damage. Ultimatums flew about like flies on rotting meat. Wild declarations were made. And then it was over. They'd cool off, then they'd make up. Heartfelt apologies were made, hugs were exchanged, ugly crying happened. The boys – and sometimes the Midoriyas – would carefully piece together the ruins of the house. Life went on.

The record time for peace negotiations between the two of them was held by her brother, strange as it was. They'd just finished a screaming match over something petty and had moved to the armistice phase of the fight. Katsuki wasn't having it though, and so bought two pints of ice cream from the corner store. He played the role of begrudging delivery boy, handing one off to each girl separately, claiming it was a peace offering from the other woman. Soon after, Rumi and Mitsuki were chatting like old friends at the kitchen table. Katsuki revealed what he had done, accused them both of being stupid, and told them to shut the hell up so he could study. His victory was absolute.

This situation, considering her injuries and the police involvement, was more dire than whatever petty slights they bickered over at home. Ice cream bribery was a pleasant thought, but it wasn't a valid strategy, not here. Her mom's stakes in this fight were much, much higher than hers. Rumi understood why, to a degree, and had decided last night there wasn't anything worth fighting about. She'd shut up, listen to what mom had to say, and take the punishment.

It was a pretty easy decision to make when she was alone with her thoughts. Then her parents showed up, and her mom looked so different from how she had in Rumi's head. She saw a sort of intense, desperate look in Mitsuki's eye, like she thought Rumi was going to slip through her fingers. Right then and there, Rumi threw all thoughts of compliance out the window and doubled down.

"Rumi-" Mitsuki made the first move.

Rumi resigned herself to the headsman's block with a sigh. "What?" She knew it was unnecessary, she knew her flippant, snotty inflection was asking for trouble, but she was officially done watching the clock.

Mitsuki's eyelid twitched. She got half a word out.

Rumi interrupted her again. "Let's just get this over with." She made a show of rolling her eyes and looking out the window. That was the very wrong thing to say and do, because the next instant Mitsuki Bakugo exploded.

She vented her spleen, delivering the usual diatribe at the top of her lungs: Rumi was reckless, Rumi had poor judgement. Did Rumi ever think about how her family felt? Was Rumi trying to go to prison? Was Rumi's brain missing? Did consequences mean nothing to Rumi?

Rumi fired back tenfold, even though her skull was pounding like a drumhead. "Why the fuck are you so scared that I'm going to break if someone looks at me wrong? I'm not a goddamn egg, mom!"

"So, you decide to prove how tough you are by getting murdered in a parking garage while some reprobate livestreamed it? Are you completely fucking delusional?"

"I wasn't going to get murdered!"

"Bull-fucking-shit, that guy shattered your skull and he was going to kill you. Your head was so far up your fucking ass you just couldn't see it! This is why, this right here is why I worry. Because you run off and do stupid impulsive crap and get yourself hurt in the process."

At the edge of the blood feud, Izuku meekly raised hand to interject.

Masaru quietly pushed his hand down and shook his head sadly. No, son, you don't want to stick your nose in this one.

"Well maybe if you'd let me make mistakes like a normal person we wouldn't be here, but I guess that's always been too much to ask."

"What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?"

And the fight carried on.

"Rumi, you're thirteen, you don't know what you want yet. Hell, I don't even know what I want and I'm pushing forty!"

And on.

"-you never fucking listen to me. No, no, fuck you! Don't act like you suddenly care when you're just going to throw me at another therapist and- "

Ad nauseum.

"-just treated me like Kacchan then this wouldn't- "

"-and you have a goddamn criminal record now, did you ever stop to think- "

"-if you would stop breathing down my fucking neck for five fucking seconds- "

"-no consideration for anyone but yourself. When we got here your father - "

"- and if Inko is such a great fucking hero why don't you just- "

"-dragging a poor quirk-less boy to a fight club in the middle of- "

"-maybe if you didn't think I was going to become a Villain just because I- "

"-so much blood, a mother should never have to bury her child. How dare you act like- "

Until Rumi went nuclear. It happened during a lull. They were both breathing hard. Rumi's head hurt so much she wanted to curl into a ball and die. Hot tears soaked into the mountain of gauze on her face, stinging at the raw flesh around her left eye. She gingerly cradled her face. At least the police were gracious enough to lend her a pair of cuffs with a long chain.

"When you saw me for the first time", Rumi was so, so tired of yelling, "When Izuku's mom brought you to the Red Cross… I…" She'd gone hoarse and the fight had left her, but she was committed now. She hated everything about this. Hated the anger, the screaming, the whole situation. Hated those traitorous whispers that darted through her mind when she thought about her place in the Bakugo family.

The boys weren't acting like little wallflowers anymore, she guessed they felt the wind change. Katsuki knew what was coming. She'd taken advantage of him once, shared her fears with him after he'd gotten a tooth pulled and was riding out the painkillers. At the time, she thought – hoped – he wouldn't remember, though now it looked like he absolutely did.

He was out of his chair in an instant, face pulled into a taut grimace. He moved to shut her down. He'd be justified in doing it too, she thought.

If only he was fast enough to stop her.

"Did you adopt me because you wanted me to be part of your family, or did you just see something pitiful that you wanted to protect?" It was unnecessarily harsh and now was the worst possible time to address this, but she had to know. The guilt, the regret, the self-loathing, they all hit her at once, mirrored by the sharp stab of alarm and grief she saw in her mother.

Izuku and Masaru were on their feet now too. All the boys interjected at the same time, falling over each other with alarm.

Rumi didn't look at them, she couldn't.

"I- what? What?" Mitsuki wrung her hands and bit at her lip, "Why do you? God, Rumi, you're my daughter. I mean, yeah, I'm madder than I've ever been, but, but you're my kid!"

"Mom…"

Mitsuki opened her mouth but failed to speak.

To Rumi, that silence was more meaningful than anything Mitsuki could have said. Her heart shattered.