"The Judicial Review Team of the Hero Public Safety Commission has elected to re-evaluate the sentencing of Miss Rumi Usagiyama (Case No. 145-5589-2012-33). Taking into consideration the young age, lack of prior offenses, and nature of the crimes committed by the offender, the JRT has elected to commute the sentence into six months of monitored house arrest and community service, effective February 26th. Questions may be directed to the Judicial Review Team offices by phone (03-3224-9897) or by letter (1-2-3 Kasumigaseki, Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo 100-8913, Japan)."

That's what the letter from the Hero Public Safety Commission said. It was hand delivered to her by some plain faced goon in a stiff suit as her family was filling out the discharge paperwork at the hospital. She wasn't to leave the house for any reason, with the exception of approved hospital visits, and even then, her parents had to file a request in advance of each appointment and they had to follow an exact route between the hospital and home, as set by the commission. A shiny black ankle monitor ensured that the HPSC would know if she ever deviated from her approved areas.

No school, no gym, no park, no walking around the neighborhood. She couldn't even walk to the mailbox before the monitor started to chirp warningly. She had no idea how she was supposed to do "community service" when she couldn't walk ten meters from her house. The letter didn't even say what she had to do, just that a commission appointed case worker would contact her later.

There was a soft knocking at her door. "Rumi?" It was her mother, "the Midoriyas are here; Inko's making dinner. You're welcome to join us if you want. I… think Izuku would like to catch up, it's been a while since you've seen him."

Rumi turned and burrowed deeper into her blankets. She did want to see Izuku, and the promise of dinner made her deprived stomach clench and growl, but she couldn't face her mother. Or anyone else, not right now. Maybe later, she told herself, as if she hadn't been saying the same thing for two weeks. As for dinner, she'd do what she'd been doing since she got home. Steal into the kitchen in the dead of night like a cryptid and hunt for leftovers, and maybe a carrot if she were feeling jazzy. Not before two in the morning though, that way she could be one-hundred-percent certain that everyone else in the house was asleep.

She was disgusting. It was dumb, she knew it was dumb, but she couldn't get out of her own head, not after the hospital. So, she'd hidden in her room since she was released. Katsuki had brought her classwork home from school every day, but it had just piled up on her desk, next to her assortment of prescriptions. She'd been ignoring those too. It was probably a bad idea, but she didn't like the addled feeling the narcotics gave her. The constant itch of her healing bones was a mediocre distraction from her spiraling thoughts, but it was better than nothing.

Another soft knock, "Rumi? Well, I'll... I'll save you a bowl, okay?"

Rumi counted her mother's receding footsteps before turning back to her phone, swiping through her feed absently. She considered texting Izuku, but he probably wouldn't have his phone with him. Inko and Mitsuki had coordinated punishments for the boys once they'd both been grounded. Since they were both able to leave their houses for school, they didn't have access to any electronics at home unless homework demanded it. They were able to take their phones to school in case of emergency, but they had parental locks on everything but basic calling and texting apps. Since Rumi was such a bad and naughty child that the government grounded her, Mitsuki let her keep her phone. Probably out of pity. Or maybe guilt, but Rumi was doggedly avoiding that line of thought.

Not like having it made much of a difference. Every day she'd exhaust her sources of hero news, social media, memes, and porn within a few hours of waking, consuming it all in a joyless stupor. Then she'd sleep through a solid chunk of the day. Sometimes she caught Present Mic's show on her beat-up little personal radio.

Some friends from school tried to see where she was or if she were alive, but she'd been comatose at the time. Replying now felt awkward, and she wasn't really in a talking mood, so she left most of their messages unopened. Rumi might be somewhat abrasive, but she wasn't so rude that she'd leave someone on read.

Rumi curled herself around a wadded-up pillow to muffle her stomach's serenade and did her best to find a distraction. The lunatics on the All Might Monitor boards might be good for that. She opened a trending thread and started to read:

The year to year frequency of All Might sightings has gone down significantly in the last few years. If you plot sightings, violent crimes, and villain activity vs time you get this graph, where the number of reported incidents is going up while reported sightings are decreasing. The difference is almost one-to-one, which is wild. Before I get flamed for "correlation != causation blah blah blah", I already thought about that and there's more to it than just sighting data. See, all these changes seem to start around the Hokkaido incident, three years ago. So, All Might throws down with some supervillain, which we have ZERO information on, not even a name, and like half of Sapporo gets trashed in the process. All Might wins but there's nothing but radio silence from his agency. I think something like fifty or sixty people died, and usually the guy's all over the news after every major fight. A week later someone says they see All Might coughing up blood while fighting Toxic Chainsaw and it took him like, ten minutes to put the guy down, which is wild, because All Might's career average for situation resolution is sub twenty seconds. Something doesn't add up. Dude's been kicking ass up and down Japan for decades, no signs of stopping, no losses, and now he's taking minutes to wipe a dime store mook with a Leatherface fetish? If you look at the HPSC reports from the last ten years-

Good god, those onions smelled heavenly. The conspiracy nuts were promptly forgotten. Rumi closed her eyes and laid her head back, searching out the hum of life in the kitchen. Warm tones of conversation and the soft sizzling oil spread throughout the house. Katsudon! Inko was making katsudon, her specialty. Mom just told a dirty joke and Izuku, innocent nerd that he was, didn't get it. Rumi imagined Inko's muddled PG explanation was accompanied by wide eyes and a burning face.

"Oi! get back to chopping, nerd."

She should be out there, giving Izuku a hard time and egging Katsuki into mouthing off to the wrong person. Soon enough, the smell of breaded and fried pork loin wafted in. Her mouth flooded with drool. Izuku was so lucky that his mother knew her way around the kitchen. She knew the nerd would be distracted the moment that cutlet hit the oil, eyeing it with furtive lustful glances. Her brother would call him a degenerate extra. This was about the time Rumi would wink dramatically, waggle her eyebrows, or make a show of licking her lips. Anything to corrupt the cinnamon bun.

"God, you fucking coward… you're so dumb." The 'poor me' itch of self-loathing was a persistent reminder that she was only lonely because she'd forced this isolation on herself. She was too stubborn to admit she was being childish though. Rumi settled into her cocoon of laundry and bedding.

She'd apparently nodded off to the sounds of her family because she jerked awake at someone pounding on the door. How long had she been sleeping?

"Oi, open this door right now, you goddamn slug!"

Oh, she did not want to deal with this right now. "Fuck off Kacchan, I'm not in the mood."

"I don't care what mood you're in, if you don't unlock this shitty door you're toast!" He hammered at the door so hard that her window rattled in its frame.

"If you break another door mom'll kill you."

"You wanna bet? DEKU, make yourself useful and hold this."

Rumi groused under her breath while digging around in her bed. She should probably put on a shirt, and she was fairly sure there was one around here somewhere. She could care less about Katsuki, but she didn't really want Izuku to see all her business after living like a NEET for two weeks. That would be… unflattering. Come to think of it, her room looked gross after two weeks of neglect, she should probably do something about that. Later. "Go! Away!"

"Ah, Kacchan, isn't this going a bit too far?"

"Stuff it extra, we haven't gone too far enough! LAST CHANCE, THUMPER!" The boys started bickering back and forth in the hall to her relief. That gave her just enough time to desperately cram herself into a pair of sleep shorts.

At least somewhat presentable, Rumi ripped open the door.

Izuku lit up like a fireworks display, bless his heart. "Rumi!"

Katsuki reacted opposite to Izuku, his face scrunching up like an angry pug.

"What the fuck is your problem, smoothbrain?" Rumi tugged the tips of her ears free from her shirt, which she wore inside-out and backwards.

"You're my goddamn problem! Why the fuck are you hiding in here? Stupid!"

"Okay, I am not hiding, and what difference does it make anyway? You can't just break down my door because I'm minding my own business. That's like, rule one of not being an asshole."

"Guys, do we have to-"

"You're the asshole, asshole. Mrs. Midoriya took the night off to come over and make dinner, the least you could do is show your greasy face at the table."

"Fuck, SHUT UP… uh- oops." Izuku wasn't having their boilerplate squabbling tonight.

Rumi gaped.

Katsuki, now deathly silent, rounded on him.

Stock still and wide eyed, Izuku stood with a hand clapped over his mouth.

"…"

"Fucking… whatever. I don't need this shit." Katsuki shouldered past Izuku and stomped down the hall, slamming the door to his own room behind him.

"Hey, hey! I think that was your first time swearing! Twelve out of ten, buddy!" She gave a toothy grin, wincing when it split a small scab on her cheek.

"Can- Can we not? Please? Here, I brought you- "

"And take a damn shower, you smell fucking putrid!" Katsuki's door slammed shut, again.

"Dick," she hollered back.

"Oh my god, why do I even come here?"

Rumi bit her cheek very carefully, so she wouldn't laugh at Izuku's rapidly twitching eyelid. He'd probably take it the wrong way. "What was that?"

The way he watched with a slack face – waiting for Katsuki to open his door again, she supposed – wasn't making it easier for her. Deadpan irritation just wasn't meant for those squishy freckled cheeks.

"Oh, n-nothing…" He whipped his head around, squinting dangerously at Katsuki's door, before looking back at her, "anyway, we – or I guess I – brought you dinner."

It wasn't just dinner that Izuku offered her, but a bowl of precious ambrosia, a glorious gift from the gods. A heaping bowl of katsudon, still warm too. She dragged him bodily into the room, fast enough to give him whiplash.

Somewhere in the house, Mitsuki screeched about bratty teens and fragile doors.

She wasn't wrong, Rumi probably should be gentler. At the same time, Izuku had stood himself at her door, of his own volition, to taunt her with a good time.

The lock clicked sharply. Something about the way Izuku swallowed nervously was electrifying.

"W-wait a minute, it's- it's not my dinner. I already ate, it's yours!" He whined, eyes searching for a clear place to set the bowl.

Rumi crept forward with the grace and murderous intent of a panther on the hunt. Step, pause. Step, pause. Never break eye contact.

"Rumi, w-we don't have to do this, really. What if you break something? You're supposed to be healing! Wait, wait, Rumi- NO!"

She pounced.

Present Mic's honeyed voice oozed from the radio, floated by a slow tenor saxophone. With a belly full of fried pork and her brain swimming in hydrocodone, Rumi felt truly relaxed for the first time in weeks. She sat on the tiled floor of the shower, resting her right cheek on her knees. Perched atop a stool behind her, Katsuki deftly massaged shampoo into her roots. His nitrile gloves creaked softly as he worked. A salacious groan snuck out of her mouth out when his fingers kneaded around the base of her ears.

Izuku wheezed. "I-Indecent." He muttered from beside Katsuki. A small bag of medical supplies sat in his lap, mostly fresh gauze and surgical tape.

"You're just jealous of Kacchan's attention. A little to the left. No, too far, oh… oh yeah."

"Shaddup, both of you. Oi, Deku. Gloves." He held out his hands expectantly. Izuku carefully striped his gloves, powdered his hands with talc, and slipped on a fresh pair. Nitroglycerine sweat and steamy showers didn't mix well. Once, years ago, Katsuki grabbed Rumi's hair at an onsen. He was being a brat and pulling her hair, sure, but he hadn't intended to blow her up. Accidents happened with little kids. In the end, Mitsuki had to trim an alarming amount of scorched hair from Rumi's head. Strict precautions were taken from then on.

"Hmm, when's the last time we all bathed together?" She wiggled her toes against the tile and picked at the plastic bag stretched over her cast. She had been ready for the cast to come off the instant the doctors put it on her. In about a week she'd get her wish, and then the last annoyance left would be the orthopedic knee brace.

"Well before puberty," Katsuki moved on to conditioner, "you can shampoo your own damn tail on that note."

"O-ho-ho, Kacchan," Her tail, possessed, wriggled and twitched every which way, "how proper- yeowch! Okay, okay, jeez, you don't have to pull them off!" Katsuki released her ears with a grunt.

"Knock it off, or Deku's going to stroke out."

She peeked at Izuku over her shoulder; he was trying, and failing, to act nonchalant, but she caught his eyes darting between her body and everything else in the room. He had a prime view of everything she had to offer. Well, from the back at least. Normally he'd have stammered an excuse and run off by now, but here he remained. What an exciting change of pace!

A little laugh bubbled in her chest. She needed this. Zoning out as Katsuki rinsed her hair, she thought about her company. She really was a lucky duck for having the boys in her life. Katsuki was an arrogant, toxic, asshole, but he was also brave, protective, and loyal. If she squinted. In the dark.

The occasional moments of compassion or thoughtfulness didn't make up for his shitty personality or the way he'd treated Izuku after he was diagnosed quirkless. However, they did convince her that Katsuki was a good person when it counted. If he were completely hopeless then he wouldn't be here now, helping her bathe, right? Right.

Rumi bobbed her head from side to side in time with the blended noise from the washing machine and the radio. Maybe she should have kept up with her painkillers, she felt great! "Wash-a wash-a washy wash, oh! Hey, Izuku, get over here so I can wash your hair!" He had gotten in later than she and Katsuki had, on account of the laundry. It was only fair to help him, tit-for-tat and all that.

She imagined little jets of steam shrieking out of his ears when his skin flushed dramatically. A rosy glow spread from his cheeks, up to his hairline and down to his sternum. She smiled brightly and wondered if Izuku realized how pretty he was. Izuku, now useless, had no hope of resisting when Rumi snagged him with her good arm. She plopped him on a stool in front of her by the time he regained coherent thought. All too easy. And if he got an eyeful of her from the front in the process, well… there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Not one thing. Oh crap, I should have shaved… oh well, she thought.

Fumbling around her cast, she smeared a dollop of shampoo in his hair and started to lather. Rumi made a pleased sound when his shoulders finally relaxed, and he tilted his head back. She was doing a poor job with only one hand but that was alright, she knew he'd appreciate the gesture, and she enjoyed running her hand through his hair anyway. It was so soft.

Izuku was almost exactly opposed to Katsuki. Humble, sweet, and trusting, he was a wonderful friend. Maybe too trusting, and a bit of a crybaby, but still his heart was in the right place. The boys could be doing anything else on a Sunday night, but they chose to take care of her. Well, they couldn't do anything else, since they were grounded, but still. Together they conspired to feed her a real meal and drag her into a badly needed shower. Izuku even changed her bedding and ran her laundry. Thinking about it too much made her heart ache.

Rumi pressed her forehead into Izuku's back. She held him tightly and closed her eyes against a sudden prickle of tears. It's okay, everything's okay, just breathe. She bore down to take a deep, calming breath, so she could pull herself together, but her stupid body betrayed her. She sucked in a stuttering gasp-gasp-gasp, in the way people did at that strange place between sobbing and hyperventilating. FUCK.

"Rumi!" Izuku turned and found her hand. He stared with those cursed Midoriya eyes, so gentle and concerned, always so bloody expressive.

Katsuki, silently, laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. He squeezed exactly once before letting go.

She released Izuku and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm, ah, I'm ok. Just got soap in my eye…" Izuku looked doubtful, because of course he would see through her half assed attempt to save face. "I just… just- Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean. It's, well, I appreciate you. Both of you. And I'm… sorry. For being dumb and doing dumb things sometimes. And for being moody, I'm trash, I know."

"Just do better." Katsuki rumbled, quite thickly. Or was she hearing things? He wrapped a towel around her shoulders and made to switch over the laundry.

She dried her face a bit more than she needed to. Rumi knew the score between them, so she wasn't bothered by his sunny disposition. Katsuki cared deeply about his friends and family. It was, perhaps, his one redeeming quality. Even if he was the absolute worst at expressing how he felt in a positive way.

"What Kacchan meant to say", that unfamiliar flicker popped up in Izuku's eyes again, "Is that we're happy to help, and we forgive you. And, you're not trash, just… try to take better care of yourself. Please?"

"Pfft, I didn't say that."

Before Izuku could say anything to make the situation more tense, Rumi poked him in the belly to get his attention. "You should rinse off, so we can get out. Yeah?" Rumi waited for Izuku to finish before she toddled out of the shower with him. When she stood a wave of tiredness washed over her. She pulled her towel tight around herself and rubbed at her nose.

"Ugh, god, I hate being so sniffly all the time. Stupid pills. Stupid mood swings." Rumi eyed Izuku carefully, until he started to fidget. That didn't really take long, since it was Izuku, but it was still amusing.

"Er, is there something on my face?" He fiddled with his damp hair anxiously.

"Nope!" She flicked him on the nose. "But it's strange, you seem to be developing a spine. What's caused that? New diet?"

"Oh! Well, no. I just- "

"Been hitting the gym?"

"Um, n-no." he forced an uncomfortable laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Rumi tapped her chin thoughtfully until she had a devilish idea. "Hmm… wait. Izuku, did you get… a girlfriend?"

Izuku walked face first into the end of the open door and fell flat on his back, all to the melodious sound of Katsuki's gasping, hacking laughter.

Rumi woke in a wonderful mood, warm and cozy. The early morning sun splashed in through the blinds, painting her room in broad strokes of yellow-orange fire. Izuku lay nestled in her arms. An unruly lock of hair stuck up from his head; It caught the sun and glowed a fascinating shade of lime green.

On the other side of the bed, Katsuki's back was pressed against hers. He shed heat like a furnace. The rhythm of his slow, deep breaths tried to lure her back to sleep. Tempted, she closed her eyes and picked up the fleeting scent of burnt sugar on the air: She probably should have turned the air conditioner down before they turned in. The echoes of their beating hearts filled her ears. Katsuki was powerful and unfaltering, the deep Lub-Dub in his chest kept a slow tempo.

Izuku was faster, shallower, and more varied. Occasionally he would fluctuate up or down as he dreamed. He sounded healthy, but the boy sorely needed to hit the gym. She could hear just how poor his endurance was. She squeezed Izuku against her chest, reveling in the sleepy noises he made. Asking them to stay last night was a wonderful decision. Hopefully they wouldn't be weird about it when they woke.

She dozed, basking in the warmth, until her alarm went off.

It managed one full set of beeps before Katsuki's long arm reached over her to mash the snooze button. Fully alert, he stepped over them and left the room without a word.

She envied how easily he woke in the mornings. No grogginess, no fumbling for the alarm, no desire to snooze the alarm until the last possible minute before lateness was guaranteed. It was like flipping a switch with him.

Izuku stirred in her arms and pulled the covers in tighter. He usually needed a minute. It probably didn't help that Katsuki shut off the alarm so quickly.

She pinched his cheek and whispered a greeting in his ear, only to laugh softly when he grumbled back something in a language unknown to anyone on the planet. Izuku wasn't a night owl by any means, but also, paradoxically, he wasn't a morning person either.

The alarm went off again, and it blared for a solid minute before Izuku sat up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around blearily.

Rumi counted backwards from ten, wondering when he would notice where he was. She made it to three before he went rigid, like he'd been doused in ice water.

Haltingly, he turned towards her, mouth working silently.

Rumi rolled her eyes and smacked his forehead with an open palm.

He fell off the bed with a thump and a groan.

"Don't make it weird, nerd, or you're going to be late."

Dazed, Izuku carefully propped himself up. "Uh, thanks. I guess I wasn't totally awake yet."

Rumi stretched luxuriously, soaking up the heat left behind by the boys. "Uh-huh. Whatever you say."

"Did you have to hit me so ha-," He let out a gargantuan yawn, "ah, so hard?"

"I dunno, were you about to start apologizing and muttering dumb shit about nothing?"

A little dusting of red appeared under his eyes and across his nose. He looked away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Katsuki threw her door open and hurled a bundle of clothing at Izuku. It smacked him in the face with a meaty thwap! He hit the floor for the second time that morning. "Hurry the fuck up Deku, I'm not waiting for your lazy ass." He slammed the door so hard her whiteboard calendar fell off the back of it. It hit the floor, scattering colorful vegetable magnets across the room like buckshot.

"Oh, are you fucking kidding- KACCHAN!" But he was already gone.

Izuku, with heroic effort, sat up. The bundle of clothes Katsuki nailed him with turned out to be a spare school uniform. He stared at it dumbly for a moment.

Rumi sighed, hopped over him, and hauled him to his feet. "Oi, Earth to nerd, wake up!" She pushed him towards the door.

He turned like he wanted to say something.

Rumi cut him off with a quick hug.

"I know, I'm glad I feel better too, and I appreciate you. Now get the hell out of here before Kacchan literally murders you."

He blinked twice before the corners of his mouth twitched. "How do you always know what I'm going to say?"

"God, are you even listening to me? Because I know you. Now go. Get. Dressed!" She threw her door open, dragged Izuku across the hall, stuffed him in the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him. She shook her head, incredulous. "Some people..." Rumi loped off down the hall, she needed to find her parents.

Rumi opened the front door and found a skinny, scraggly, ash blond loser dirtying the welcome mat. He wore a thick aviator coat and baggy cargos. Yellow goggles rested on his forehead and a pair of over ear headphones – also yellow – hung around his neck. On his back sat a pair of large wings with bright red plumage.

"Good morning! Hey, is this the Bakugo household?" He chirped with a lazy smile.

Rumi blinked at him. She wasn't expecting anyone. If her parents were they would have left a note mentioning it. Since she was the only one at home right now, she certainly wasn't going to entertain this loser. She knew better. Letting in strange men when you were home alone was how you ended up on the evening news with your severed head stuffed in a bowling ball bag.

"No." She shut and re-locked the door, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. She'd have to mention this when her parents got home. There was a chance that this guy wasn't some random creep, but she wasn't about to stick her neck out to make that discovery on her own. No thank you.

The doorbell rang again. Rumi sighed and waited. He would probably go away if she waited him out. Thirty seconds later came another chime.

"Why?" she asked aloud. She wrenched the door open and glared expectantly.

"Good morning! Hey, is this the Bakugo household?" Same words, same inflection, same tone, same expression.

Creepy. She was definitely not letting him in now. "No, it's not, and we aren't interested in whatever you're selling. Bye." She locked the door for the second time. Rumi made it about ten feet back into the house when the doorbell chime exploded. She clapped her hands over her ears with a shriek as the violent ringing violated her skull. She covered the distance from here to the front door with a single hop.

DingDingDingDingDingDingDingDingDingDing "STOP!" DingDingDingDingDingDingDingDing

The blond bird paused his assault and asked the same stupid question with the same stupid smile on his stupid face. "Good morning! Hey, is this the Bakugo household?"

"Yes, now fuck off!" Ear twitching, she shut the door in his face again. Before she could even throw the deadbolt, the infernal doorbell abuse started again.

"No, no, no, I am not opening that door again!" She grabbed the tips of her ears and pulled them straight down in her frustration.

DingDingDingDingDingDingDingDingDingDing

Involuntarily, her foot started thumping on the hardwood floor. She ground her teeth, swinging her jaw side to side. Her foot thumped faster and faster, shaking her whole body as it accelerated. By now she was almost thumping at the same rate that The Bastard was ringing the doorbell. Then, silence. Her leg stilled. Hopeful, she released her ears and listened intently. The seconds ticked by, slow as molasses. About a minute passed, and Rumi sagged with relief. A single chime echoed coyly throughout the house when she was halfway to the kitchen.

Ding.

She bit out an ungodly howl and flew down the hall. "DIE!" She was outside the house, The Bastard was between her and the house, and she was suspended in the air by a swarm of red feathers. Her left leg was still extended in the follow-through of a powerful kick. Her right leg twitched, thumping impotently against the air. How the fuck? "Yes. This is the Bakugo household. Is there something I can help you with?"

"It is? Oh, good, I thought I was lost for a moment. I'm Keigo Takami, but you can call me Hawks. Going by the ears I'm guessing you're Rumi Usagiyama, right? The Hero Commission appointed me as your case worker. It's nice to finally meet you!"

Oh. Oh no. She'd slammed the door in his face at least three times. Oh god no. She'd told him to fuck off. Oh fuck no. No, no, NO!

She'd kicked down her own door – or at least tried, Hawks had somehow opened the door before her foot connected with it – from the inside of her own house, in an attempt to take his head off, just because he was abusing the doorbell. What is WRONG with me? "I'm so fucked."