Rumi came to with a nasty case of dry mouth and a splitting headache. The fuzzy feeling of coming out of sedation reminded her of commission training. "The… fuck?" She was in a bed, in a small, familiar room. One with fluorescent lights and green linoleum tile. Priorities. Can you move? Can you fight? Are you in immediate danger? Yes, maybe, and… no?

Kurogiri stood in the doorway. "Rumi Usagiyama."

Well, this was less than ideal. Rumi shoved aside the déjà vu. She needed to get in contact with Hawks or the commission if he weren't available. The sinking feeling in the back of her mind grew worse. Hawks was punctual to a tee. That he'd missed so many contact windows worried her.

"How long?" She pushed herself upright. Her chest ached, but her broken rib seemed mended. It was obvious that she was somehow still in their good graces, so she didn't bother asking what happened. Sleeping dogs, and all that.

"Twenty hours, approximately. Your wounds have been treated."

"Yeah. Thanks." She sighed. Twenty hours, so it was like… six thirty in the morning? Something like that. It wasn't a terribly long time in the grand scheme, but it was far longer than she liked. The linoleum was cold under her feet. She shivered, searching around for something to wear other than her hospital gown. Why they put her in one eluded her, it seemed like a waste of time.

Kurogiri offered a change of clothes, freshly washed and neatly folded. They were hers, the outfit she'd been wearing before changing into the bunny suit for the first time.

She looked at the clothes, back at Kurogiri, shrugged, and slipped out of the gown.

He didn't react to or comment on her nudity.

"Any response from the heroes? Police?" Clothed up to the waist, Rumi realized she didn't know where her phone was. Not that there was anything important or incriminating on it. It was only a burner. Still, its absence was inconvenient.

"Nothing overt. Your effects." He offered a small box containing her things. So that's where the phone ran off to. Battery was dead though. Unfortunate. Fully dressed, Rumi followed Kurogiri out of the room and down the hall.

He portaled them to the bar, where he offered her refreshments, as Kurogiri did. Ever the faithful servant.

Rumi declined. Sick to her stomach with anxiety, she doubted she could keep anything down. Too much had gone wrong. All her plans, Hawks plans, they were all off the rails. She glanced at the dormant monitor hung on the wall, and the oppressive claustrophobia rushed back. She needed to leave. Run. Get out.

This was perhaps the only time that she was grateful that she'd let the commission fuck around in her head. She retreated, letting the frigid, calculating parts of her take control. Most of which made up the image of Mirko in her mind. It wasn't anything ridiculous, like a split personality. That was the stuff of movies and comics, as written by people largely ignorant of the reality of mental health issues. It was more so a mindset, or an attitude. A groove she could get into, where prioritizing the mission over her desires – her heart – was easier. A way of cutting out the rage and fear, hate and sorrow, replacing it with crystalline focus. It was useful. It wasn't her.

She hated it.

"Shigaraki?" She probed.

"Tomura Shigaraki is displeased. I would recommend you avoid him for the time being." Tumblers clinked softly as he unloaded them from the dishwasher. Why he ever bothered to polish them by hand was a mystery.

Unsurprising, that. "Any particular reason?"

"I cannot speculate; however, it would be… unfortunate if you were to meet him at this time."

"So… look, Kurogiri, are we cool?" She was itching to get the hell out of dodge, but she couldn't just kick down the door and waltz out. "I mean with the USJ thing. It didn't really go to plan, so I'm wondering, do I still have a job or what?" She rolled Eraser Head's goggles between her palms as she spoke. The brass glinted in the dim light.

"You are still under our employ, Rumi Usagiyama, and to my knowledge, you are not to be terminated any time soon." Kurogiri stared at the googles, fixated.

When Rumi noticed, she slowly moved them around. "Uh… when you say terminated, do you mean me or my contract?"

"Yes." Kurogiri tracked the goggles as a cat might track birds from the other side of a window.

"How kind of you." She didn't know why she bothered sometimes. "These familiar or something?"

"Yes." He reached out, hesitant, as though he wanted to touch them. "They belong to Eraser Head, do they not?"

"Yeah, they're his." She let him take the goggles.

He cradled them, as though they were fragile and precious. He didn't move for some time.

Rumi's eyebrow twitched upwards. Not quite the reaction she was expecting. "You wanna… hang on to them for me?"

He nodded slowly. "I will do this for you. Rumi Usagiyama."

"… right. So, I'm gonna bounce." She gestured at the door with her thumb. "Lay low for a bit. Call me if something comes up, yeah?"

Kurogiri didn't budge.

Rumi turned to leave. Just as crossed the threshold she heard a soft "Thank you" from the bartender.

Nejire, half dressed in her uniform, hero costume visible underneath, and coffee in hand, came in hot, sliding into an empty seat in the usual study room. She let her head fall to the table with a clunk. It was ungodly early and Nejire was most definitely not a morning person.

One of the perks of living with Ryuko was being close to UA and not living with her grouchy parents. One of the drawbacks was, well, living with Ryuko. While she loved Ryuko to pieces, the woman was, in the literary sense, both terrifying and horrifying when she wanted to be. She was so freakin' mad about the whole USJ thing too. After making sure Nejire was in one piece, Ryuko lulled her into a false sense of security by letting her go to sleep. Then she dragged her out of bed at the witching hour and had her run drills until she had to catch the train to UA.

She felt like she was made of lead, which was impressive in itself, because Nejire didn't do tired. Well, physical tired. She did sleepy tired really, really well. And often.

A few of her 3-A friends were here already, grinding out a last-minute homework assignment by the look of things. One snickered. "You alright Nejire?"

Nejire just groaned.

"Ah, good so you're alive! Then you can help us with the Ectoplasm homework that's due in, uh… an hour."

"Yeah, yeah sure." She raised her head and rubbed at her face, then downed half her coffee in a single gulp. Maybe she should try to snag a shower at lunch time. She could smell herself, and that was so, so super gross. Yuck. "Problem 5?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

She just shrugged. "A hunch." She peered over and had it in a second. "Oh, we're supposed to use fourth order Runge-Kutta for this one, not second order. And you forgot the negative when you derived the second cosine term."

"FUCK!"

"Ha! I told you!"

Nejire laughed tiredly. In truth she'd done the homework on the train over, so it was still fresh in her soft, spongy, exhausted noggin. She didn't have to share that little detail though.

The room was small. There was a table with four chairs. One wall was a glass sliding door, two were whiteboards, and the fourth had a TV mounted on it. Ostensibly, the TV was meant for students to use in an academic way, but more often than not they were used to catch a game or stream whatever show the internet was buzzing about that week. Right now, it was on HiTV. It was a small network but had gained some recognition for being the first to broadcast Hawks' All-Call during the Kamino Disaster.

Nejire grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

"GOOD MORNING TOKYO!" A tall woman in a pencil skirt and a glitzy blazer strutted into view. "Yesterday's body count spiked to a sickening sixteen, nine in the Chiba slums and seven in Tokyo proper, in the heart of our very own Hero Commission!" A clip played of an explosion ripping through the top seven floors of the Commission HQ. "BOOM! The Commission president is dead as a doornail, and you can bet your gramps pension check that the cops are going to turn over every city block to find that culprit."

The woman sneered into the camera as she settled behind the anchors desk. It was a gaudy thing of white marble and shiny brass. "If that wasn't enough to have you clutching at your pearls, an army of villains invaded one of UA High School's state of the art facilities, aiming to kill All Might himself!" She shrieked in a mocking falsetto: "Won't someone think of the children?"

"Ew, Nejire, why do you watch this garbage? I thought you were smart." The teasing was good-natured.

She flicked her finger, sending a little spark of golden light at her friend. It fizzled out halfway across the table. "Shush it, you."

"If you've been living in a cave, or if you're just BLEEP-ing stupid, you're watching the Kingslayer Show, hosted by me, Kingslayer!" Intense yellow eyes flared and Kingslayer threw her arms out theatrically. "Your favorite villain turned hero, bringing you the hottest takes on the hottest villains ever since Best Jeanist BLEEP my BLEEP and threw me in BLEEP-ing rehab!"

This really was trash tv, but Kingslayer had been a villain once, and a prolific one. She was smart, and there was always something useful on her shows, even if they were distasteful. Nejire was also a sucker for dramatic flair, and Kingslayer had that in spades.

A police siren wailed, and the studio lights flickered blue and red. The words VILLAIN WATCH swirled into focus on the wall of screens behind Kingslayer.

"I have a spicy little treat for all you slack jawed devotees today, but before we get to that, a history lesson." She snapped her fingers, and the whole of the room faded to a low-quality video feed of a fight. Kingslayer still sat at her hideous desk, which appeared to float in the bottom corner of the video. "You remember the Underground Masquerade, the totally illegal underground quirk fight club that was smart enough to livestream their fights on an unencrypted connection? Yeah, well, a bit before they got BLEEP-ed by Endeavor, this happened."

The video paused. A massive muscle-bound fighter was in the middle of throwing a wicked punch. A little girl, bloodied and battered, ducked under it. She had snowy white rabbit ears. "You might be asking yourself, 'What kind of villain would beat up a little girl?' Well I ain't taking about muscles over here."

The video resumed, and the girl who Nejire knew in her gut was Mirko, hopped into the air and dropped her opponent with a heel kick to the jaw.

A sound effect of glass shattering played. "Oh yeah," Kinglsayer moaned, "that's the good BLEEP."

"If nuance is lost on your smooth brains, this cute little bunny girl is this week's, no, this YEAR'S hottest villain. Her name is Mirko, and we're going to dive right in."

Nejire felt much more alert. She knew almost nothing about Mirko, other than she was willing to throw herself headfirst into an inferno if it would save even one person. She'd also fought tooth and nail to save Nejire's life after an unfortunate encounter with Himiko Toga. Then, paradoxically, Mirko had beaten her half to death and thrown her into the ocean with cinderblocks tied to her ankles. Nejire was very interested in what Kingslayer had to say.

"'But how is a cute little girl like that a villain? Surely, she's only a misguided youth.' I hear you typing, my inbox is quivering in anticipation. Who is Mirko? Well, she's practically an undergrounder. No social media, creeps around the dark alleys of Kamino Ward, capping baddies and messing with the yakuza. 'Capping baddies? Messing with the Yakuza? That sounds like a vigilante, not a villain. You're slipping Kingslayer'." She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "I hear you, I do, and to that I say, shut your holes and check this out." She pointed behind her. "MONTAGE!"

Nejire carefully sat on her hands, trying not to draw attention to the way they trembled. She now regretted turning up the volume. She was determined though.

In the video, Mirko fought, well, everyone. It was three long minutes of jump cuts, and each cut led into another few frames of graphic, ultra-violent hand to hand combat, all sugar coated by a soundtrack of cavity inducing J-pop.

The footage appeared to be "found-footage" from a variety of sources. Nearby CCTV cameras, smartphones, drones, news crews. When it started Nejire recognized the day of the Kamino Fire. It showed Mirko destroying a water truck with a roundhouse kick, then jumped sharply to her demolishing what had once been a shield wall of riot police. The instant Mirko hit someone the video jumped to her hitting someone else. It went on. And on. The longer the video played the more recent the clips became. Now she was fighting small time villains, then people vaguely recognizable as yakuza thugs.

"Did I say she was messing with the yakuza?" Kingslayer asked, stroking her chin. "My mistake, I meant to say" She leapt up, slamming her hands into her desk. "that Mirko broke their BLEEP-ing BACKS!" She was pacing now, eyes wide and hungry. "This glorious little BLEEP not only beat one of Tokyo PD's most decorated riot control detachments into submission, in the middle of the worst fire ever seen in a metropolitan area in decades, but in the six months since she – single handedly, mind you – tore the Inagawa-kai to BLEEP-ing SHREDS!" Kingslayer ran her hands through her hair, amped up.

"One of the largest and oldest Families. POOF! Out of business, just like that." She was practically slavering now, yellow eyes pulsing with excitement. "Word on the street is Mirko BLEEP-ing hates guns, so if you're a naughty little arms dealer, you might consider a career change. ROLL CLIP!"

At the end was a shot from a UA security camera in the USJ, which the show should NOT have access to. Mr. Aizawa was kicking butt and taking names. Then, in barely two frames of footage, Mirko flew into frame and smashed her foot into the side of his head. Mirko peeled Mr. Aizawa's goggles off and slipped them over her own eyes. Then she was mercilessly beating the green haired kid, Midoriya, in a cramped corridor. They were shouting at each other, but no words were audible. The last shot was of Mirko lunging at All Might with a crazed grin. It froze just before her foot hit his giant forearm.

Nejire nearly jumped out of her chair but restrained herself. She couldn't deny that Mirko was… violent. The footage from the USJ – well for starters HiTV shouldn't have access to it at all – was edited in a way that framed Mirko as much, much worse than she was. Yeah, she knocked out Mr. Aizawa, and yeah, she was fighting Midoriya at some point, but she and Midoriya seemed to know each other, or at least have some kind of civil relationship. AND! Mirko never attacked All Might! She used him as a giant springboard, but the way Kingslayer was showing it… The kicker was that they didn't show Mirko killing the Nomu monster. Hell, they didn't even show that the Riot cops from earlier had been brutalizing civilian protestors before Mirko intervened.

The video faded out, replaced with a candid head shot of Mirko, taken at an angle. Her eyes were half lidded, with mascara enhancing her already long lashes and heavy eyeshadow giving her an intense look. One that a lot of older or more conservative people would call villainous. They had to have touched up the picture too because Mirko's eyes didn't naturally glow.

Nejire puffed out her cheeks.

Kingslayer plopped into her chair and let out a long, satisfied groan. "God. BLEEP-ing. Damn! What a ride that was, eh? Mirko. Savior of Kamino, Yakuza Breaker, villainess extraordinaire, and apparently, leader of the new League of Villains, a nasty little criminal enterprise with its heart set on offing everyone's favorite symbol of peace. Whatever you wanna call her, Mirko's making waves!"

Nejire muted the TV sharply, sickened. She didn't want to hear any more.

Rumi rode the train out of Manda Station, intending to hop off at Musutafu and kick down the door to Hawks' agency. With nothing else to do on the train, she scrolled through recent events on her phone. Her outlook on life worsened significantly. Some talk show gossip-rag was going viral, and now her face was plastered all over the goddamn internet. Fucking unreal. To make things worse, at least for her, the media was just running with the idea that the whole USJ thing had been her idea and she was the one in charge. No wonder Kurogiri warned her off of Shigaraki. He was probably murderous right now.

For whatever stupid reason, better or worse, her cover had been preserved though. Shigaraki had to assume that All Might defeated Nomu in the end. There wasn't any other explanation for why she hadn't been terminated, as Kurogiri so charmingly phrased it.

That worked out fine for her since she hadn't been turned into a pile of dust. Still though, she was reluctant to burn bridges just yet, as Shigaraki wasn't behind bars. Never give up a strategic advantage. Hawks had been pretty clear on that one.

On the heroic side of things, Izuku, All Might, Nejire, and possibly Kacchan knew something was up. And that was honestly pretty fucking bad. It only takes one person to expose a secret, and the more people in the know, the faster things move. The biggest concern here was Izuku charging headfirst into the League to drag her home. That would get messy quickly.

The next was Nejire doing the same, though she seemed much more responsible and reasonable than any of the other witnesses there. Rumi though the chances of that were low. Besides, Nejire didn't know her that well. She had no reason to come out here.

As for Kacchan… She didn't want to think about him. That was still a fresh wound. Not that she was heartbroken. She was sad, but she was also pretty fucking pissed off about the whole thing. He could have at least asked. Or said 'hello'. Or something.

She nearly had a stroke when she saw the news about the Hero Commission bombing. Hawks' name was attached to about a million headlines, and none of them sounded optimistic. She put her phone down in a hurry and focused on breathing. The idea of Hawks being dead wasn't something she wanted to entertain. She was a professional though. Begrudgingly, and with knot of anxiety in her gut, scrolled through the news.

Hawks was alive.

He was in critical condition, but the Kentucky fried fuck-up was alive. "Oh, thank god." All right then. What the fuck was she going to do now? The train rolled to a stop. Rumi threw her hood up and gave it a tug before joining the bodies shuffling off the train. She blended easily with the crowd.

Wherever Hawks was being treated was unknown, but it was likely somewhere in Tokyo, which was a bit out of her way. With the commission blown sky high, well… she honestly wasn't sure. There was a defined chain of command, but she had no idea who was dead, who was in the hospital, and who was actually running the show.

She made her way through town, to the warehouse that Hawks had trained her in. The Roost. At the door, she snorted, nostalgic. The door was locked, naturally, so she hopped up to the roof and let herself in through one of the skylights. The inside was still as death.

In the back was a locker room with a shower and a small office. In the office, she sat, booted a computer, and tried to log into her commission account.

Error 14: User does not exist.

Rumi blinked and tried again, entering the password more carefully.

Error 14: User does not exist.

Well that was alarming. "Fuck." She pulled her phone and tried getting into her secured commission email client. That login didn't work either. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "Alright. That's fine." In a last-ditch effort, Rumi tried her operations account. It was a slush fund Hawks helped set up through the Cayman National Bank. She was able to log into that one, only to see a big fat zero where there should have been about fifty million yen. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

The bastards cut her loose. Froze her accounts, locked her out, changed the locks, however you wanted to describe it. They disavowed her. Washed their hands because the wind changed direction and she was now an inconvenience. A liability to some fucker in a suit that wanted to play politics. Never mind her life, or her loved ones, or anything related to the her, the person whose neck was actually on the line here. No support. No backup. No money. No proof that she was a licensed professional hero.

It was so hard to resist the urge to kick the desk across the room. She hurried out of the office, aimlessly pacing about the warehouse. She'd been so goddamn close to going home. So close! And now her face was plastered across the news, the, internet, social media. 'The psycho bunny that tried to fight All Might'. How the fuck did anyone ever get the idea that she was the League's leader? It was totally absurd! Being disavowed by the commission was just the cherry on top.

One of her best friends was possibly dying in some hospital right now, and she had no idea where. Her parents were getting the news that Rumi had been up to some bad shit in the worst possible way. Izuku probably thought she was dead, or god forbid, that she actually wanted to be with the League. Kacchan… he, well…

She crouched, pulling her ears down sharply. "Don't freak out, don't freak out. Just. Breathe." She stayed that way for a while. Bottling up the stress, the fear, the uncertainty, and locking it all away to deal with later. Or never.

The dam was cracking.

At noon, Katsuki Bakugo threw the door to the teachers lounge open. He skulked in, petulant, with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Toshinori smiled. "Ah, you must be Bakugo, come in, sit, sit. I'll fetch us some tea." He rose and hurried for the kettle, pouring two mugs of green tea, and shuffling back to the couches.

Bakugo hadn't taken a seat. "I'm supposed to meet All Might here." He groused, with a sour look on his face.

"Yes, it's unfortunate, but All Might wasn't able to make this appointment. He asked that I substitute for him. My name is Toshinori Yagi." He extended his hand with a smile.

Bakugo didn't shake it.

"Well… oh right, have a seat, please! Do you have lunch with you? Can I fetch you something?"

"I'm fine." He bit out. Sinking into one of the couches as though he were being brought to the headsman.

"Well we can't have that. Heroes can't go skipping meals." He retrieved two bento boxes, made by Lunch Rush, from a small fridge.

Bakugo didn't touch his. "This is a waste of time." He growled. "What the fuck is the point of All Might giving me detention if he isn't even going to show is stupid face?"

Toshinori sighed. This boy… "All Might is rather busy. Take it from me, it's an aspect of his career that he isn't terribly fond of." He opened his own lunch and picked at it. Lunch Rush always made delicious food, yet because of his old wounds, Toshinori could rarely partake of a full meal. It was a tragedy. After about five minutes of silence, he sighed, and sat up straighter. "Bakugo, tell me, what happened at the USJ?"

The reaction was immediate. Bakugo stood with a snarl and stomped to the door.

Toshinori closed his eyes. "How far do you think you'll realistically make it, Bakugo, with your anger running roughshod over your life?"

Bakugo paused in the door. "What? What the fuck do you think you know?" He seethed.

Nana. Give me strength. "More than you realize, young man."

"The fuck does it matter? Who even gives a shit? The only thing that makes a difference is whether I win or lose. That's it."

Toshinori chose his words carefully, speaking softly. "I believe that more people care about you than you realize." He rubbed absently at his wound. "and I believe that victory at all costs is a hollow, meaningless thing."

Bakugo left, slamming the door behind him.

Toshinori wasn't defeated though, no, he was just getting started.

In his lab, Overhaul paused while pulling on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves. The news had caught his attention as it played quietly on the radio. "So, that's what happened to the Inagawa-kai? Hmm…"

Chrono snorted. "Taken to task by a single teenager. Disgraceful."

Overhaul chuckled. "Well, remind me to send this Mirko a Christmas card. I wonder if she realizes the favor she's done us? Come along now… Eri."

"Everyone got a little roughed up. Uraraka got a black eye, Mineta lost a tooth (which fixed his lisp, oddly enough), and Yaoyorozu had a really bad concussion and had to be treated for quirk overload. Of all of us, Todoroki was hurt the worst. I can't believe he even made it to school today while missing half a kidney. He's really incredible!"

Izuku's pencil scratched softly across his journal. It had been a long, long, miserably long day, what with the news coverage of the USJ and the attack on the Hero Commission. He looked out the window, admiring how the brilliant orange light of the setting sun lit up Musutafu.

"Somehow, going to class today was worse than getting attacked yesterday. People were staring and whispering at first, which was kind of uncomfortable, but by lunchtime it was like everyone was in a frenzy. Suddenly everyone wanted to get to know 1-A and get all the gritty details about the fight. A lot of people asked me about fighting Mirko."

"Luckily some of my friends intervened. Ashido is really good at diverting conversations apparently, and Asui isn't afraid to tell people what she really thinks, but in a polite way. Nejire Hado even scared a couple people off in the hallway. She's really nice and has a lot of experience since she's one of the Big Three."

He started off the next sentence with Kacchan's name then stared for a moment. He sighed and erased it. He'd get to those feelings later.

"Everyone was feeling pretty grim by the final bell. After Mr. Aizawa left, Ashido basically pitched a fit and asked everyone to stick around for a minute before heading home. She went through the room, asked everyone if and how they got injured, and wrote a list on the blackboard. The point, she said, was that we all got our butts kicked, but we were all still alive and mostly healed. Except for Todoroki, but he's on his way. She said we were being too mopey and we should throw a party to get spirits up."

"Ashido was right, we all came away with scrapes and bruises, but there weren't any career ending injuries, and no one died. We're incredibly lucky! Anyway, long story short, I got invited to my first party! Well, one that isn't Rumi's birthday. But still, a party! With friends! It's at Yaoyorozu's house this weekend, and I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm excited."

"And Speaking of Rumi, I still haven't heard from her. I know it's only been a day, but I'm worried. She looked like she was pretty hurt after defeating Nomu, and they way she let herself fall through that portal scares me. I hope she's okay, and I wish she'd reach out. She still doesn't answer her old phone number, and her accounts are all still inactive. I wish I knew where she was."

"I don't even know what I'd say honestly. Maybe it's my turn to be upset about her doing stupid things?" He smiled a bit, recalling how mad she got when she learned about his broken legs. "I feel like that would be perfectly fair. Besides, even though watching Kingslayer trash Rumi was rough, I have a better idea of what she's been up to lately, which means I might have a better time tracking her down."

Izuku leaned back, thoughtful. He needed something to close out today's entry, but he was drawing a blank. He let his mind wander.

"Writers block?" Rumi asked.

Izuku jolted out of his chair, thoroughly startled.

There she was, sitting in the windowsill with one knee pulled to her chest. Her snowy hair seemed to blaze under the light of the sunset. She grinned. "What, Rabbit got your tongue?"

One for All surged, and Izuku moved, pulling her into a crushing hug in the blink of an eye. "What the hell were you thinking!?" She laughed in his ear and he though his legs were going to give out at the sound.

"Lots of stuff at the time, but mostly 'Ow, fuck!'."

He pulled back just enough to get a good look at her but wasn't about to let go. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Don't worry, I didn't forget our agreement. Conveniently, with the shit that went down in the last couple days I've suddenly found a pressing need to not be in Kamino. For a while, at least." Her eyes fluttered closed when he moved a lock of hair out of her face. Her ear automatically dipped down so he could tuck it back unobstructed. She nuzzled into his palm. "I want to come clean. About everything. Why I left, what I'm doing. Maybe cry a bit. Or a lot. Wanna split a box of tissues?" She waggled her eyebrows.

A little flicker of hope grew in his chest. His hands slid down to her waist. "Everything?" This was unreal, and because of that he was unwilling to take it at face value. Well… Almost. She was here, standing in his room, in his arms, saying she was willing to talk. Okay, he was lying to himself, he was absolutely going to take this at face value.

"Yup." Rumi said, popping the 'p'. "Everything. It's going to be long, and shitty, but honestly it's overdue." She brushed her lips against his neck, nipping once or twice. "Mama Midoriya's pulling a night shift tonight, right?"

He shivered. "Er, yeah, but how'd you know?" the Hawks Agency actually reached out to her in the wake of the Commission bombing. They were hoping to coordinate with local solos to keep the peace while Hawks was recovering. With the presence of UA in Musutafu, and the recent publication of All Might's new status as a UA teacher, this was probably the safest city in Japan. Still, it paid to be careful.

Rumi grinned that vicious little grin that always made his heart race. "'Cause I watched her leave before I came up."

"Oh." That made sense. Then he thought more about it. His face grew hotter than the surface of the sun. "Oh!"