"What?"
She'd first noticed it yesterday, after they'd spent all evening searching for an underground fight club that didn't exist.
And now, at the end of her second day of interning under the rabbit hero, fresh out of the shower and half-starved after spending hours and hours patrolling Corusco Ward, including pretending she gave a shit about random people's problems, dealing with low-life assholes and a single instance of a moron carjacking an old lady in front of them, Ryuko knew there was something 'off.' The only question was what. It was a simple question for a reason. It asked everything that needed to be asked. And then some. But sitting across the table from Mirko – Rumi Usagiyama, she reminded herself with memories of a sore shoulder – in a room too fancy for the same woman who drooled over fast food, she drew the fork dripping with baked chicken into her mouth and repeated her question, " …what?"
"First of all – don't talk with your mouth full," her own plate covered in half-eaten food and fork stabbing a particularly juicy piece of chicken, Rumi watched Ryuko continuously gorge herself with a mixture of disgust, fascination and confusion, "Second – I'm seriously having trouble figuring out where the hell you're putting it all."
Oh.
So, it was that.
"It's my Quirk," stating the blatantly obvious shouldn't have been such a big deal. Quirks were freaky. As in, they had freaky side effects. Some better, some worse. Izuku kept breaking his bones because he was too strong. Aoyama had his stomach issues. And Tsu couldn't stand cold weather. No Quirk was perfect, not even All Might's if his starved appearance was how he actually looked, "I have to eat to keep up my strength."
But as she sunk her teeth into some more chicken, chewed and swallowed, Ryuko found herself forced to explain everything.
Which she hated.
"I'm serious," it was her own fault. She should have known better. Everyone always asked the same question whenever they saw her eating after she'd used her Quirk longer than a few minutes. Well, more like half an hour. Or an hour, "Don't give me that look. A Quirk like mine ain't all sunshine. If I use it too long without taking a break, my body starts breaking down muscles and tissue for energy – at least, that's what dad always said. I just get really hungry. Sucks, but hey," the only one who hadn't asked about her voracious appetite was Mako, which was pretty self-explanatory, "It ain't like I'm paying for any of this."
Rolling her eyes and scoffing as she finished telling the same old story for the hundredth time, Ryuko reached towards more food only for the table to tremble.
The hell you aren't!"
Rumi considered herself many things.
A strong and independent heroine who clawed her way to the number five spot purely on her own strength and physical prowess.
The number one rabbit themed hero in the world.
The obsession of dozens, if not hundreds, of fan clubs, which was both flattering and creepy.
But not rich.
When she punched the table, her knuckles didn't so much sting as vibrate, "I couldn't care less about your Quirk!" the impact, bolstered by her lagomorphic physical strength, rattled their plates and sent a knife falling to the floor, "You want to eat as much as All Might, be my guest! Eat until you burst!" a twitch of her ears signaled the irritation materializing as a snarl matched only by Ryuko's strangely confused nonchalance, "But you're gonna pay for it! Understand!?"
"Huh?"
"Don't 'huh' me," one of Rumi's maroon eyes narrowed more than the other as she jabbed her fork towards Ryuko, bits of vegetables flying through the air and landing on said teen's face, which started twitching, "When I accepted your application, nobody told me you had the appetite of a goddamn dragon! Unless you wanna get kicked to the curb, you're going to start paying for your own food!"
Ryuko glared at Rumi.
Rumi glared harder.
"Screw that," she countered that glare by snorting out the side of her mouth, glaring at a random spot on the floor and mentally willing the conversation over, "And why do you even care?" unwilling to let the hero's cheap and underhanded punch slide, Ryuko stabbed her plate. And missed because she hadn't been looking, "UA's paying for everything."
The tanned heroine's bewildered expression shouted a lot louder than mere words.
"…really?" it wasn't so much the realization her mentor for the week hadn't known something so obvious, but Rumi blaming Nezu under her breath that made her seriously consider smashing her head against the table until the pain stopped, "You didn't know?"
Rumi shrugged, which would have been fine if she hadn't almost been sporting an embarrassingly wide smirk, "You expected me to read the fine print?"
And now she really wanted to bash her head against the nearest object, "Oh my god, you're stupid!"
"HA! As if!"
Seemingly taking the insult in stride, Rumi threw her head back and laughed, "You think I bought this apartment with my good looks and feminine charm? Hell no! I goddamn haggled that thieving realtor until he was on the verge of crying!" her chuckling slowed into breathless tittering, "You should have seen the look in his seven eyes when I stopped pretending I didn't understand that legal mumbo jumbo. The guy almost pissed his freaking pants! You ever see a five-hundred-pound Komodo Dragon start having a panic attack? It's almost as hilarious as catching a two-bit schemer in the middle of a crime!"
Several strands of crimson-dyed hair fluttered in front of Ryuko's nose.
But she didn't say anything.
Her sanity depended on nodding, remaining silent and hoping Rumi eventually moved on.
"You know, I wasn't originally planning on doing this. I mean, c'mon. Me? Babysitting a first-year runt who doesn't know the first thing about being a professional hero? Pfft! I'd rather go to the dentist," Rumi rested her cheek on her fingers, sighing softly as a silver bracelet shifted down her arm, "But you?" red eyes snapped towards Ryuko, "You already know how to kick ass and take names. I don't need to hold your hand or tell you want to do. And unlike, well, most of your friends, you're not afraid of getting hurt. Hero work ain't for the weak of heart. You're gonna get hurt. Or bruised. And possibly killed. That too much for you? Find yourself a new line of work and leave the heroics to people like us! Guess what I'm saying is, maybe I was wrong about you."
Ryuko's eyes almost rolled out their sockets.
"That's bullshit," she slouched in her chair, if only to reach more food, "An hour ago you were complaining I was holding you back."
"And I meant every word. Hate it? Prove me wrong," more amused she'd been overheard than flustered she'd said anything in the first place, Rumi sat back and grinned, "Oh, I spoke to those cops who arrested that shoplifter you clotheslined early this morning," up at seven, out the door by seven thirty and patrolling by eight. That was her schedule and absolutely nothing on earth could change it, "So, when were you gonna tell me you were working on a new move?"
Ryuko scrapped her fork against her plate, dragging a heaping pile of vegetables, meat and assorted juices and sauces into her mouth, "When hell froze over."
"Something like that ain't for standard crimefighting or patrolling," Rumi searched for the right words before giving up, "I'm gonna guess it's for someone special. A villain, perhaps?"
"Gee, you figured it out," the sarcasm in Ryuko's voice was palpable, "You gonna snitch on me?"
"You kidding!?"
The older heroine almost spat out her food, "Do what you wanna do! Get stronger! And unless you want me to kick your ass, you're gonna buckle down and keep practicing that new move until you get it right!" with a vocabulary modestly less vulgar than her own or Bakugo's, Rumi jabbed a thumb against her chest and smirked, "Villains don't sit around on their asses! Why should we? You want to unleash that move against that psycho? Go ahead! But if you want someone to practice it on, how about we hop on out after dinner and train. Just you and me. What do you say?"
It was a good idea.
It sounded really helpful.
But like hell would she admit as much.
"Yeah, whatever," Ryuko shrugged, the not-so-subtle clicking of her tongue against her teeth giving away how she truly felt, "As long as you stop using those stupid rabbit puns."
Clang!
Clang!
Two forks simultaneously struck the last remaining baked chicken breast.
And every drop of goodwill forcibly cultured between Rumi and Ryuko immediately burst into flames.
"Let. Go," punctuating both words for emphasis as her ass slowly lifted off the chair, if only to give her better leverage, Ryuko's eyebrow twitched when Rumi did the same thing.
"Was that an order?" the last five minutes vanished. The camaraderie developed between herself and Ryuko? Volunteering her time to help Ryuko develop her new move? Agreeing that Couturier or whatever the psycho nobody could remember needed to die, and not only die, but die in an embarrassing way? All that was cast to the wayside. Responding towards the half-threat, half-demand by stabbing her fork through the piece of abused chicken until metal clanged against porcelain, Rumi's grin turned vicious, "Because it sounded like you were telling me what to do."
"Guess you are smart."
Nothing else needed to be said, yet as she attempted dragging the last piece of chicken onto her plate, Ryuko found herself unable to do so, but with a little elbow grease and a subtle push of her Quirk, she overcame that obstacle only to have her efforts rendered meaningless when Rumi exchanged the fork for her wrist and squeezed.
"You're really trying my patience," the entire table shifted as the rabbit hero bolted to her feet, maroon eyes glaring into darkening cerulean, "So, unless you want to get roundhouse kicked to kingdom come, you'll back off!"
Teetering on the edge of annoyance and irritation, Ryuko lashed out, "For a hero, you ain't very heroic."
She grabbed Rumi's blouse.
Or, at least, she'd been in the process of grabbing the hero's white blouse.
Because halfway through the motion, gravity inverted itself. It was only later, after the dust settled and she had a chance to get her memories in sequential order, that she'd come to realize Rumi had countered her counterattack by launching her across the table and into the adjacent living room. She remembered hitting a wall. And hitting it hard. Then a massive headache when she slid downwards and hit her head against the floor. But that was only the physical pain. The emotional and spiritual pain followed when Rumi strutted across the living room, chicken dangling from her fork and a shit-eating grin stretched across her face.
"Nice try, Ryuko," tearing a large bite out of the sought-after prize, Rumi lingered long enough to rub her victory before turning around and walking back to the table, her tail taunting Ryuko every step of the way, "But it'll be a cold day in hell before I let some teenage punk get the better of me."
