When Rumi was finally discharged from the hospital, it felt like a dream. She sat quietly as the plan was explained to her, nodding when she was supposed to, but barely hearing a word the doctors, her PR people, or anybody else said. If they noticed, none of them commented.

Honestly, it just felt off, leaving like this. Rumi hadn't put much thought into the future of her long road back to heroics, but she'd always sort of assumed that her exit would be triumphant, a final declaration that she was back. She thought she would feel excited, or proud, or eager to get back to work. Instead, the whole thing seemed anticlimactic, at least from the way it was explained to her. Her hero agency was sending a car to take her home, and that was that.

Maybe it was because Rumi wasn't recovered. She knew that without even having to ask Izuku, honestly. She could feel it in the unsteady way she still tottered around, how she struggled to stay balanced on mismatched legs of flesh and plastic. Hell, even if she'd still had all her limbs, Rumi could feel the way her body had softened and weakened from long weeks spent as an invalid. Izuku had started to help her get back into fighting shape, but that was going to be a hard road all by itself.

So, leaving the hospital without fanfare felt a little surreal to Rumi. She knew why it felt that way, though; this wasn't the end of her recovery like she'd once assumed. No, there was a lot more work to do yet. She had to relearn how to walk, move, and even fight, all to accommodate the more advanced, customized prosthetics that she hadn't even gotten yet. Izuku had told her that he was working on it, but that "Complex, custom-made design and prototyping doesn't happen overnight, and it happens even slower when my asshole boss has me on babysitting duty."

Personally, Rumi was fairly sure Izuku was more annoyed with himself for slow progress, but whatever.

Speaking of Izuku, Rumi became mildly annoyed with herself as she slowly made her way towards a side exit of the hospital. The reason for her irritation became clear as her eyes landed on Izuku, who was waiting for her against the wall, wearing his usual warm, steady smile, where only his twinkling eyes betrayed the harder edge to his personality. Rumi felt herself cheering up just from his presence…which only made her more annoyed.

Seriously, what was going on with her? Why could Izuku make her day so much brighter just by being there? It made Rumi want to punch something…though if she did, she would probably fall over, and then Izuku would pick her up, which would make her even more annoyed…

Rumi shook herself from her thoughts as she reached Izuku. He nodded in greeting as he said, "It's about time you showed up."

Rumi raised an eyebrow. "Not even a hello?" she asked indignantly. "Or, I don't know, a "Hey, Rumi, nice to see you're out of the hospital?"

Izuku chuckled as he rose up to his full height (and that was another thing that annoyed Rumi, the fact that Izuku was taller than she was, and it wasn't even close.) He replied, "You aren't out of the hospital yet, though."

Rumi rolled her eyes. Gesturing at the door in front of them, she said, "Oh, my mistake. After all, I'm more than three feet away from the door. Of course that doesn't count as being out of the hospital."

Izuku grinned. "My, someone's sassy today," he teased, even as he began to reach for the door himself.

Rumi began to reply, but she was interrupted by one of the nurses, who ran up and said urgently, "Sorry to interrupt, Doctor Midoriya, but there's a problem."

Izuku looked irritated, but his voice was perfectly calm and reasonable as he turned and asked, "What's going on?"

The nurse hesitated for a second, clearly looking for the best way to explain it. As she did, Rumi suddenly became aware of a dull roaring sound coming from the other side of the door. Her ears twitched as she turned slightly, trying to figure out what it was. Suspicion grew in her mind as she recognized shouting, and the snapping sounds of cameras.

At last, as Izuku grew more and more impatient, the nurse blurted out, "The press found out."

Izuku's eyes hardened, and he turned fluidly, brushing past Rumi and yanking the door open. Instantly, the roar grew ten times louder. Rumi's ears flattened against her head as she heard shouted questions and caught a glimpse of the all-too-familiar sight of paparazzi.

"How the hell did they figure out when I was getting discharged?" she asked worriedly as Izuku slammed the door shut again. "I thought the hospital and my agency agreed not to publicize it!"

Izuku was scowling as he shrugged and replied, "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Did someone leak it?" Rumi wondered, anger rising up in her chest.

"Maybe," Izuku said, his voice surprisingly even. "I doubt it, though. More likely they just saw the car your agency sent and figured out what was going on. There's been a press presence in the area ever since the raid that got so many heroes hurt."

Rumi blinked. She hadn't even noticed that, or thought about it. "Wait, really?" she said, surprised.

Izuku nodded. "Yeah," he confirmed, "it's mostly tabloid reporters and such now; all the reputable journalists cleared out a while ago. Odds are it's just a couple dozen parasites out there right now."

Rumi swallowed heavily, fighting to keep the concern off her face. "Should…should we wait, do you think?" she asked. "Until they go away?"

Izuku looked at Rumi, seriousness mixing with the scrutiny that Rumi knew from experience could cut through anything she ever tried to hide. "Why would we wait?" he countered. "It's just the media."

Rumi took a deep breath. "Y-yeah," she agreed weakly. "The media."

Izuku's eyes narrowed. "Rumi, are you okay?" he asked, his voice not quite gentle, but not accusing, either.

"I'm fine!" Rumi snapped, just a little too fiercely to be convincing. She softened rapidly as she admitted, "I…I just don't like the thought of the tabloids seeing me like this."

"Like what?" Izuku prompted.

Rumi's gaze fell towards the ground. "You know what I mean," she said quietly.

Izuku stared at her for a long moment, and Rumi fought the urge to wilt. At last, Izuku said, "Rumi, stop acting like a coward."

Incensed, Rumi's head shot back up, eyes blazing. "What did you just call me?" she demanded.

Izuku didn't flinch; his expression was stony and even. "Nothing," he replied. "You're acting cowardly, and I know for a damn fact you're the bravest person I've ever met. Now, stop worrying so much about the damn media."

Rumi reeled a little from the words; the praise mixed in with the harsh, blunt tone Izuku only used when they both knew she was being stupid was the last thing she'd expected. He was right, and she knew it, but…well, she was stubborn.

Plaintively, Rumi muttered, "That's easy for you to say."

"Sure it is," Izuku agreed, "But it's still true. You have to go out there sooner or later, and there's no point hiding from it."

Rumi glared at Izuku, but her irritation slid off him like water, and a moment later she sagged in defeat.

"Fine," she sighed. "Just make it quick."

Izuku nodded, and took her arm, letting her lean on him for support. Rumi was certain that that would only make her look weak, but she couldn't really fight it; after all, she did need that help making her way down the stairs. Flat ground, she could manage just fine, but she still struggled with climbing and descending stairs…a lot. And she'd rather not fall flat on her face in front of the media.

She grumbled relentlessly as Izuku threw the door wide open, and they slowly made their way outside, into the flash of cameras and the roar of dozens of people shouting questions at them.

Thankfully, hospital security had already cleared a path to the car that sat waiting; they would only be exposed to the paparazzi for a few moments. It still felt like an eternity.

Rumi tuned out every last bit of the noise; she didn't want to hear the questions, the demands to know every little detail of her recovery. She didn't like to think about what they'd probably make of her leaning on Izuku as she walked, or of the fact that she wasn't wearing a prosthetic arm at all, instead opting to simply tie off the empty sleeve of her shirt.

It was a few torturous heartbeats before Rumi let Izuku help her into the car, before he slid into the seat right next to her. Only then could she breathe again.

As the door slammed shut and the noise of the press faded behind the rumble of the car leaving the hospital lot, Izuku leaned back and sighed, "Damn. I can't imagine having to put up with that shit daily. I'm glad I'm not famous."

Rumi snorted in agreement, but found herself confused by Izuku's statement. "Aren't you the Hero Wrangler?" she asked. "Seems like you're pretty famous to me."

Izuku turned his head to look at her, his expression as unreadable as it usually was. "I'm well known in my field," he corrected. "That's pretty different from being famous, let alone that kind of famous."

Rumi joked, "Well, seeing as you just walked through a sea of cameras with me, I'd get ready to be famous soon."

Izuku rolled his eyes. "Please, that's not gonna happen. I'm just a random plain-looking guy in a coat to those reporters. No way they make a big deal out of me."

Rumi found herself irritated by Izuku's words, and she didn't know why. They were true, for crying out loud! Well, maybe not the part about him being plain… wait, since when did she care about that?

As Rumi wrestled her confused, conflicted feelings back down, Izuku added, "Besides, they'd turn tail and run as soon as I opened my mouth and revealed that I'm an asshole."

Rumi frowned. "You're not an asshole," she said. Regret flooded through her immediately; why had she said that? Why did it seem so important to change his mind?

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "I kinda am," he countered. "You don't have to sugarcoat it, Rumi. I know I'm a dick."

"You helped me, though," Rumi pointed out, still wondering why she was getting into this argument.

"Yeah, by being an asshole," Izuku snorted. Rumi fell silent; she knew he had a point there. At the end of the day, it had been Izuku's refusal to let Rumi wallow in her own misery, and willingness to bulldoze through her anger, that had let him get through to her.

Instead of arguing further, Rumi turned to gaze out the window. Bright sunlight streamed between buildings, hundreds of people flitted by quicker than she could even blink. It felt so odd, to be here. Rumi felt like an outsider, looking at a world she barely even felt like she was part of anymore. Her world had shrunk down to that hospital room, and she'd been trapped there by her own body. Now, she had to figure out how to go back.

"God, it feels like I'd forgotten that the outside world even existed," she mused aloud.

"It's easy to do that, sometimes," Izuku agreed softly, making Rumi jump at the realization that he'd overheard. "To get so bogged down in your own mind, your own war, that you lose track of where you are in the bigger picture."

Rumi turned to look back at him, a million questions suddenly bubbling up as Izuku seemingly let down his guard a little. "Was it like that for you?" Rumi asked, nodding down at the hidden prosthetic attached to Izuku's arm.

Izuku frowned, stormclouds seeming to roll across his face. Rumi saw his grip on his false wrist tighten unconsciously.

When several seconds passed without an answer, Rumi's ears wilted. Slowly, she said, "Sorry. Forget I said anyth-"

"Yeah," Izuku admitted weakly, his voice soft and unsteady. "Yeah, it was."

Rumi blinked in surprise. When she met Izuku's gaze, she saw a deeper well of emotion in his eyes than she'd thought him capable of.

Izuku took another soft breath, and continued, "When I took those first few steps out of the hospital after months trapped inside, it felt…it felt like being born again, in a way. It was jarring, though; I realized that the world had continued as normal, that my life crashing down around me hadn't changed everything the way I thought it had. I couldn't decide if that was encouraging or discouraging."

Rumi could feel Izuku's words hitting home; she realized that she knew exactly what he meant. She was on the precipice of that same moment herself.

"What did you decide, in the end?" she wondered.

Izuku quirked one side of his mouth upwards, forming a bitter smirk. His eyes were distant and pained as he replied, "I never did. Even now, I still wonder. I'm not sure if there is an answer."

They were silent all the way back home, after that.

The drive to Rumi's apartment wasn't that long; Rumi hadn't realized how close to the hospital she'd lived, though she sure appreciated the convenience. Within twenty minutes, they were standing outside the building, which wasn't anything special from the outside, just one of hundreds of high-end condos in this part of the city. Rumi didn't really care about any of that, if she was being honest; she didn't spend much time at her apartment anyway. It was a place to crash when she wasn't at her agency or on patrol, not much more.

And now, she had nowhere else to be. Even though Rumi knew she could probably go to her agency if she really wanted to, she also knew there was no reason to. If she was gonna be trapped somewhere feeling sorry for herself, she'd rather it be where nobody else could see.

Behind her, Izuku climbed out of the car, his head turning to take in the street around them.

"Damn, I just realized I know where this is," he observed as he walked up beside Rumi. "We can't be more than a couple blocks from my place."

Rumi turned to look at him with a surprised look on her face. "Wait, you live around here?" she asked.

Izuku nodded. "Yeah. Only about fifteen minutes that way," he confirmed, pointing down the street, through a snarl of bright lights and gleaming glass buildings and more people than Rumi had ever known existed.

Rumi shook off her surprise as Izuku held the door open for her. She'd known that Izuku would still be coming to see her, and meeting her at the hospital, but she hadn't realized that he would be so close. Somehow, that made her feel better. The tangle of dark thoughts sitting in her chest shrank, just a little bit.

"Is that why your boss assigned you to me, you think?" she wondered as her slow but determined gait carried her towards the elevator. "You were close enough to make it convenient?"

Izuku snorted as he replied, "He'd probably say that if I asked him, but I doubt it's true. Nah, he just did it because he's an asshole."

"Sounds like the pot's calling the kettle black there, Doc," Rumi quipped. Izuku raised an eyebrow as the elevator doors closed behind them, and Rumi hit the button for her floor.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, that's a compliment coming from me," Izuku explained with a grin. "I respect Danryoku's commitment to making my life hell, honestly. It takes real commitment to fuck with somebody that much."

Rumi chuckled despite herself. "Am I really that bad?" she wondered, her voice light and free. She wondered how she already knew the answer well enough to make the question a joke and not a worried inquiry.

Izuku lazily raised an eyebrow. "You've dragged more of my past out of me in a couple weeks than anyone else has in years," he replied. "You're the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met."

Rumi grinned. "The feeling's mutual, Doc," she told him.

Izuku returned the expression. "I sure fucking hope it is," he told her. "I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

Rumi rolled her eyes as the elevator doors opened. Thank God she didn't have to walk up a bunch of stairs to get to her apartment; indeed, it wasn't even that long of a walk down the hall.
However, it was long enough to make Rumi wonder aloud, "Honestly, I'm kinda surprised you live in a neighborhood like this. I don't know a ton of my neighbors, but the ones I do know are all heroes or rich assholes."

"There's a difference?" Izuku asked, smirking. Rumi swung a light punch at him, just enough to sting a bit without making her lose her balance.

Rubbing his shoulder and wincing, Izuku said, "Alright, point taken. As for how I can afford it, well…I'm a specialist in one of the most in-demand and competitive fields of medicine in the world, at the most prestigious hospital in Japan. I do just fine."

Rumi nodded thoughtfully, and as a result she almost missed Izuku add in a mutter, "Besides, what else am I gonna do with the money?"

Rumi's sensitive hearing picked up the words, and her white ears pricked towards the sky. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

Izuku looked surprised for a moment. He looked as though he was about to end the conversation, but then he took a long, deep breath and shrugged instead.

"I'm a bit of a workaholic," he admitted. "I don't really do much else other than my job. Hell, I'm barely at my apartment, most of the time; it's just a place I go to sleep, really."

Rumi's thoughts rose up and swarmed her again; wrestling them down, she replied, "I suppose that's another thing we have in common, then. I couldn't tell you how many times I've just crashed in my agency's break room so I would be there if villain bullshit went down."

Izuku looked thoughtful as Rumi unlocked her front door, but if he wanted to reply, he didn't get the chance. Instead, as the door swung open, Izuku followed Rumi inside.

Sure enough, the apartment was sparsely decorated, the kind brought not by a conscious choice, but because nobody cared enough about the place to add a personal touch. Izuku saw very little personalization, either; no family pictures, no scuffed furniture with a history long enough to fill a book, none of the little odds and ends that inevitably filled any home over years. Everything from the kitchen off to one side near the door to the slivers of other rooms he could make out through doors left ajar seemed soulless, without the kind of unique personality any home inevitably developed to match its owner. His own apartment was the same, and could have swapped places with Rumi's without either of them noticing for days. Just about the only part of the place that didn't look like it had come straight out of a catalogue was the well-appointed, comprehensive home gym that filled one corner of the large central room of the apartment.

Rumi closed the door behind them, the mismatched click of her false foot against the hardwood floor echoing and making her apartment feel lonelier and emptier than it already did.

"Like I said," she repeated, just a little embarrassed, "I don't exactly spend a lot of time here. Honestly, I'm just glad the building comes with cleaners, otherwise we'd both be sneezing from all the dust right now."

Izuku nodded thoughtfully. He cracked his knuckles-making Rumi wonder if he'd specifically added a knuckle-cracking feature to his prosthetic arm, or if that was just a design quirk-and announced, "Alright, let's get to work moving stuff around."

Rumi blinked in confusion. "Wait, why?" she asked as Izuku strode forwards.

Izuku turned back to look at her, the look of slight exasperation he got when he had to explain himself on his face. "Rumi, you've got two missing limbs," he reminded her. "That's gonna make a lot of stuff harder, including shit you don't even think about doing. Trust me, we need to do some rearranging or you'll get stuck on the couch and be completely unable to get up by yourself."

Rumi winced just from the thought. "Fine," she muttered, her eyes landing on the kitchen and instantly brightening as she recalled one thing she did have in her apartment. "Just…gimme a second to grab something, alright?"

"Fine," Izuku replied. Rumi swiftly made her way into the kitchen, bracing herself as she hauled the refrigerator door open. With any luck, her stash should still be good…

Bingo. With a grin, Rumi reached into one of the drawers, and withdrew a fresh carrot. She took a satisfied bite as she closed the door again…only to find Izuku standing there, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unamused.

"Really?" he asked. "You could at least try not to be that easy to predict."

Rumi shrugged, the carrot still firmly clamped between her teeth as she replied, "What can I say, Doc? I am a rabbit."

Izuku groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he was developing a migraine. "First of all, never call me Doc while you're eating a carrot like that again," he demanded. "Second of all, Rumi, I'm your doctor. I know as well as you do that your quirk doesn't affect your digestive system or what diet you can eat."

Rumi snorted. Just because it was true didn't mean she had to admit it. Honestly, she just really liked carrots. She didn't know if it was a rabbit thing or not, she just fucking loved them. She definitely didn't have a problem, though. No, absolutely not.

"Why are you annoyed about this? Shouldn't you be proud of me for eating healthy?" she pointed out.

Izuku replied, "I may not be a nutritionist, but I made it through medical school. I know that carrots are not that healthy, and they would be even less healthy for you if you did have to eat like a rabbit. Besides, nothing is good for you if it's all you eat."

"What are you talking about?" Rumi demanded, a nervous twinge in her voice as she tried to nudge the refrigerator door fully shut. "It's definitely not all I ea-"

Quicker than lightning, Izuku crossed the kitchen, yanking the fridge wide open. Rumi's ears slowly wilted as the fridge's contents became clear.

It was all carrots. In every drawer, on every shelf. There were a few other things here and there, but more than two-thirds of the fridge was taken up by fresh carrots. Crouching down to get a better look at the inside of the fridge, Izuku squinted meaningfully up at Rumi, as though inviting her to continue her protests.

"I…usually eat takeout," she explained. "This is all I usually use this fridge for. Carrots."

"A carrot fridge," Izuku repeated acidly. "Yeah, because that's so much better."

Rumi shrugged, taking another bite out of the carrot in her mouth. "I can stop eating them anytime I want," she assured him.

Izuku stood back up to his full height, once again pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache.

"The Number Five Hero is a carrot addict," he muttered to himself. "Fucking wonderful. You know what? This isn't my problem. I'm not dealing with this."

"Hey! I'm not an addict!" Rumi protested. She finished her carrot with a savory crunch, then stealthily reopened the fridge to grab another. Izuku watched her pop it in her mouth with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure you're not," he agreed, turning and heading back towards the main room. "Now, are you coming to help me, or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Rumi grumbled as she polished off the second carrot in two bites. Man, she had missed these things while she was in the hospital. Maybe being home again wouldn't be so bad after all.

From the other room, Izuku yelled, "If you don't get here in five seconds, I'm going to move every bit of furniture in this house exactly three and a half inches to the left!"

Rumi hurriedly grabbed yet another carrot from the fridge, before slamming the door shut as she made her way towards Izuku as quickly as her inexperienced gait could carry her.

"Don't you fucking dare!" she yelled back, a giant, unconscious grin on her face.

"Oh no, too late!" Izuku called out in a melodramatic voice. "I've already started!"

As Rumi hobbled out of the kitchen, she realized that for the first time since she'd learned she was leaving the hospital, she was happy. For a moment, the sun shone brighter, and she felt like she could finally say she was getting better.

But there was still a yawning void in her chest, and the happiness did little more than paper over it. Worse, Izuku was the cause of that happiness; what would happen when he left again? Rumi knew she wouldn't see him again for a few days…but those few days loomed in her mind as if they were years.

For now, though, Rumi tamped down her worries and returned to Izuku's side. She could pretend everything was okay, just for a little while.

Even if she couldn't do it forever.