Rumi wasted no time changing into something at least presentable; a dark shirt-with maybe a slightly too-deep v-neck, not that she was hoping Izuku would notice or anything-plus a pair of blue jeans just to make sure her prosthetic wasn't too visible, in case the coloration somehow failed. She was back out in her living room in no time at all, and, to her secret vindication, Izuku's gaze lingered a little longer on her this time than it had before.

At last, though, he smiled. "Shall we?" he asked, holding the front door open for her.

She nodded. "Yeah," she said softly. "Let's get going."

Throwing on a baseball cap with holes cut out for her ears and a pair of sunglasses to try and disguise herself at least a little bit-she was a Top Ten hero, it came with the territory-she walked down the hall on slightly unsteady legs, still getting used to the more complex prosthetic, but all the work she'd been putting in paid off; she didn't fall, and barely even stumbled, though Izuku hovered by her side, arm permanently outstretched just in case she needed the support. The stairs were a little trickier, but Rumi insisted on taking them over the elevator; she'd never run from a challenge, and she sure wasn't starting now.

At last, she reached the doors. Throwing them open with her two hands, one flesh and one metal, Rumi took two steps out onto the street in front of her apartment building, and just…stopped.

She'd been outside the hospital before, and had even ventured out of her apartment once or twice-and yet, standing here, under the blue sky and the gentle breeze, it felt like the first time she had seen the sky since before the raid.

It felt…like coming home at last. For a moment, she simply closed her eyes and…let it soak in. The sounds, the smells, all of it. She was, finally, able to be part of the world again.

She didn't even realize she'd come to a halt until Izuku came up beside her, his hand gently curving around her back to touch her on the opposite hip.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

Rumi nodded slowly. "Yeah," she breathed after a moment. "Yeah, just…been a while, y'know?"
Izuku's gentle smile made it clear that he did know. She supposed that made sense; he had been in her place before, had felt these things himself. Perhaps that was what made him such a good doctor, despite his otherwise…lacking…bedside manner.

"So," he said after giving Rumi a few moments to simply bask in the feeling of being connected to it all again, "You want to find this place you were telling me about?"

Rumi shook her head, finally getting a grip. "Alright," she said, pointing with her new prosthetic, still marveling at how different it felt to the lifeless hunk of metal and plastic she'd had before. "It's this way. Not far; a few blocks, maybe."

She started to head in that direction, walking slowly but deliberately; Izuku followed, though one too many wobbles in her step soon made him roll his eyes and lace his arm through hers.

Rumi's eyes snapped to him as he did so, matching her stride easily and making their position look perfectly natural. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed under her breath.

Izuku raised an eyebrow breezily, utterly unbothered by her obvious irritation. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said easily. "I didn't realize you wanted to stumble and take a dive directly into the road."

In response, Rumi scowled. "I have it under control, Doc," she snapped. "I'm not gonna fall."

Izuku shrugged. "Maybe not," he allowed, "But no reason to risk it, yeah? Besides, this way your gait is more natural, so you won't be recognized as easily."

Rumi blinked. "I'm in a disguise," she shot back.

Slowly, Izuku turned his head, looking at her with sarcasm burning in his gaze. "Miss Rumi, you're wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses," he said dryly. "Given the fact that you have bunny ears and bright white hair, that does not count as a disguise."

It might have been expected for Rumi to get offended at that, but instead, she grinned.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" she drawled as they navigated the sidewalks, turning a corner, side-stepping other pedestrians and whizzing cars.

The sheer confidence in her voice made Izuku's step falter, if only briefly. He turned to her, skepticism plain in his expression.

Rumi chuckled as a pair of young children zipped past them, their mother in harried pursuit. "I've been wearing this exact disguise for years, Izuku," she said dryly. "Nobody has ever recognized me. It's dumb as hell, but it works."

Izuku frowned deeply. "I don't believe you," he said mildly. "You're one of the most recognizable heroes in the country. Hell, you have a mutation quirk; it's not like you can hide even when you're off duty."

The only response he received from Rumi was a shrug. "Look, it's not like I understand why it works," she replied. "I just know that it does."

Izuku scowled, but said nothing, especially with each group of pedestrians they passed who utterly failed to recognize the woman with dark brown skin, white hair, and incredibly obvious rabbit ears walking by them. By the time they reached the cafe, he looked about ready to scream in frustration.

"How the fuck does that work?" he demanded. "I refuse to accept that you can just… do that!"

Rumi snickered as they headed to the counter to order. "Tough shit, Doc," she replied, neglecting to mention the fact that they'd been so busy good-naturedly arguing that they hadn't realized they had remained arm-in-arm the whole walk over. "Guess I just know better."

Izuku huffed, but said nothing more about it as they ordered from the barista of the small, cozy coffee shop; it was one of the ones that only a local would know about, the kind of place where every chair and table was mismatched to all the others, but was still sinfully comfortable anyway.

Once they'd gotten their drinks, Izuku and Rumi found a small table near the windows. Izuku took a small test sip of his coffee, and whistled appreciatively.

"That is good," he said with the religiosity of a man far too familiar with bad instant coffee to be healthy. Looking up at her curiously, he demanded, "How the hell do you know about this place? I thought you didn't spend a lot of time at home."

Rumi shrugged, a slightly sheepish smile on her face as she admitted, "I don't…but if there's one thing I do know, it's where to find caffeine. I…probably rely on it more than I should, honestly."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "That's a bold admission to make to a doctor," he said mildly. "Also, you being on caffeine binges half the time makes a lot of your hero work make way, way too much sense."

Rumi snorted. "Thanks for that," she said dryly. "Besides, the only reason I told you is because I know you're probably in no position to be throwing stones there, Mr. Workaholic."

Frowning, Izuku opened his mouth to respond, only to stop before any words came out. Running a hand through his perpetually-tormented hair, he muttered, "Okay, yeah, you've got a point."

Seeing that she had-finally-won an argument against him, Rumi chuckled as she took a sip of her own drink.

For a while, they stayed quiet, simply enjoying their drinks and the cozy atmosphere. But eventually, Rumi lowered her cup, and met Izuku's eyes.

"So," she asked. "What's…next, for me?"

Izuku looked up at her; his expression wasn't quite surprised, but it wasn't far off, either. "Next?" he said. "My, someone's impatient."

Rumi huffed a little at that, but there was a smile on her face as she replied, "I'm not impatient, I'm just…I'm feeling good, Doc. I want to keep going. I don't want to slow down my recovery."

Izuku raised an eyebrow skeptically. Rumi felt something in her heart twitch as she realized that he saw right through her.

Still, the next words out of his mouth were playful. "Well, as far as the hospital is concerned, me delivering those final prosthetics is the end of your recovery," Izuku said evenly. "You're free. There's still plenty to do if you want to get back into fighting form-and you'll need actual hero-grade combat prosthetics for that too-but, officially, you're healed and no longer our problem."

Rumi…should have felt better about that. Wasn't she through the tunnel? Wasn't she better now? Something still gave her pause. "And…unofficially?" she asked.

Izuku grinned, though it was tempered with understanding and sympathy . "Unofficially, you and I both know that's a load of bullshit," he replied. "Also, in my esteemed professional opinion, every other hero prosthetic designer in this country is a fucking hack, and I'd sooner cut off my other arm than let you get some pile of junk strapped to you by one of them."

Rumi couldn't help it; she burst out in a laugh, letting some of the worry in her chest drain out with it. "As humble as ever, Doc," she chuckled.

Izuku just shrugged. "It's not arrogance if I really am the best," he replied, though his smile began to fade as he added, "Besides…someone needs to look after you."

Rumi's face once again fell, then grew guarded; she wasn't quite icy or hostile, but she was not laughing, either.

"You don't need to do that," she said sullenly. "I can take care of myself, Izuku."

Izuku raised an eyebrow; his fingers-the flesh ones, not the metal-drummed on the tabletop as he said, "Yeah, about that: I don't believe you."

Rumi's eyes darkened, but she said nothing. Instead, she listened as Izuku continued, "Rumi, be honest with me. If I left you alone, would you be able to pull yourself out of a funk like the one I found you in a few weeks ago?"

Rumi…hesitated. Then said nothing, which was an answer all by itself.

Izuku sighed. "There's no shame in that, Rumi," he said, forceful and hard in a way that shoved his words into Rumi's soul. "Believe that, if nothing else. It's okay to rely on others. One way or another, I'm not fucking leaving you to deal with this on your own. Somebody needs to be there for you when you need it. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid. And you know why? You know what I hear when you say "I don't want to slow down?"

Rumi raised her head. "What?" she asked softly.

"You sound like you're trying to run from something, Rumi," Izuku said mildly, but with a warning in his voice. "Let me guess: you're scared of feeling like you're stuck again. You think that if you keep moving forward, you don't ever have to feel that depressed again."

Rumi winced. Slowly, she muttered, "Jeez. Am I really that transparent? Okay…maybe a little."

Izuku shifted in his seat again, looking her directly in the eye. Rumi felt transfixed to her chair as he sighed, "It doesn't work like that, Rumi. You can't outrun it. You can't pretend it's not there if you turn your head."

Rumi slowly lowered her hands to the table. Her ears drooping, she replied; "I…guess that's fair. And you're right. I…suppose that's part of it. But not all of it."

Izuku inclined his head. "So then what's the other part?" he asked casually.

Rumi was quiet for a moment, ears twitching as she tried to put her feelings into words. She looked around, at the quiet, mostly empty café; even the few people around made the place feel bustling to her, after weeks of sterile hospital rooms and empty, dust-covered apartments. It was warm, and cozy, and the sky was a bright, beautiful blue outside.

"When I stepped outside today," Rumi said slowly, softly, fingers clasping the table as she tried to meet Izuku's eyes, "I…I realized what a gift you've given me. This second chance. I…I don't want to waste it."

Her words were quiet, tender; far from the brash, hostile woman who'd met him in that hospital room so long ago. The admission felt good; it felt like it warmed her soul to be able to speak so freely and truthfully. Izuku's smile was equally changed; gentle instead of cruel, kind instead of bitter.

"It's yours, Rumi," he said softly. "Your gift. Your second chance. You can do with it what you like. Go at your own speed."

Rumi set her jaw. "That's the problem, Izuku," she replied, her voice pointed. "I can't just go at my own pace. There are people waiting for me. This country is scared, Izuku. And if I can help them rest easier…don't I have a duty to?"

She gestured around them, at the nearly-empty café, at the furtive glances being exchanged by other patrons, at the tension in the air. She was right; all of Japan was hanging by a shoestring, waiting for Shigaraki to make his move. Waiting for the facade to crack.

Rumi had contributed to that. Her absence was making people scared. It wasn't guilt that filled her at that thought; it was more like…responsibility. She was a hero. Whatever her reasons for stepping into that role, she'd taken it. People trusted her. If she didn't step up now, didn't try to restore the thing that she had shaken, she would have felt like a coward.

And Rumi refused to be a coward. About anything. (Except maybe about Izuku.)

Izuku groaned. "Fucking heroes," he muttered, but did not argue with Rumi's words. Fixing her with a look, he said, "Alright. I'll help you push the timetable on this; we'll go as fast as you can manage, try to get you back into fighting shape. But before we do that, I want you to do something for me, Rumi."

Flush with the victory of Izuku's agreement, elated by the thought of finally being able to return, Rumi nodded rapidly. "Anything," she replied, meaning it.

Izuku looked her dead in the eyes. "Tell me why you keep trying to pretend you're okay when you clearly aren't," he demanded.

Rumi flinched as Izuku's words cut through her. That was…how could she possibly answer that? She tried to open her mouth to protest, tried to snap at Izuku for presuming to act like he knew how she felt…then looked him in the eye again, and stopped.

He was right, wasn't he? She was still trying to pretend. She was still running, still hiding. Still lying to herself.

She sighed. "Fine," she replied.

Izuku smiled. "There we go," he said. "Take your time, Rumi; we have all day."

Rumi did take her time; she was quiet for a few minutes, thinking, considering. The cups of coffee between them slowly drained, until finally, she opened her mouth, and spoke.

"I…I thought I was stronger than this," Rumi admitted. "I thought I was too tough to have to worry about this shit. It…I've faced awful things, and slept sound as a baby afterwards. I've never had…had nightmares, or, or trauma, or whatever you think I have. It can't be that. I'm not that weak."

Izuku raised a skeptical eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. In a soft, intense voice-almost like a hiss-he said, "You aren't "too weak" to face this, Rumi. This-this doesn't have anything to do with strength. Trauma will fuck you up no matter how strong you are. You could be the strongest woman in the world, and still wake up like this, feeling like you're drowning in your own mind. You can be a hero, and still have nightmares."

Rumi's eyes darkened. "Who the hell would want to be saved by someone who's fighting their own brain?" she scoffed, voicing one of her darkest fears: that even if she did try to go back to heroics, she'd find that people no longer believed in her. "Who would trust their safety to someone who wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares?"

Izuku's face was unreadable as he met her eyes. "Would you?" he asked mildly.

The question was so unexpected, it took Rumi a second to gather her thoughts enough to answer. "I'm sorry, what?" she asked, stumbling over her words.

Izuku's eyes bored into hers, in that intense, demanding way he could use like a scalpel to cut through all her fears, all her worries. "Would you trust someone with those kinds of nightmares to help you?" he demanded, more firmly this time.

Rumi hesitated. Then, slowly, she answered, "I…I don't know. I don't think I would judge them, knowing what they've been through. If they can make it through something like that and keep helping people…I guess I kinda admire them. Why do you ask?"

In response, Izuku grinned; it was a wry, bitter thing, rueful and resentful without, somehow, being angry. "Because I have nightmares, too," he said casually, raising his prosthetic arm. "Or did you forget that we've only got one set of original hands between us?"

As he spoke, Izuku-seemingly without noticing it-laid that prosthetic hand on Rumi's own false limb, plastic and metal fingers covering each other. Even though she had no sensation, for a moment, it was as if she could feel the heat of his flesh against hers.

Rumi flinched as if she'd been struck. "I…I didn't even know. I'm sorry, I-" she stammered.

Izuku rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it," he said, smiling, before his eyes grew serious and somber again. "And don't feel stupid for thinking you were too weak, either. It took me a long time to figure out what I've been telling you. I spent so long being convinced I was the weak, pathetic, crippled Quirkless boy with no chance of ever being more."

Rumi at last looked down and noticed that their hands were intertwined. She stiffened, and briefly considered moving her arm…then didn't. She sort of liked the contact. "God, what a pair we make," she snorted darkly. "A couple of broken, pathetic cripples working twice as hard as everyone else just to catch up."

Her self-hating, bitter words seemed to strike something in Izuku; he leaned back in his chair, hand behind his head, running through his curly green hair.

"If there's one thing I've learned, working with heroes and talking with other doctors, it's this," he said softly, but with the sort of strength that comes from falling to pieces and rebuilding yourself, bit by bit. "We're all broken, Rumi. We all have cracks. That's how the light gets in."

For a moment, Rumi reeled; she could do nothing else as the impact of Izuku's words rang in her mind. All she could think to say was a sarcastic "Jeez, Izuku, do you just come up with this shit on your own?"

Izuku chuckled. With a shrug, he replied, "Actually, I read that one in a book."

Rumi couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. "I suppose that makes a lot more sense," she chuckled. "You really are a talentless hack!"

Izuku didn't even have the grace to look insulted. "Excuse you," he shot back. "Knowing how to shamelessly steal is a skill, thank you very much!"

Rumi's laughter only grew.

The conversation died down, after that; they stopped talking about the darkness, and just…basked in the light of a quiet afternoon, a cozy cafe, and good company.

Rumi had no idea how to describe the lightness that filled her chest as she sat there; she'd never felt it before, even in the days before the raid, when she'd been at the top of the world-and, she realized now, still running anyway. Running from herself, from her emotions, from the same darkness that still lurked at the edges of her soul now, looking for a way in. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, she decided; she was grateful for the lightness anyway.

Her prosthetic hand remained entwined with Izuku's the whole time, as they talked and ate and simply enjoyed being alive. She never did bother to move it, and he seemed not to notice at all.

The moment couldn't last forever, of course; just as Rumi began wondering if this really was just appreciation and friendship she could feel roiling in her chest, Izuku's phone went off. He scowled viciously as the abrupt shattering of their bubble of peace made Rumi withdraw her hand in surprise; as Izuku fished his still-ringing phone from his pocket, she wondered whether the person on the other end was ready for the unholy tongue-lashing she expected him to unleash.

Instead, one glance at the caller made Izuku sigh, a sound full of such deep frustration that it was clear that, whether or not he would have liked to rip them to pieces over interrupting his afternoon, he wouldn't be able to. Instead, he answered the phone, raising it to his ear and saying, "Hey, Boss."

Rumi really didn't mean to listen in, but she did have a rabbit's hearing, after all, and couldn't exactly turn it off at will, which meant she clearly heard Doctor Sora Danryoku on the other end.

"Hey, Midoriya," he said. "Sorry for calling on your day off, but I'd appreciate it if you could come in to meet with me. Something's come up that I need you for."

Izuku blinked, and he glanced at Rumi. Eyes narrowing, he said, "If it's not a somebody's-bleeding-out-right-this-second emergency, could it wait a few hours? I'm…kinda in the middle of something right now."

Danryoku sounded apologetic, but firm, as he replied, "Sorry, Midoriya, but it can't. I really am sorry to interrupt your date, but-"

Rumi and Izuku's eyes shot wide open at that. Rumi nearly crashed backwards out of her chair as she tried to catch herself with her metal leg, forgetting the slight movement delay; as she was forced to grip the table for balance, Izuku did something eerily similar on the other side of the table, but also managed to avoid falling over with sudden shock.

"I am not on a date," he hissed into the phone. Danryoku's only response was a chuckle that felt oddly knowing; Rumi wondered if Izuku's boss actually knew where they were, or if he'd just taken a wild, joking guess, and was now grinning like a shark smelling blood at Izuku's reaction.

Seemingly just to shut Danryoku up before he said something else too uncomfortably insightful for the two of them to handle, Izuku snapped, "Fine. I'm on my way."

Not waiting for an answer, he hung up the phone, and looked back to Rumi, already rising from the table.

"Sorry," he said, grimacing. "I really do hate to cut this short."

Slowly managing to recover some amount of poise, Rumi shrugged, and replied, "Eh, I was about done anyway. If you need to get going, I can head back to my apartment by myself."
Izuku shook his head. "No need for that," he said. "Your place is on the way to the hospital for me, I can walk you back just fine."

Rumi thought about protesting, saying that she was perfectly fine to handle the walk by herself, but then caught herself. Even if she could have handled it alone…why did she need to? Izuku wasn't coming because he didn't think she could do it. And besides…she found the thought of parting again unpleasant enough that putting it off a few more minutes was very appealing.

Very deliberately not thinking about Danryoku's "date" comment (look, she'd had enough of being emotionally mature and thoughtful for today, it was time for her to break out the good old Do-Not-Think-About-Box just this once), she and Izuku cleared their table, then walked out of the cafe. Their walk back was quiet, and though it wasn't an unpleasant silence, it was decidedly much more awkward than it had been earlier. Every so often, they'd glance at each other-Izuku still arm-in-arm with her in a way that, yes, kept her stable in case she misstepped, but was also easily mistaken for a couple's embrace-flush like schoolchildren, then look away again. Danryoku's words still lingered between them, making them stilted, nervous.

At last, though, they made it back to Rumi's apartment building. Untangling from him, Rumi turned as she reached the front door, her eyes instantly finding Izuku's own.

Still awkward, but refusing to let that stop her, she said, "Well, uh…see you later, I guess?"

Izuku grinned, though it wavered a little for the same reason Rumi's words had. "Later," he repeated. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

With that, he turned, heading down the street in the opposite direction. Rumi watched him until he disappeared around a corner, wondering why her feet wouldn't move, and her heart felt colder.

Okay, something was definitely wrong with her.