After hours of lying uselessly in bed the next day, Rumi couldn't help but perk up when she heard the door opening.

"Izuku's back already?" she wondered, her eyes flying up to the clock on the wall. She realized it couldn't be; it was too early.

And yet, he'd been close to the only visitor she'd gotten, since it wasn't like many people cared enough about her to try and visit her-hell, Rumi didn't know how many people were even aware she'd been hurt.

Instead, the man who stepped through the door was wearing a smart, well-fitted suit and tie that clearly marked him as someone on official business. That fact was confirmed a second later, when Rumi saw the Hero Commission logo on the side of the briefcase the man carried with him. Rumi sized him up as he entered, her flinty eyes betraying nothing. The man's appearance was pretty standard, with few distinguishing characteristics. A mop of slick blond hair fell sideways over his face, he had dark-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked a few years older than Rumi.

The man bowed respectfully as he closed the door. "Miruko," he said, "a pleasure as always. My name is Sora Tanaka, and I'm here on behalf of the Hero Commission."

Rumi snorted at the man's respect for a woman who couldn't even get out of bed, but she knew better than to be a dick to an employee of the Commission. In a curt voice, she replied, "Good to meet you, Mr. Tanaka. Why are you here?"

As he took a seat next to Rumi's bed, Tanaka, clearly having some knowledge of Rumi's preference for straight talk over flowery words, began, "Miss Miruko, I'm going to be blunt. The Hero Commission has been wondering whether you would like to be taken off the list of inactive heroes and officially retired."

Honestly, Rumi had been expecting this earlier. All Might had announced his retirement a few days after Kamino Ward, and the media had been all over the Commission; Rumi had been out of action nearly a month, and she still hadn't seen herself mentioned specifically in the media as much more than one more name on a too-long list of casualties.

But still, Rumi wasn't prepared for how the question, put so bluntly, seemed to sear through her flesh. Suddenly, she was flashing back to the first day she'd woken up, the first day she'd met Izuku, the nighttime talk with Hawks. Everyone wanted to know the same thing, and they seemed to expect her to know already. Couldn't they see that her thoughts were a raging cyclone, a million hopes and pains and lost dreams swirling around an empty void?

Rumi tried to dodge the question by musing, "I'm surprised that the media hasn't found out about my injuries yet. Did you guys have anything to do with that?"

If the representative recognized the subject change, he didn't comment on it. Instead, Tanaka replied, "Indeed, the Commission has been doing its best to...deflect inquiries into your whereabouts."

"Why?" Rumi demanded in an emotionless voice.

Tanaka met her cutting gaze steadily as he smoothly explained, "The Commission has seen enough heroes pressured into retirement by public fear and outcry to know that allowing the media to have all the details about situations like yours can be counterproductive. We want to make sure you have the chance to consider your decision free of outside influences."

"Yeah, right," Rumi thought, "covering your own ass, more like. Losing All Might was bad enough; if I'm out for good, too, you guys are all going to lose your jobs."

Still, she couldn't deny that having the media breathing down her neck, demanding an answer about if she would be returning, might have pushed her to declare her career over with even more certainty than she already did. How much of the scrutiny could she take, when she was already so hopeless?

Out loud, Rumi asked, "But I am going to get to make that decision? I'm not being forced into retirement?"

Somehow, that was important to her; Rumi needed to know if there really was any way out of the darkness she found herself trapped in.

Tanaka shook his head. "No, Miss Miruko, you aren't," he assured her, "certainly, your injuries are severe, but perhaps they are not career-ending. Especially in these troubling times, the Commission hopes that there may be a path back to active service for you."

"That figures," Rumi reasoned, "with that Shigaraki fucker still on the loose, they need every hero they've got, no matter how injured."

But still, Rumi still didn't know if she believed anyone who said that she could come back; she couldn't see it for herself. She snorted, "Really? You think that losing two limbs isn't career-ending?"

Tanaka's face was still professional, but his eyes did seem pained as Rumi waved her stump in the air. He admitted, "There are plenty of Commission members who are aware of the difficulties you face, and our hopes are tempered by realism, but…"

"But what?" Rumi asked.

"But ultimately, there is only one person who can decide whether or not we are right in placing our faith in you," Tanaka finished, "and that is you, Miruko."

Rumi blinked as she processed the words. She still couldn't decide what she was feeling, what she was thinking; her mind was a jumble, a coin flipping end-over-end in midair. She stayed quiet, meeting Tanaka's steady gaze without visible emotion.

Tanaka sighed and settled himself back into the chair. "Well? Do you know yet whether you will be able to return?" he asked, briskly but not without kindness.

Rumi hesitated again, a hundred conflicting memories flinging themselves through her thoughts. Then, she admitted, "No, I don't. Not yet."

At the end of the day, Rumi simply didn't know what she thought. One part of her was as convinced as ever that she was through, that her day in the sun was over. The other, though, recalled green hair and a vicious grin and faith so unshakable even her deepest despair couldn't cut through it, and wondered if, just maybe, she wasn't quite done.

"May I ask why?" Tanaka inquired softly.

Rumi didn't really feel the need to say much more than, "My doctors tell me that they're doing everything they can. If there's a solution that will let me come back...they'll find it. Until I know for sure that there isn't one, I won't say I'm done, not forever."

Tanaka's eyes flashed, and Rumi thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his face before it set into controlled neutrality. He nodded once, then told her, "Very well, Miss Miruko. The Hero Commission will be able to delay making the full extent of your injuries public for about a week longer; after that, we can make no promises. I suggest you have something to offer them by that time."

Rumi nodded once, then said, "Thank you, Mr. Tanaka."

Tanaka really did smile this time, as he stood from his chair. "You're welcome, Miruko," he said warmly, "and for the record, I do hope you return. Remember, you aren't alone in this."

Rumi watched Tanaka head for the door with her head tilted in curiosity. She asked, "What do you mean?"

Pausing to turn back to her, Tanaka replied, "Miruko, for weeks now, the Commission has been receiving questions from citizens young and old about your health and well-being. People are worried about you, and want you to get better. You are a top hero, Miruko, and that means people look up to you. I don't wish to influence your decision or make you feel any pressure one way or the other...but don't forget about the fans you have waiting on the other side."

With that, Tanaka left before Rumi could reply. Instead, she was left sitting there in her bed, wondering if what he had told her was true. If she came back, would it be to people who had never lost faith in her like she had lost faith in herself?

If she didn't come back, would those people forget her?

When Izuku arrived about two hours later, Rumi was almost thankful for the distraction he provided from the questions that whirled around her mind, questions she didn't have answers for.

At least, she was until she saw what Izuku was pushing in front of him.

"Hello, Rumi! I was thinking we could get a change of scenery for today, head downstairs for today's PT session," Izuku said in greeting. In front of him, Izuku brought a standard hospital wheelchair, clearly intending to bring Rumi in it.

Rumi's eyes snapped back up to Izuku's face, and she replied flatly, "Hell no. No, no, no. Never in a million years."

Izuku sighed quietly as Rumi crossed her arms defiantly, shaking her head with her ears pricked high. Izuku asked, "Rumi, why are you like this? It's just a wheelchair."

"A wheelchair I will never get into," Rumi countered. Being escorted to the bathroom and not being able to do anything by herself was bad enough. She was not going to be paraded through the halls for everyone to see just how helpless she was.

Izuku clearly understood a bit more than Rumi was letting on, because he didn't bother trying to convince her that the wheelchair was in her best interest. Instead, he said, "Rumi, just get in the damn wheelchair. It's literally a two-minute trip."

"I will not get into that fucking thing," Rumi declared as she sat up, sniffing petulantly. She may only have two working limbs, but she still had her dignity, dammit!

Izuku just stared at her evenly, an unimpressed look on his face. Eventually, he told her, "Rumi, stop trying to pretend you can still do everything yourself. You can't."

Rumi reeled, turning to face Izuku as her jaw dropped. She stammered, "Y-you...what are you talking about?"

Izuku was unrepentant, crossing his arms over his chest just like Rumi had. He responded, "Look, I get it, Rumi, I really do. You based your whole brand on being entirely self-sufficient and never accepting help or team-ups; it's kind of your thing. And now, you're clinging to it because you're scared that everything else feels like it's been taken from you."

Rumi stared openly at her doctor, who had somehow managed to pick apart her entire mindset in seconds. She hadn't even been able to dissect herself that well, but now that Izuku had said it, she realized that that was exactly what she'd been doing. How had he known?

Seemingly unaware of Rumi's sudden crisis, Izuku continued, "I know that it's easy to cling to what's familiar in situations like this. But you have to realize that you can't be like that anymore. I hate to be so blunt, but you cannot walk by yourself. You need help, and being angry about that won't change a fucking thing."

Izuku just kept finding new ways to make Rumi fall apart, new weak points that threatened to punch holes in the tattered fabric of who she'd been, and it made Rumi mad. She snapped, "You can't change it, either!"

"Maybe not," Izuku told her, "but honestly? I think trying to stand by yourself as a hero is stupid, anyway. All it does is mean that there's nobody there to help you when you get in over your head."

Rumi flinched involuntarily as she remembered charging so far ahead of the other heroes that there was no support available when the High-Ends surrounded her. She remembered making fun of Kamui Woods at the hero ranking announcements, all because he'd dared to admit he had weaknesses, and taken steps to address them.

Izuku must have seen her flinch, because his expression softened and his eyes became less angry. More gently, he said, "Look, Rumi. Nobody here, least of all me, looks down on you or thinks any less of you for needing help. You did something braver and more incredible than anyone else I've ever met, and that's why you're here. You should be proud. But you can't let that pride stop you from accepting the help you need to get better again, or you'll never be what you used to be."

Rumi looked up at Izuku's face, and she saw the sincerity in his eyes. Maybe...maybe he was right. But even if he was, Rumi couldn't just throw away her pride. Right now, it was all she had.

So she straightened again and said, "I'm still not getting in that wheelchair."

Izuku's eye roll was so strong, Rumi could feel his irritation. He sighed, "Rumi, you will get in the wheelchair, or so help me God, I will put you in the wheelchair."

"What, you think that a nerdy little doctor like you is gonna be able to pick me up?" Rumi cracked, still defiant.

Izuku didn't say anything, but his eyes twinkled in amusement as he wheeled the chair up to the side of Rumi's bed and said, "Oh, I have my ways."

Then, to Rumi's shock, he simply reached his hands around and underneath her, and lifted.

In disbelief, Rumi realized that Izuku was now carrying her in bridal-style, one hand under her leg just high enough to carry her stump as well, while his other hand was on her back. "Hey, what's the big idea?" she demanded as she wriggled frantically, trying to escape Izuku's arms with little success. With a jolt, Rumi realized that Izuku was strong, and his arms, as well as the part of his chest that she could feel against her, were all solidly muscled and tough.

With an entertained grin on his face, Izuku replied, "I told you that I'd put you in the chair if you kept being difficult."

"B-but how?" Rumi asked, trying to ignore the urge to lean into the warmth of Izuku's body as he maneuvered her out of the bed. What the hell was going on with her? So he was strong, big deal!

"What? I work out," Izuku said simply as he bent down to plop Rumi down in the wheelchair.

"That's not fucking fair," Rumi grumbled as she recrossed her arms grumpily and her ears drooped, revealing her sulking as Izuku helped her settle into place.

"Life isn't fair," Izuku countered smoothly as he wheeled her out of the room, a scowl fixed on Rumi's face.

Izuku took Rumi down the hall and into an elevator, then out onto another floor, weaving through a series of identical-looking white hallways with expertise. The whole time, Rumi pouted, convinced that he was just doing this to humiliate her. Even the fact that the few other people they saw didn't seem to recognize her didn't help.

"Fucking muscular doctors and their fucking muscles," Rumi grumbled to herself, ignoring the part of her that had kind of enjoyed being picked up.

When Izuku finally pushed open a door labeled "Physical Therapy Room," Rumi didn't really know what to expect. All things considered, the simple, open area with a few chairs, mats, and a row of shelves along one wall was probably better than the torture chamber Izuku's teasing had her imagining.

She observed, "This doesn't seem too bad. Why were you saying that this was going to hurt, yesterday?"

As Izuku wheeled her towards a large, leaned-back chair in the center of the room, he replied, "Because we're going to be working with your stumps today."

"My stumps?" Rumi repeated in confusion, "what are you talking about?"

Deciding that she didn't need Izuku to carry her around again, Rumi accepted the hand he offered her, using it to wobble shakily into the chair. Izuku took his own seat next to her before he replied, "Well, it's pretty simple. You've been having basic shaping therapy, right?"

Slowly, Rumi nodded. She hated that shit. Apparently, if she wanted her stumps to develop calluses and be able to support prosthetics, she needed to have them occasionally worked over by a nurse's hands. Really, it just hurt like a bitch and left her plotting bloody vengeance on the poor souls who got stuck with the job.

"Well," Izuku continued, "you still need to have a version of that, because otherwise your muscles on that arm will waste away and it will be much more likely to get infected.

Rumi winced as she imagined that, and decided that maybe having someone constantly massaging her stumps wasn't so bad, after all.

"Okay, fine. Let's do this," she sighed, holding out her arm towards Izuku.

Izuku's eyes glittered in amusement as he reached out to cup the stump in his hands. He said, "You're going to regret that."

The first moment Izuku began to squeeze and massage the tender flesh of Rumi's stump, she understood exactly what he meant. It felt like fire was scorching the whole length of her arm, as her body protested fiercely. Rumi clenched her jaw hard to trap the involuntary yell of pain, turning it into a long, drawn-out hiss that shifted in volume and pitch as Izuku's hands worked their way up and down her arm, forcing her muscles to move and stimulating blood flow. The initial pain began to fade, only to be replaced with the dull, regular ache of sore muscles, only multiplied by a thousand. It throbbed up her arm in waves, driven by her heartbeat. Izuku continued to manipulate her arm as he massaged it, gently guiding it through a range of motion, tracing circles in the air, pulling it this way and that to keep it going.

In between the waves of agony, Rumi managed to swear, "Fucking hell!"

Izuku nodded in sympathy. "Yeah, it sucks," he agreed, "but it's better than not being able to use the arm at all."

"Yeah, I'm sure that makes you feel better," Rumi hissed as she gritted her teeth and tried to tough it out.

Noticing her discomfort, Izuku offered, "How about you and I talk for a bit? Having a distraction helps."

Rumi wasn't sure how she was supposed to be distracted from the sensation of her arm being on fire, but she figured that it couldn't hurt to try. She asked, "Talk about what?"

"Anything, really. If you've got questions about anything, I can answer them, for starters," Izuku replied with a shrug.

Rumi tried to think, ignoring the bolts of pain that shot through her every few moments long enough to put together a coherent thought about something that had been bugging her for a while. At last, she asked, "I mean, I'm kinda curious about your nickname."

Izuku's head shot up in surprise, and Rumi hissed as he accidentally squeezed her arm a bit tighter than normal. "How did you hear about that?" he demanded.

When her voice was working again, Rumi replied mysteriously, "Oh, I have my ways."

"You've been stuck in your bed for weeks!" Izuku pointed out.

Rumi figured that playing games with a guy who was hurting her this much while he was being nice was probably a bad idea, so she sighed, "Okay, fine, Hawks told me the other night when he stopped by."

Under his breath, Izuku grumbled, "I knew I should have had him tied to his bed…"

"What was that?" Rumi asked, her ears perking up and swiveling towards Izuku.

"Nothing," Izuku replied, "so, what do you think of my stupid nickname?"

Rumi shrugged; the pain was still present, but she was getting better at focusing on the conversation instead. She told Izuku, "Honestly, I have no idea what to make of it. I mean, on the one hand, it sounds really silly, but on the other, Hawks was definitely scared of you, and I'm not sure why."

"Oh? Am I not intimidating you?" Izuku asked jokingly as he gave Rumi's arm one last go-over with nimble fingers that would have felt really good, if they had been anywhere even slightly less painful to touch.

"Nah," Rumi said casually, "but tell me, how did you get that nickname?"

Izuku answered, "Oh, at first it was a joke from the other doctors; they were pretty surprised that the new guy was being put on a bunch of important hero cases."

"What do you mean, the "new guy?" Rumi asked.

"I mean, compared to a lot of the other doctors in the hero wing, I haven't had my license that long," Izuku explained, "over time, though, heroes I treated started calling me that, too, mostly because I got really good at dealing with their fits of self-pity and refusal to actually take their own health seriously."

Ignoring the way her own gut squirmed at the descriptions that sorta fit her perfectly, Rumi asked, "Wait, how long have you been a doctor?"

"Only about a year," Izuku replied, "what, do I look older than I am or something?"

Rumi eyed Izuku as he released her arm and shifted to her other side to raise the stump of her leg; the freckles and wide, seemingly instinctive smile that always filled his face made him look younger than he actually was, if anything.

Still, she was pretty surprised that the most prestigious hero hospital in the country would accept a fresh graduate of medical school, even one as obviously talented and dedicated as Izuku was. Oh well, that wasn't really any of her business. Rumi asked, "What did you do to those heroes to make them afraid of you?"

"Oh, I usually just tied them to their beds until they healed or told them that if they didn't take care of themselves, I would kill them myself," Izuku said dismissively, making Rumi shoot a wide-eyed look at him. The two stared at each other for a long moment, and then Izuku began to massage Rumi's leg.

Biting back another scream of agony, Rumi raised an eyebrow and said, "You know, I didn't think you had it in you, Doc. I like your style. Did it work?"

Forgetting about Rumi's rabbit hearing yet again, Izuku muttered, "Great. I'm being called "Doc" by a rabbit, my life is now an ancient American cartoon…"

"What?" Rumi asked, deeply confused.

Izuku looked back up at her as his hands worked up and down her leg, massaging as far as the very beginnings of her thigh and sending even stronger waves of pain rippling up her body. He simply said, "Don't worry about it. And for the record, it usually does. I have the highest rate of patients returned to active duty in the ward."

"Including the patients you had to kill?" Rumi asked dryly.

Izuku retorted, "Oh, I haven't had to kill any of them yet. They're usually smarter than that."

"I'm glad to hear that most heroes are smart enough to not get killed," Rumi snarked, her mind getting more distanced from the pain by the second.

Izuku nodded and agreed, "Oh, most are. All of you are still stupid, though. You have absolutely zero concept of self-preservation."

"Thank you for the glowing praise," Rumi responded, even as Izuku continued to massage the perfect example of her lack of self-preservation. His fingers danced smoothly over the toned brown flesh of her upper leg, circling over her thigh and back down to the abrupt end of the limb and back again, squeezing and moving it to get the blood flowing.

For a little while, Rumi just let it happen, focusing on taking deep breaths as the pain continued to come and go, until she had another question she wanted Izuku to answer.

Rumi asked, "Why did you become a doctor, anyway, Izuku?"

"Why does anyone become a doctor?" Izuku countered vaguely, looking down at Rumi's leg instead of at her face.

"Why don't you tell me?" Rumi prompted, not letting Izuku get away with such an obvious dodge.

As he slowly began to wrap up, winding down his massage with a few last motions over the top of Rumi's stump, Izuku sighed, "Alright, fine."

He let Rumi's leg fall back down to the chair, and met her eye for the first time since he'd started working on her leg. Izuku told her, "I didn't always want to be a doctor. In fact, it kind of happened...well, not by accident, but I definitely didn't set out to be one, even when I started college."

"Really?" Rumi asked, looking at Izuku yet again. She had assumed that someone like him, as stubborn and driven as he was, to the point where he could get her to do things, must have had his sights set on a goal that nothing could keep him from.

"You look surprised," Izuku noted as he stood, clearly intending to move the wheelchair.

"Err, yeah, I kind of am," Rumi admitted, "I'm curious what you wanted to be before that, then."

Suddenly, Izuku's lips pressed tight together, and his eyes darkened. In an instant, his body language shifted, and the air in the room suddenly seemed to crackle with tension, with a warning.

In a low voice, Izuku asked, "And what makes you think I had something else I wanted to be?"

"You just said that you changed your goal," Rumi pointed out, ignoring the way her danger sense prickled along her skin at the look on Izuku's face.

"Maybe I didn't have one before," Izuku countered, his face still grim, no longer moving, facing directly towards Rumi.

Rumi said, "Impossible. Everyone's got a dream, especially when they're a kid."

Izuku seemed to sag at that, but he quickly gathered himself. "Not me. Not a real dream, anyway," he muttered.

"Come on, you can tell me," Rumi assured him, "I know you must have had something."

Izuku glared at her sharply enough to make Rumi wonder if this was really a good idea or not, then said flatly, "Alright, fine, if you want to know so badly, I'll tell you. I wanted to be a hero."

Rumi blinked in surprise. She...hadn't expected it, but honestly, now that the thought existed in her mind, she couldn't help but be surprised that he wasn't one.

Rumi asked, "Why didn't you become one, then? You've definitely got the spirit, that's for sure."

Izuku didn't reply, except to say, "Let's just get you back to your room, Rumi."

Rumi wasn't satisfied, but she doubted that she would be able to get anything else out of Izuku once he'd clammed up.

That is, until they finally reached her room. Rumi had just settled back into her bed when, on a final Hail Mary, she asked, "Seriously, was it just that you didn't think your quirk would be good for it?"

Next to her bed, Izuku froze; the look on his face was one of pain and shock.

Rumi pressed, "Come on, it's not that big a deal, right? I'm just curious."

Izuku fixed her with a long stare, one that felt to Rumi like she was being evaluated. At last, Izuku told her, in a voice that rang with a million unsaid cries, "Rumi, I'm quirkless."

Rumi froze, too, her eyes going wide and her brain screeching to a halt. For a second, she tried to say something, but she couldn't figure out how to fix the massive mistake she'd just made.

Before she could say a thing, though, Izuku just shook his head and left the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

Rumi was left to mull over the fact that the most stubborn, driven man she'd ever met was quirkless in complete silence.