After their bath, the two set out into the city evening. The streets of Shibuya buzzed with life—flashing signs, the scent of street food drifting through the air, and the hum of distant chatter blending with car horns. Izuku and Rumi walked side by side, their relaxed pace a contrast to the energy around them.
The nearest retail store wasn't far. As soon as they stepped through the automatic doors, a few heads turned. It didn't take long before someone recognized Izuku.
"Midoriya! Can I get a photo?"
"Please sign my notebook!"
Within minutes, they were surrounded by excited fans—kids in hero shirts, adults holding out phones, and even an elderly woman who simply wanted to shake his hand. Izuku handled it all with a humble smile, taking pictures and signing autographs without complaint.
Rumi watched from the side, arms crossed and a teasing grin spreading across her face. "Well, well," she said as they finally started walking again, "looks like you're a little celebrity."
Izuku chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he pushed the trolley forward. "Nah, it's just for now. Give it a month and they'll probably forget about me."
Rumi raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him as she walked beside him, her white hair swaying lightly. "I doubt it. Most people still remember me from the Sports Festival, and that was many years ago."
"That can't be true," he said, laughing a little. "Do people even know who you are under the mask?"
"Hmm." She tilted her head, scanning through the meat section with a thoughtful look. "I've wondered that myself. But once you get your pro license, most people stop caring about your civilian identity. It's just the diehard fans that recognize you here and there."
"True Die hard fans, that search everything about you. Might even have a fan club online," Izuku said, stopping the trolley so she could grab a pack of steak.
"Exactly " Rumi replied with a nod, placing it in the cart. "But hey—it's not like I ever planned on having a secret identity. It just sort of worked out that way."
Izuku smiled as they continued down the aisle, the sound of the trolley wheels clattering softly against the polished floor. "Guess that's convenient. Makes shopping a lot easier."
"Exactly," she said with a wink. "No need to deal with crowds unless I'm in uniform."
They moved through the rest of the store at an easy pace—picking up fruits, energy drinks, and a ridiculous amount of protein. Rumi tossed in a few boxes of instant noodles when Izuku wasn't looking, earning herself an amused shake of his head when he noticed.
Finally, they reached the checkout. After paying for their groceries, the two stepped out into the cool evening air, their bags filled and spirits light.
"Not bad," Rumi said, stretching her arms above her head as they walked. "Groceries done, stomachs ready. That's what I call a productive day."
Izuku grinned, pushing the cart toward the curb. "Yeah. Let's hope the rest of the week goes just as smooth."
"Ha. With me around?" Rumi smirked. "That's just not possible "
Izuku just laughed, the sound mixing with the city's glow as the two disappeared into the flow of people.
When they got home, the smell of freshly bought groceries filled the air. Rumi wasted no time getting to work in the kitchen, tying her hair back and rolling up her sleeves with determination. Izuku leaned against the counter, amused as she barked playful orders at him.
"Hand me that pan," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "You're my assistant tonight. Gotta prove I can actually cook, since someone dared to doubt me earlier."
Izuku chuckled as he passed it to her. "To be fair, I've seen your fridge. Carrots and protein shakes don't exactly scream 'chef.'"
She shot him a glare, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her pride. "Watch and learn, rookie."
Together they cooked, the kitchen filled with sizzling sounds and light banter. Rumi moved with surprising precision, tossing ingredients and humming under her breath while Izuku handled smaller tasks—cutting, stirring, and occasionally taste-testing when she wasn't looking.
By the time the food was ready, the sky had turned orange. They carried their plates outside, setting up two camping chairs on the roof where a soft breeze rolled in from the city.
The sunset stretched across the skyline like a painting—warm gold bleeding into violet. They ate in comfortable silence at first, just watching the light fade.
"Not bad," Izuku said, finishing his plate. "Didn't expect it to taste this good."
"Told you I could cook," Rumi said smugly, leaning back in her chair.
He smiled, eyes fixed on the horizon. "So, when do we start our patrol?"
Rumi glanced at the dimming sky. "Hmm… let's give it an hour. The streets get more active when it's properly dark."
"Alright," Izuku said with a nod, settling into his seat as the world slipped into dusk.
---
An hour later, the two stood atop the roof again—no longer just Rumi and Izuku, but Mirko and Sentinel.
Izuku's black suit gleamed faintly under the moonlight, the metallic weave tracing the sharp lines of his physique. The absence of a cape made him look sleek—efficient, almost godlike. Rumi, meanwhile, wore her classic outfit, her white hair tied high, her confident smirk sharp as ever.
"From now on, call me Mirko," she said, stretching her legs with an audible crack. "Let's begin, Sentinel."
"Got it," Izuku replied, adjusting his gloves. "So where do we… begin, necessarily?"
Mirko grinned. "Just watch and learn, kid."
She crouched low, eyes narrowing as her long ears twitched faintly. Izuku realized she was listening—really listening. Every sound from blocks away seemed to flow through her focus: conversations, distant footsteps, the hum of the city.
He folded his arms, curious. His own hearing could stretch across the entire city, but he wondered just how sharp hers really was.
'Let's see where she decides to go first,' he thought, amused.
Then, her eyes snapped open. "Alright. Let's go."
Without hesitation, Mirko leaped off the roof, landing lightly before sprinting through the narrow street below. Her movements were smooth and feral—like a beast closing in on prey. Izuku followed from above, landing beside her before matching her pace. The rhythmic thuds of their boots echoed as they raced through the alleyways.
Moments later, they stopped outside a small, run-down bar at the edge of Shibuya. Faint shouting came from inside.
Mirko didn't hesitate. She slammed her foot into the door—BOOM!—splintering it off its hinges as she burst in. Inside, a group of thugs had a young woman pinned against the wall, her cries muffled by rough hands.
Izuku's eyes narrowed, fury flashing behind them.
Mirko's whole demeanor changed. The playful woman from before was gone; what stood before them now was a predator. Her aura filled the room, suffocating and wild.
"I'll handle this," she said coldly, her gaze fixed on the men. "Just make sure nobody gets out."
Izuku gave a silent nod, stepping back to block the exit. The doorframe creaked behind him as his eyes glowed faintly under the mask, watching everything unfold.
TO BE CONTINUED