Izuku climbed the final flight of stairs and pushed open the creaking metal door that led to the rooftop. What he found stopped him in his tracks.
Up here, above the ruined shell of the building, sat a small, self-contained home. A neatly built modern house rested comfortably in the middle of the roof, complete with a garden that spread green across the concrete.
Patches of fresh grass swayed in the evening breeze, flowerbeds bloomed with color, and to the side, a well-tended carrot patch stood proudly like a farmer's prize.
'What the hell…? How does grass even grow up here? And a carrot farm? This is ridiculous…' Izuku thought, blinking in disbelief as he walked toward the front doors.
But before he could reach them—
FWUMP!
A blur of motion came from his left. Pure instinct screamed at him to dodge, but he didn't move. Instead, he caught a flash of tan thighs and toned calves before a pair of strong legs clamped around his head. In one clean, acrobatic twist, Mirko's lower body locked onto him, her thighs tightening like iron bars as she flipped him to the ground.
Izuku crashed onto his back, the impact cracking the concrete beneath him. His vision was suddenly filled with her—the weight of her hips pressing against his chest, her legs snug around his head, and her smirking face glaring down at him with wild excitement.
'I dodge attacks, not opportunities,' Izuku thought dryly, deciding to just roll with it.
Mirko leaned closer, her grin sharp and wolfish. "I thought you'd be tougher, kid. From what I saw at the festival, you looked like a damn beast… but maybe TV really does make people bigger than they are." Her crimson eyes glittered with challenge. "Or… maybe you're just holding back?"
Izuku smiled through the situation, unbothered. "Guess we'll never know."
That only made her grin wider. With a laugh, she unhooked her legs and sprang up, offering him a hand. Izuku accepted, rising to his full height, his tall frame towering over her.
"Not bad," she admitted, brushing off her shorts. "You've got guts. I like that. Anyway—name's Mirko. But since you're under my roof, you'll call me Rumi. Don't make me repeat myself."
"Cool. I'm Izuku." He smirked. "My Hero name is Sentinel."
"Sentinel, huh?" She nodded approvingly. "Strong, simple. I dig it. Now come on, Sentinel, let's get you settled. I was about to make carrot cake before you showed up—though I'll give you credit for being early. That's a good sign."
She turned on her heel, her snow-white hair bouncing behind her as she led him to the front door. Izuku followed, stepping into the surprisingly warm interior.
Inside, the house carried a cozy, modern design. Wooden floors glowed with polish, a faint citrus scent hung in the air, and small touches of personality were scattered everywhere—framed photos, training gear tucked into corners, and rabbit-themed décor that added charm without going overboard. Unlike most pro heroes' spaces, this house had a soul; it felt lived in.
"Cool place," Izuku remarked, genuinely impressed.
"Thanks. Don't get too comfortable though—there's only one bedroom. Which means you're crashing on the couch. Don't whine, it's actually pretty comfortable. I end up napping there half the time." She gestured to the living room. "Drop your stuff on the table for now."
Izuku obeyed, setting down his bag. The tour started, short and brisk. Rumi showed him the essentials: her bedroom—much more feminine and "girly" than he expected, with fluffy pillows and posters she clearly didn't want pointed out—the bathroom, the sleek kitchen, the rooftop garden, and finally, a training room below the house.
The training area was chaos incarnate: broken sandbags lay in heaps, dented dummies stood like soldiers beaten half to death, and scorch marks covered the walls. It reeked of sweat and stubbornness.
"This is where we'll spar," Rumi said proudly, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm not a teacher type—hell, I suck at it—but I'll give you everything I've got. Daytime is training, nighttime we hit patrol. You'll earn your keep fast, trust me."
Izuku nodded, his hands behind his back. "Sounds perfect. So… what now?"
Her ears twitched. Then she grinned mischievously. "Now? You get changed—we're baking. Can't have a sidekick who doesn't know how to make carrot cake. Consider it a life lesson."
She laughed, already striding toward the kitchen. Izuku followed, shaking his head with a smile.
The two of them got to work in the kitchen, the counter quickly becoming a controlled mess of flour, sugar, and peeled carrots. Rumi tied on a simple apron that somehow managed to look stylish on her, while Izuku rolled up his sleeves and followed her lead.
"Careful with that," she said as he grated the carrots, giving him a sly grin. "You've got those big strong hands. Wouldn't want you to snap the grater in half, tough guy."
Izuku smirked. "I'll keep my strength in check. Promise."
To his surprise, baking with her felt natural. She was loud, unfiltered, and full of energy, throwing in jokes and jabs as casually as she measured ingredients. Izuku kept the conversation easy, asking her about patrol routines, villains she usually dealt with, and how she balanced being one of the top heroes while still running her own agency.
She answered openly, her tone blunt but never cold. It wasn't long before she shifted gears.
"You know…" Rumi leaned against the counter, eyeing him with a teasing look as he stirred the batter. "You look like you're mostly doing this hero thing to get girls. Don't even try to deny it."
Izuku blinked, then burst out laughing. "Really? That's a new one. But hey, I won't say you're entirely wrong. Still, my main goal's helping people. That's the truth."
Rumi chuckled, satisfied with his honesty. "See, I like that. No sugarcoating. That's one thing you'll learn about me—I'm very, and I mean very, honest. Sometimes brutally so."
"I can already tell," Izuku replied with a smile. "But I don't mind. Honesty's refreshing."
By the time the cake was done baking, the entire house smelled sweet and warm. They pulled it from the oven, let it cool just enough, and soon were sitting across from each other at the small dining table. Rumi tucked one leg up on her chair, fork in hand, completely at ease in her own home. Izuku poured tea for both of them, the pair settling in for their first real break of the day.
"Not bad, huh?" she said around a mouthful of carrot cake.
"It's good. Sweeter than I expected," Izuku admitted, sipping his tea.
There was a pause before Rumi leaned forward, her red eyes narrowing playfully. "So… your quirk. It's seriously overpowered. Any drawbacks at all, or are you just the universe's favorite child?"
Izuku chuckled, tapping his fork against the plate. "Not really any major drawbacks. The only thing is—I can't fully switch it off. Every second of the day I'm regulating myself. My weight, my strength, even my footsteps. If I don't, I'll break things without meaning to."
Rumi's brows lifted as her smirk widened. "Damn. That's wild. Can't imagine what that's like—living every second like you're walking on glass. You gotta show me what happens if you don't one of these days. I'm kinda curious to see just how destructive you really are."
"I'll… try," Izuku said with a chuckle, shaking his head at her enthusiasm.
"Good." She leaned back, propping her leg higher on the chair as she speared another bite of cake. "I like training partners who surprise me. Makes life interesting."
The two ended up talking for over an hour, bouncing between lighthearted jokes and serious conversations. Izuku learned that Rumi wasn't just all bark and brawn—she had ambitions of pushing the limits of what a solo hero could achieve, of carving her own name into history without relying on teams or political safety nets. In turn, he shared just enough about himself to give her a glimpse of his drive, though he carefully avoided anything too revealing.
Eventually, Rumi stretched her arms over her head, her toned muscles flexing as she pushed her chair back. "Alright, enough chatter. Talking's fun, but I want to see what you've got."
She pointed toward the floor. "Get ready. First sparring session starts now."
Izuku nodded without hesitation, slipping his chair back neatly before excusing himself to change. A few minutes later, they both stepped down into the training room below.
She hopped lightly into the center, rolling her shoulders as her crimson eyes locked onto him. Even without activating her quirk, there was a predatory sharpness in her stance, like a wild animal just barely restrained.
"Alright, let's get started," Rumi said, her voice low but full of excitement. She sank down into her fighting posture, legs bent, ready to spring at any moment. "Don't hold back, okay? Because I definitely won't."
Izuku tilted his head slightly, calm and collected. "If I feel threatened, I will."
That answer only made her smirk widen into something feral. A laugh bubbled from her chest as she flexed her calves, energy practically radiating off her.
"Haha, you're one funny kid," she said, eyes narrowing. "But I like that. Makes breaking you in all the more fun."
Rumi crouched lower, her muscles coiling like springs, and for the first time since he'd arrived, Izuku realized something important: she wasn't underestimating him at all.
She was preparing to hunt him.
TO BE CONTINUED