Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun gently ascended in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the picturesque Midoriya family home. Inko, the diligent matriarch of the household, had already risen with the first rays of light, meticulously putting the finishing touches on a hearty breakfast that filled the air with mouthwatering aromas.

Seated at the wooden kitchen table, the youngest scion of the Midoriya clan, Izuku, displayed an insatiable appetite as he enthusiastically devoured his morning meal. His youthful exuberance was palpable as today marked the inaugural day of his final year in middle school.

Amidst her culinary endeavors, Inko hummed a cheerful tune that reverberated through the kitchen, adding an extra layer of warmth to the morning ambiance.

But as Inko continued her well-practiced morning routine, her attention was abruptly diverted by an unexpected commotion taking place just beyond the kitchen window. Intrigued, she leaned closer to the glass and discovered two sizable moving trucks parked with deliberate precision across the tranquil street from their residence.

The sudden appearance of the movers and their cargo piqued Inko's curiosity and she couldn't help but let her imagination wander about who their new neighbors might be. She turned her gaze toward Izuku, a glimmer of excitement dancing in her eyes and shared the intriguing news, "Izuku, dear, it seems that we have new neighbors moving in right across the street."

Izuku, his mouth still occupied with a delicious mouthful of food, immediately shifted his attention to the window. Izuku turned to his mother, and asked if she knew who was moving into the house across the street. Inko gazed at Izuku for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she contemplated. Eventually, she shook her head and replied, "I'm not sure, dear. We'll just have to wait and see."

Izuku continued to enjoy his breakfast, aware that he had about ten minutes left before he had to leave for school. Inko, always the concerned mother, inquired, "And where is your sister, Rumi?"

Izuku chuckled lightly, a mischievous glint in his eye and replied with a hint of humor, "Oh, you know her, mom. She's probably still sleeping."

Inko laughed softly, her maternal worries momentarily forgotten but then sighed. She couldn't help but wonder when her daughter would start waking up earlier like her brother.

As Izuku finished his meal, he grew a bit more serious and asked with a hint of timidity, "Mom… did dad call last night?"

Inko, knowing the weight of the question, decided to deflect it with another question, not wanting to burden Izuku with the uncertainty of their family situation. She asked gently, "Izuku, have you finished packing your school bag for today?"

A few minutes later, the young man with green hair finished his breakfast and began to put on his shoes. Inko stopped Izuku, asking him to wake up his sister, the sleeping beauty. Izuku chuckled and headed off to find his sister. As he climbed the stairs, he thought, "Knowing her, she's probably still sleeping... I hope this time she's at least dressed," he sighed.

Izuku approached Rumi's bedroom door and knocked gently for the first time but there was no response. He sighed again, a touch of frustration creeping in. He knocked a second time, a bit louder, but still received no answer. With a sense of determination, he knocked on her door for the third time, and once again, there was nothing.

Frustration turned to resignation as he carefully pushed the door open. Inside, he found Rumi Midoriya, or Mirko, looking disheveled yet strangely alluring in her sleep. Her emerald hair was strewn across the pillow and her lithe form was accentuated by the sheets that clung to her. She lay there, the epitome of serene beauty.

Izuku couldn't help but call out her name softly, "Rumi..."

She mumbled in response, "Just five more minutes..." Her voice was groggy and laced with sleep.

Izuku chuckled and gently reminded Rumi that she needed to help their mother with something downstairs. Rumi, ever the playful one, decided to use her bunny-like hearing to her advantage. She wiggled her ears and used them to push Izuku away lightly, causing him to stumble back a step.

Izuku sighed, his good-natured patience apparent, as he pointed out, "Come on, Rumi, you're the big sister here."

Rumi shot back with a smirk, "Not by choice, Izuku." She finally opened her eyes, lifting her head from the pillow. When she did, she found herself face to face with her younger brother. Izuku grinned at her and greeted her with an affectionate, "Hi, Rumi."

Rumi, not one to miss an opportunity, reached out and playfully grabbed Izuku's face, calling him by the nickname "sunshine." Izuku's cheeks turned a shade of red, and he responded timidly, "I'm not a baby anymore, you know."

Mirko playfully poked his cheek, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, someone around here said I'm the big sister," she teased.

Izuku sighed but couldn't help but laugh. He stepped out of her room, closing the door behind him. Meanwhile, Rumi began to change out of her sleepwear, removing her top. She called out to Izuku from behind the door, "Hey, Izuku, are you ready for the first day of school?"

Izuku replied, his voice slightly muffled by the closed door, "Yeah, I guess I am. But I'm not really looking forward to it."

Rumi fell silent, her thoughts drifting to her beloved younger brother, Izuku. She adored him with all her heart and beneath her tough exterior, she was secretly worried about him. At the age of 23, Rumi was a renowned hero, currently ranked in the top 20 among Japanese heroes. To many, she was the embodiment of the "ideal child," but the reality was quite different.

Back in school, despite graduating with a high school diploma, Rumi had always been far from the top of her class. Unless the subject involved heroes, her attention waned quickly. She was stubborn, a “punch-first, ask-questions-later” type of person, the complete opposite of Izuku.

Despite being quirkless, Izuku had proven himself to be exceptionally intelligent. He consistently earned 'A' and 'B' grades throughout his school years. What made him even more remarkable was his keen observation skills and analytical mind. Every time he witnessed one of Rumi's heroics, he took detailed notes in his journal and provided her with valuable feedback.

Rumi couldn't help but be proud of her little brother's dedication and talents.

Rumi sighed and replied, "I get it, school sucks." Both of them shared a moment of understanding, having their own reasons for not particularly enjoying the school environment. Izuku decided it was time to head out, mentioning that he needed to put on his shoes. He left, leaving Rumi to her own devices.

Stretching herself slightly, Rumi moved over to the mirror. Despite her petite stature, she was seriously fit. Her physique was a testament to her dedication to hero work. Her lower body was incredibly developed and muscular, a result of her intense training. The same applied to her upper body, although it might not be as pronounced as her legs.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, Rumi couldn't help but appreciate the strength she had built over the years. Her gaze drifted down and she cheekily checked out her posterior, a playful grin forming on her lips.

It was moments like these, when she was alone in her room, that Rumi allowed herself to embrace her femininity. Even though she was a fierce hero known for her strength, she still had a sense of vanity and she secretly enjoyed flaunting her physical prowess when no one was watching.

With a final glance in the mirror, Rumi made sure everything was in order before heading out of her room to face the challenges of the day.

After taking her time to brush her teeth and shower, Rumi made her way downstairs and finally entered the kitchen. Her mother had left a note attached to the fridge. Rumi glanced at it and read the message. She sighed and muttered, "Great, I have to do house chores." It wasn't exactly her favorite way to start the day.

Rumi scanned the table and noticed there was breakfast waiting for her. Izuku had intentionally left his meal unfinished and left it for her. A grateful smile formed on her face as she thought, "Izuku... Mom, you guys are the best." She wasted no time in digging into her breakfast, enjoying the thoughtfulness of her family.

As she devoured her meal, Rumi couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. It was these small gestures of kindness that reminded her of the bond she shared with her family, even though she often put up a tough exterior. After finishing her breakfast, she reluctantly embarked on her house chores, albeit with a minor grumble here and there.

Rumi went about cleaning the house, she couldn't help but come across a few old photographs scattered around. These images brought back a flood of memories, some joyful and heartwarming, others bittersweet.

Among them were pictures of her and Izuku, captured during happier times. There were snapshots of their childhood, her first steps, the day she first wore her hero costume and her high school graduation. Each photo held a piece of their shared history and Rumi couldn't help but smile as she glanced at them.

Then, there were photos of their mother, Inko, when she was younger, smiling brightly. Some of them depicted Inko with her... ex-husband. Rumi's smile faded as she saw a particular photo of her mother in a wedding gown, a much younger version of herself standing next to a man who was, in every sense of the word, her biological father.

Rumi couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment as she gazed at that picture. Her relationship with her father had been strained, to say the least and she had long distanced herself from him. Despite the mixed emotions, Rumi continued to clean the house, tucking away the photographs and keeping her thoughts to herself.

She continued to clean diligently, working through the various chores that needed attention. After an hour and a half of dedicated service, Rumi finally completed her cleaning and household tasks. She glanced at the clock and thought, "I still have some time and energy left for a quick workout."

Rumi made her way to her room and then headed back downstairs ten minutes later, carrying her gym bag. She paused in front of the kitchen, considering a final check to make sure everything was in order before leaving for her workout. As she approached the kitchen, something caught her eye and it left her momentarily stunned.

There, in the kitchen, stood a tall man with fiery red hair. He was wearing round glasses with red-tinted lenses and carrying several bags of groceries in his arms. The man turned towards Rumi and gave her a friendly wave.

Rumi's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the unexpected sight of this stranger in their home.

Without hesitation, Rumi unleashed her best kick, shouting, "Luna Fall !" Her kick sailed through the air with precision, aimed directly at the intruder. However, just at the last moment, the person managed to dodge her attack, leaving Rumi bewildered and muttering under her breath about a huge misunderstanding.

Before the intruder could explain himself, Rumi swiftly followed up with a powerful "Luna Arc," a violent and acrobatic maneuver but once again, her target managed to evade her attack, displaying impressive agility and reflexes.

Despite her initial suspicions, it was clear that this man was not your average villain. In fact, he seemed more like a skilled acrobat or martial artist. However, Rumi was too caught up in the moment to consider this. She was determined to defend her home and family and she wasn't in the mood to listen to explanations.

The redhead, now sans glasses, tried to speak, "Wait, you've got it all wrong !" But Rumi's instincts had already kicked in, and she wouldn't be swayed.

In her mind, this intruder had crossed a line by entering their home uninvited and she was ready to teach him a lesson.

The red-haired young man found himself bleeding from the lip and nose, struggling to keep up with Rumi's relentless barrage of kicks and knee strikes. In his mind, he muttered, "She's gonna murder me!"

Rumi continued to unleash a flurry of attacks, using her acrobatic combat style to its full potential. The intruder was left with little choice but to either block her strikes or take them head-on. The living room became the battleground for their unexpected confrontation.

As Rumi prepared to deliver another powerful kick, she quickly adapted her strategy. With a skilled twist of her body, she redirected her kick towards her opponent's feet. The red-haired man was caught off guard, and his balance wavered.

However, before Rumi could complete her attack, they were interrupted by the sound of her mother's voice. Inko called out from outside the kitchen, asking what was going on.

After a series of explanations and a few awkward moments later, everyone involved found themselves gathered in the living room.

"Mom... you could have told me by a call, a few seconds later and he'd be at the morgue," Rumi lamented, her frustration and relief mixing in her voice.

The red-haired man, who had borne the brunt of Rumi's ferocious attacks, chuckled softly and replied, "Well, even if that kick had landed, it wouldn't have done much."

Rumi couldn't help but let out a low growl and mumbled a choice expletive under her breath. Her emotions were still running high from the encounter and the adrenaline was slowly subsiding.

Turning to her mother, Inko, Rumi demanded an explanation. "Mom, where did this guy come from anyway ? Why didn't you warn me?"

The red-haired man, who had picked up his broken glasses, cleared his throat and in a calm and composed tone, introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Matthew Murdock, I'm 25 years old and I’m blind and also a very good lawyer."

Chapter Text

Inko was in the kitchen, preparing dinner with the help of Izuku. They chatted and laughed as they worked together. The comforting aroma of home-cooked food filled the air. Rumi finally arrived home, looking exhausted from her day. She wore a gray hoodie and sporty leggings, with a black cap pulled low over her head. Rumi gave her mother a tired peck on the cheek and affectionately ruffled Izuku's hair, earning a sweet smile from her younger brother.

Izuku, curious about his sister's day asked, "So Rumi, how was your day ?"

Rumi let out a sigh that betrayed her exhaustion and frustration. Inko couldn't help but chuckle at her daughter's dramatic sigh. She knew Rumi had a tendency to be quite expressive.

"Well," Rumi began, "you know how it is, another day of heroics and villain chasing."

Izuku eagerly started explaining his own day, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as he spoke about his favorite heroes and their latest feats. Rumi couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully. She knew her brother all too well, his passion for superheroes was like an addiction

Rumi and Inko exchanged discreet glances, their unspoken connection evident. Izuku continued recounting the events of his day after returning from school, his excitement unabated. Once he finished sharing his day's highlights, he returned to his task and turned his attention to his mother.

With a momentary pause in her cooking, Inko reflected on her own day before speaking. Rumi listened attentively, curious about what her mother had to say.

"Well," Inko began, "my day was quite ordinary. I did some shopping and met with some of our neighbors." She smiled gently.

Izuku went to the refrigerator and fetched a cold drink. He tossed it to Rumi, who expertly caught it and took a refreshing sip.

Just as Rumi was settling into the conversation, her ears perked up when she heard the name Matt Murdock, the new neighbor. Her expression tightened slightly. Ever since their altercation just a week ago, Rumi harbored mixed feelings about the new neighbor

Inko continued to speak fondly of their new neighbor, praising him as a true gentleman who had been nothing but kind and helpful since moving in. She spoke of his willingness to lend a hand and his friendly demeanor, which had won over many of their neighbors.

As Inko shared more details about Matt Murdock, she eventually mentioned a key piece of information that piqued Rumi's interest : His blindness. Rumi mentally paused at this revelation, recalling her recent observations. She distinctly remembered that Matt didn't use a white cane and he had displayed impressive evasion and blocking skills during their encounter. Something didn't quite add up in her mind.

"Today at 8 PM," Inko's voice broke through Rumi's thoughts, snapping her back to reality.

Izuku nodded and Rumi now thoroughly confused, couldn't help but ask, "What's happening at 8 PM today ?"

Inko explained, "Mr. Murdock is coming over to our house for dinner."

Rumi immediately protested, her earlier irritation resurfacing. "Mom, you can't be serious. After what happened the other day, I don't want that guy in our house!"

Inko gently reminded her daughter, "Rumi dear, it's not right to hold a grudge. Besides, he was just dropping off some things in the kitchen and you know, hitting a blind person is not something we should condone."

Rumi huffed in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. "Mom, I didn't do anything wrong !" she insisted.

Rumi couldn't contain her frustration any longer. She stood up, muttering insults under her breath directed at the troublesome neighbor. Inko, noticing her daughter's sudden outburst, turned to her and asked, "Did you say something, Rumi ?"

Rumi, unwilling to engage in further discussion, bolted towards her bedroom. Her anger was palpable. Izuku, who had been quietly observing the situation, couldn't help but chuckle at his sister's dramatic exit.

Inko let out a tired sigh, muttering to herself, "Such a difficult daughter."

Meanwhile, Rumi stormed into her room and angrily tossed her bag onto the floor. She began to strip out of her clothes, her frustration evident. As she checked herself in the mirror, her hero costume appeared worse for wear, riddled with tears and scorch marks. She let out a frustrated growl.

"I can't believe this," she muttered to herself. "I'll have to visit the tailor again for another costume repair."

Rumi yanked her costume off and tossed it onto the floor then attempted to sit on her bed. A grimace crossed her face as she winced in pain. She quickly stood up and checked her body in the mirror

Rumi stared at her hybrid body in the mirror, a unique blend of rabbit and human features. She was clad only in a sports bra and underwear, revealing the aftermath of her latest hero mission. Bruises adorned her skin, a faint cut marked her cheek, and a burn scar marred her abdomen. She could feel the soreness in her back and legs, a reminder of the physical toll her work as a hero often took.

"Sometimes, I curse this job," Rumi muttered to herself, her voice tinged with exhaustion and frustration.

With a sigh, she grabbed a fresh set of clothes and a towel, then exited her room, making her way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

The clock ticked to 8:25 PM. Rumi glanced at her phone, a hint of impatience in her voice as she remarked, "He's late."

Inko, sitting nearby, couldn't help but feel slightly concerned. "He might be delayed due to… I don’t know… work ?" she suggested, trying to ease Rumi's annoyance.

Rolling her eyes, Rumi muttered, "Or maybe he just can't keep time."

Curiosity got the better of Izuku, who approached Rumi and asked, "What does our neighbor look like? I've never seen him."

Rumi began to describe their elusive neighbor. "Well, he's just some guy in his twenties, maybe mid twenties with that ridiculous red hair of his. He's kinda tall, like barely scraping past 6 feet but that's about it and he thinks he's all tough, like you can tell by those beefy forearms he's showing off. Oh, and don't even get me started on that pathetic excuse for stubble he's trying to grow."

Just as the description ended, a knock at the door resonated through the room. All eyes turned towards the door and Izuku rose to his feet, heading to open it. With a quick turn of the knob, he revealed a tall man in his twenties, with fiery red hair and a presence that immediately commanded attention. Standing well over 6 feet tall, he dwarfed Izuku, who seemed tiny in comparison. The stranger's muscled build was evident, particularly in his forearms and his scruffy beard added to his rugged appearance.

Izuku greeted the man politely, who then inquired, "Hi… is this the Midoriya residence ?"

Inko approached the door and Izuku confirmed, "Yes, this is the Midoriya house."

Inko extended a welcoming hand and greeted their neighbor with politeness. "Mr Murdock"

The man reciprocated witha friendly smile. "Oh Mrs Midoriya", he replied, his voice carrying a sense of warmth.

With a sheepish smile, Matt apologized for his tardiness and retrieved a bouquet of flowers from behind him, which he handed to Inko. The bouquet was composed of various Japanese flowers. Inko's face lit up with a warm smile as she graciously accepted the bouquet.

"Oh, these are lovely," Inko remarked, leaning in to take in the fragrant scent of the flowers. "Thank you, Matt."

Matt returned the smile and nodded, "You're welcome. I hope you like them."

Inko invited Matt inside and he followed her into the house. He discreetly used his white cane to navigate the unfamiliar space but also relied on his enhanced senses to get a feel for his surroundings, meanwhile Izuku and Rumi took their seats at the dining table. Rumi shot a piercing glare at the red-haired newcomer.

Inko began to introduce her children to Matt, starting with her son. Izuku stood up and extended his hand towards Matt. As they shook hands, Izuku couldn't help but notice the strength in Matt's grip and he complimented Matt's distinctive red-tinted glasses.

"I like your glasses, they're unique," Izuku commented with a friendly smile.

Matt chuckled and replied, "Thanks, they're one of a kind," delivering a light punch to Izuku's shoulder in a playful manner. Laughter filled the room, though not everyone joined in.

Inko then turned her attention to Rumi, prompting her to stand up and greet their guest. She introduced her daughter with a firm tone.

Matt extended his arm once more, apologizing once again as he offered his hand to Rumi. With an unyielding expression, Rumi regarded Matt's outstretched hand, her voice carrying a stern edge as she conveyed her displeasure. "You're late," she stated bluntly.

Matt withdrew his hand as Rumi's stern words hung in the air. Inko quickly stepped in to apologize for Rumi's bluntness but Rumi didn't back down, insisting that she meant every word. Inko sighed, realizing that her daughter's attitude was affecting the atmosphere of the evening. She took her seat at the table and the family and their guest began to eat in silence.

The tension in the room was palpable until Izuku, sensing the need to break the ice, timidly started a conversation with Matt. With a small smile, Izuku asked, "I heard you're American, Mr Murdock. Is that true?"

Matt nodded and replied, "Yes, I'm from New York, specifically Hell's Kitchen."

Inko a bit perplexed, chimed in, "Hell's Kitchen ? I've never heard of that place."

Izuku began to explain to his mother, "okay so New York City is enormous Mom. It's divided into several large boroughs, including Manhattan, Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens, and Staten Island. Hell's Kitchen is a neighborhood on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan in New York City. It's generally considered to be bordered by 34th Street or 41st Street to the south, 59th Street to the north, Eighth Avenue to the east and the Hudson River to the west." He concluded his explanation with a proud smile.

Rumi, however, was somewhat confused. She couldn't help but wonder how her brother knew all this about a place he had never visited. Matt, on the other hand, was genuinely surprised by Izuku's knowledge. "Woah… that’s wei- I’m mean you're absolutely right," Matt said, clearly taken aback by Izuku's detailed description of Hell's Kitchen.

Izuku, sensing that Matt might find his knowledge strange, felt a twinge of self-consciousness. He worried that Matt might think he was weird for knowing so much about a place he had never been to.
Inko, curious about Matt's presence in Japan, asked him, "So, what brings you to Japan ?"

Matt continued eating, taking a moment to think of an answer. Rumi's firm and unyielding gaze remained fixed on him, making him feel somewhat self-conscious. Finally, he decided to reply with a hint of humor, "Well, I figured it was time to escape my ex back in the States."

Inko chuckled lightly at his response, finding his sense of humor endearing. Matt then continued, this time with a bit more seriousness, "But, on a more professional note, I was offered a job here in Japan."

Inko's interest was piqued. "Is it related to your work as a lawyer?" she inquired.

Izuku, who had been listening intently, couldn't help but interject, "You're a lawyer?"

Matt grinned, taking a hint of pride in his profession. "Yep, I'm a criminal defense attorney," he explained.

Izuku was truly impressed by Matt's profession and Matt, with a hint of pride, continued to explain his career, saying, "I've been practicing law for about three years now. I've had the opportunity to work on various cases."

As Matt elaborated on some of his experiences, Izuku's eyes sparkled with admiration. The young man couldn't help but feel inspired by the attorney's dedication to justice.

However, Rumi, ever the pragmatic one, interrupted the moment with a question of her own. She turned her firm gaze towards Matt and asked, "Besides defending criminals, do you have any hobbies or interests?"

Inko's eyes widened in surprise as she heard Rumi's subtle insult. Inko quickly apologized on her daughter's behalf, feeling embarrassed for the remark. But Matt, ever understanding and good-natured, reassured her with a warm smile.

"It's alright, Inko," Matt said kindly. "I'm used to it."

In a friendly tone, Matt continued, "You know, since I don't have sight, I tend to pay close attention to the sounds around me and like a child I try to imagine a story behind every sound I hear."

Inko couldn't help but be touched by Matt's unique hobby. She let out a heartfelt "awww," appreciating the way he found joy in the world around him.

On the other hand, Rumi, who had rolled her eyes at Matt's previous statement, muttered a discreet insult under her breath. Matt, however, seemed unfazed and continued to share more about himself.

"I also have a collection of quirky gifts and odd objects back in New York," Matt revealed, his enthusiasm evident. "It's a little hobby I've had for a while now."

Izuku, genuinely interested, asked Matt, "What do you usually collect?"

Before Matt could respond, Rumi couldn't resist making another targeted comment, aiming it squarely at him. Inko, growing increasingly frustrated with her daughter's behavior, whispered a stern warning for Rumi to stop or face consequences.

Rumi, unfazed by her mother's warning, abruptly stood up from the table and declared, "I'm not hungry anymore."

Despite the tension in the room, dinner continued for a while longer. Matt shared stories about the bustling life in New York City, the different hero groups and vigilantes and even touched on his challenging childhood as a blind individual.

As the conversation unfolded, Izuku and Matt found common ground and began to connect on various topics, quickly forming a bond that transcended their initial awkwardness.

"It's already 10 PM!" Inko exclaimed, glancing at the clock in mild surprise.

Matt, feigning a touch of surprise, replied, "Wow, time flies when you're having a good time."

In reality, Matt had been well aware of the time thanks to his heightened senses. He took a moment to compliment Inko on her cooking and express his gratitude for her hospitality.

"Your cooking is fantastic Mrs Midoriya. Thank you for having me," Matt said with genuine appreciation.

Inko beamed with a warm smile and replied, "You're very welcome, Matt and if you ever need any help or have any problems, don't hesitate to reach out."

Matt shook both Inko and Izuku's hands with gratitude before bidding them goodnight. As he made his way home.

Matt walked away from the Midoriya house, sighing softly as he went. He loosened his tie, feeling the weight of the evening on his shoulders. Rumi's constant scrutiny during dinner had not gone unnoticed and he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a less-than-stellar impression. Matt had wanted to offer a proper apology but it seemed he had missed his chance.

As he prepared to stow away his white cane, his heightened senses detected a presence nearby. He turned his head in the direction of the Midoriya's window and there she was, Rumi Midoriya. Matt couldn't help but let out another weary sigh.

He shook his head, "what a hysterical woman."

Matt continued on his way, the events of the evening swirling in his mind as he made his journey back home.

Chapter Text

Two months had passed since Matt had come over for dinner. In the interim, Inko had strongly urged Rumi to go and apologize to Matt, a request that had deeply unsettled Rumi due to her stubborn character. Consequently, the relationship between Rumi and Matt had deteriorated to the point of non-existence.

Meanwhile, during those same two months, Izuku had commenced his final year of middle school. This was in stark contrast to his sister's situation, who was in a completely different place in life. Surprisingly, Matt and Izuku's bond was rapidly growing stronger. Matt had become a true role model for Izuku. The unique dynamic of Matt being blind and Izuku being quirkless played a significant role in fostering their friendship.

On Inko's side, she adored Matt's personality; he was always wearing a bright smile and often indulged in charming jokes. His presence brought a contagious, positive energy into the house that everyone couldn't help but be uplifted by. Inko at the beginning call him Mr. Murdock, which eventually evolved into simply Matt and even playfully Matty. On the flip side, Matt had also shifted from addressing Inko as Mrs. Midoriya to using her first name, Inko, signifying the comfortable and close bond they had developed over time.

Rumi's discomfort with Matt's presence at their home continued to fester. She couldn't shake the feeling that Matt was encroaching on her family, becoming a permanent fixture in their lives. While her mother, Inko and her brother Izuku had embraced Matt with open arms, Rumi couldn't help but resent him.

Matt had tried several times to strike up a conversation with Rumi to break through the icy barrier she had erected around herself but each attempt had met with limited success and Rumi found herself pushing him away at every opportunity.

In her eyes, Matt was far too perfect. His blindness, which should have been a weakness, seemed to be nothing more than an inconvenience. He moved with such confidence and grace as if he had never lost his sight. His ability to identify people and objects, to navigate their home without hesitation, frustrated Rumi to no end.

Izuku had attempted to explain to his sister that Matt possessed a low-level quirk related to geolocation, which allowed him to discern the positions of people and objects in his vicinity but Rumi dismissed the explanation as a feeble excuse. She couldn't accept that someone could adapt so seamlessly to life without sight.

It was 12 PM when Matthew finally arrived at his destination, which happened to be a school, more precisely, Ketsubutsu High School. As he stepped out of the taxi, he courteously paid the cab driver, including a generous tip for the quick and smooth ride. With a sense of purpose, he headed towards the school's entrance.

Entering the imposing building posed no challenge for Matthew, he navigated through the entrance effortlessly, guided by the familiar sounds and tactile sensations he had come to rely on. He moved with confidence, his footsteps echoing softly in the corridor.

Matthew was dressed in a smart and understated ensemble, wearing a navy blue shirt with a subtle sheen, opting to forgo a tie for the occasion. His choice of attire was complemented by a pair of neatly pressed black trousers that added a touch of professionalism to his appearance. In one hand, he carried a sophisticated brown leather briefcase, neatly organized with an array of documents and papers, a testament to his meticulous nature and commitment to his work.

Of course, he didn't forget his trusted white cane, an essential tool that allowed him to navigate his surroundings with precision and independence. Slung stylishly over his shirt collar were his distinctive red framed glasses

As Matthew navigated the school corridor, he took a moment to prepare himself. He focused his attention, activating his extraordinary senses of hearing and smell, a heightened perception that had become his unique way of seeing the world. It was a skill he had honed over the years, a result of his extraordinary senses compensating for his lack of sight.

With a deep breath, Matthew's world shifted. He could feel the subtle vibrations in the air, the echoes of sound bouncing off walls and objects around him. Each footstep, each whispered conversation and even the faintest rustle of clothing became a distinct note in the symphony of the school's activity.

As he walked, he listened carefully, discerning the differences in sound that indicated the proximity of walls, doors and other obstacles. The corridor seemed to stretch out before him, a mental map created through the symphony of sound that surrounded him.

"Okay folks, time to get to work," Matt murmured to himself, his words a quiet affirmation of his mission.

His sense of smell was equally impressive. He could detect scents and odors that most people would overlook. The school's distinctive aroma, a mixture of polished wood, fresh paper and the lingering scent of cafeteria food, wafted through the air, painting a vivid olfactory picture of his surroundings.

As Matthew continued down the corridor, he noticed a group of women who had paused in their conversation. Their voices, mature and seasoned, indicated that they were likely teachers or staff members. His acute senses allowed him to pinpoint their location with precision.

One of the women in the group, the shortest and most animated among them, stepped forward and caught Matthew's attention. She had an energy about her that was infectious. Matthew offered a polite nod as he focused on her voice.

"Hello there," Matthew greeted, his tone friendly and inviting.

The woman beamed at him, her voice lively and animated. "You're new around here, aren't you?"

Matthew chuckled, his sense of humor ever-present. "Guilty as charged. Matthew Murdock but you can call me Matt."

The group of women laughed in response to his introduction, appreciating his easygoing nature.

The woman who had approached him turned to her colleagues and said, "Hey, everyone, meet our new friend, Matt. He's got quite the sense of humor."

Amid the laughter, the woman extended her hand toward Matthew. "I'm Emi Fukukado but you can call me Ms. Joke."

Matthew shook her hand with a smile, intrigued by her lively personality. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Joke. You certainly live up to your name."

Ms. Joke's eyes lit up with recognition as she connected the dots. "Wait a minute... are you the American lawyer the HPSC brought in for school visits, are you?"

Matthew confirmed with a nod and a smile, "Yes, that's me."

"Great ! Anyways ladies see you around" Emi said bye to her colleagues with a cheerful wave and then she turned to Matthew. "Are you ready to start right away?"

Matthew's response was prompt and eager, "Absolutely."

The two of them proceeded down the hallway, Matthew's white cane tapping rhythmically as they walked. Emi complimented Matthew on his Japanese, noting how fluent and clear it was with very little accent.

Matthew explained, "I learned Japanese in high school and continued studying it in college. It's been a while but I'm still able to hold a conversation."

As they made their way to the classroom, Emi continued the conversation in Japanese, impressed by Matthew's language skills. "That's fantastic ! Your Japanese is really impressive. I'm sure the students will appreciate it."

Finally, they arrived at the classroom door and Emi turned to Matthew with a warm smile. "Here we are. Let's go in and meet the students."

Mirko was in hot pursuit of a criminal with a formidable super-speed quirk. Her muscles coiled like springs as she sprinted across the rooftops, effortlessly leaping from one building to the next in her relentless pursuit.

She wasn't in the mood for games, her sharp crimson eyes narrowed with determination. The villain ahead was no match for her speed but she sensed that he was beginning to slow down. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

An opportunity presented itself and Mirko seized it. With a powerful leap, she descended from the rooftop and landed gracefully on the sidewalk below, her powerful legs absorbing the impact. She wasted no time and sprinted towards the slowing villain, her adrenaline-fueled determination propelling her forward.

In an instant, she closed the gap, her lithe and muscular form a blur. With precision and lightning speed, Mirko's powerful leg shot out, her foot connecting with the back of the villain's neck with a resounding impact. The force of her kick sent shockwaves through the villain's body and he crumpled to the ground, knocked out cold.

As the defeated criminal lay motionless, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air. The police were on their way, along with fellow heroes responding to the scene. Mirko stood over the subdued villain, her chest heaving with exertion but her expression unwavering.

Soon, the authorities arrived and a group of heroes surrounded Mirko. Some chastised her for what they perceived as excessive force but she paid them little heed. Mirko was known for her no-nonsense approach to crime-fighting, and she had little patience for those who couldn't keep up.

With a dismissive glance, Mirko turned and walked away, her long ears twitching with annoyance. She had a city to protect and nothing would stand in her way, not even the criticisms of her fellow heroes.

Matt had just concluded his presentation at Ketsubutsu High School and he walked calmly toward the exit of the school. Ms. Joke, still filled with energy and enthusiasm, approached him with a smile.

"That was a fantastic presentation, Matt ! You really had the students engaged," she commented.

Matt returned her smile warmly. "Thank you, Ms. Joke. I'm glad I could make it interesting for them."

As they continued to chat, Matt couldn't resist sharing a light hearted joke. "You know, Ms. Joke, I've heard a lot about your sense of humor. How about I tell you one of my own?"

Ms. Joke's eyes twinkled with anticipation, and she nodded enthusiastically. "All ears, Matt!"

Matt delivered the joke with impeccable timing and Ms. Joke burst into laughter. Her infectious mirth filled the corridor.

Once the laughter subsided, Matt's smile remained. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Joke. Your hospitality and the students enthusiasm have been wonderful."

Ms. Joke beamed, appreciative of his kind words. "You're very welcome, Matt. It was a pleasure having you here. By the way, which school are you visiting next ?"

Matt paused for a moment to think. "My next stop is UA High School."

Ms. Joke's eyes lit up with delight. "UA High School ? That's my boyfriend's school!"

Shota Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada, better known as Eraser Head and Present Mic, respectively, were in the midst of a conversation in their own world when something seemed to shift in Aizawa's demeanor. Hizashi noticed the change and couldn't help but inquire.

Hizashi leaned in slightly, concern etched on his face. "Hey Shota is everything alright ? You look like something's bothering you."

Aizawa's gaze sharpened as he tried to pinpoint the source of his unease. He muttered under his breath, "Just... a bad feeling."

Later that day, Inko and Rumi walked together on their way back home, the gentle rhythm of their steps a comforting cadence. Inko held a paper bag filled with delicious fried chicken and she occasionally took a bite, savoring the crispy goodness.

Rumi, on the other hand, sipped on a refreshing iced tea, a respite from the day's warmth. The clinking of ice cubes against the glass accompanied their conversation.

They chatted animatedly about their respective days, sharing anecdotes and small triumphs, enjoying each other's company then, Inko casually introduced a name into their conversation. "Oh Rumi, by the way, Matt invited us over to his place for dinner next week. I thought it would be nice."

Rumi's reaction was subtle but her eyes spoke volumes. She didn't say a word but her displeasure was evident.

Inko glanced at her daughter, her expression a mix of understanding and concern. "Rumi, is there something wrong ? You don't seem too thrilled about Matt's invitation."

Inko couldn't help but chuckle at her daughter's frustration as they continued their walk home. She had always found Rumi's passionate expressions endearing.

"Why so much anger against him, Rumi?" Inko asked gently, genuinely curious about her daughter's perspective.

Rumi took a deep breath and began to explain, her tone a mix of exasperation and concern. "Okay mom, hear me out it's just that Matt is... weird. Like, super-duper weird. He's always smiling and his jokes are just... not funny at all and he always drag Izuku in some shenanigans about morality, justice, etc. Plus he's constantly on the edge of being friendly and flirting with you. "

Inko rolled her eyes playfully and let out a light laugh, recognizing her daughter's protective instincts. "Oh, Rumi, you're just looking out for your old mom. Matt is a genuinely nice person and he's just being friendly."

Rumi grumbled to herself, continuing to vent her frustrations about Matt in a low, grumbling tone.

Inko glanced at her daughter with a fond smile, seeing her as the little green-haired rabbit she had always been. As Inko looked at her daughter, Rumi, she couldn't help but see a reflection of both Izuku and a bit of herself, but also a hint of her ex-husband, all in the best possible way. Rumi's determination and protectiveness were qualities she recognized from her own past.

Rumi finished venting about the "sinister" Matthew Murdock and Inko let out a sigh, knowing that her daughter's strong opinions were not easily swayed.

Inko gently placed a hand on Rumi's shoulder and implored, "Rumi, please, just give Matt a chance. You might be surprised. He's a kind hearted person."

Rumi initially responded with a defiant non but when she saw the look of earnest concern in her mother's eyes, she relented. Inko's influence had always been powerful, even when Rumi was determined to stand her ground.

With a playful roll of her eyes and a small smile, Rumi conceded, "Fine, mom. I'll give him a chance."

Inko's face lit up with gratitude and she leaned in to plant a loving kiss on her daughter's cheek. Rumi's eyes rolled again but this time it was accompanied by an affectionate smile.

Rumi's protective instincts were still strong as she issued a series of playful yet serious requests to her mother.

"Mom, promise me you won't fall for his devilish charm," Rumi insisted, her tone lighthearted but sincere.

Inko chuckled and replied with a wink, "I promise, not succumbing to Matt devilish charms."

Rumi wasn't done. She pressed on, making her demands clear. "And don't you dare flirt back with him !"

Inko rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "I promise, I won't flirt back."

Rumi took a breath, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "And definitely not... you know, sleeping w-"

Inko, however, interrupted her daughter mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Rumi Midoriya ! Matt could be my son!"

Rumi blushed as well, realizing the awkwardness of her request. "I was just making sure"

Inko couldn't help but give her daughter a sly smile, enjoying the playful banter. "You know, Rumi, it's funny how suddenly you're so concerned about Matt."

Rumi stopped in her tracks, her expression a mix of surprise and realization. Inko continued, her voice teasing, "Could it be that you have a little crush on him ?"

Rumi groaned, caught off guard by her mother's insight, and continued walking. Inko couldn't contain her laughter. "Eww… never in my lifetime."

Suddenly without warning, a man with crab like pincers for hands appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Inko by her hair and pulling her backward. Inko let out a gasp of surprise and pain as she was forcefully yanked.

Rumi immediately tried to intervene, her instincts kicking in but the menacing villain warned, "Don't even think about it or I'll snap her like a twig."

Rumi growled in frustration, her hands clenched into fists but she knew that making a reckless move could jeopardize her mother's safety.

The villain grinned menacingly, displaying all his teeth like a predatory creature. His grip on Inko remained relentless.

Inko, despite the fear coursing through her, managed a reassuring smile toward her daughter. She spoke with a calm yet quivering voice, "Rumi, stay calm and don't make any sudden movements… e-everything would be fine"

Rumi gritted her teeth, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anger. She had always been the bold and fearless one but this situation, a hostage crisis, was unfamiliar territory for her. She nodded to her mother, doing her best to follow her advice.

In the tense silence that hung in the air, there were no passersby or witnesses to the unfolding crisis. Rumi's mind raced, searching for a way to free her mother from the clutches of the menacing villain.

The villain's warning still fresh in her mind, Rumi weighed her options carefully. Her instincts screamed for action but she knew that making a rash move could put her mother in even greater danger.

As the seconds ticked by, the villain's grip on Inko remained tight and he repeated his demand for Rumi to remain silent and not attempt anything foolish.

Just when the situation seemed almost unbearable, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the narrow alleyway. Rumi's heart skipped a beat as she turned her attention toward the source of the noise.

It was Matt.

The villain quickly noticed that Matthew was blind, thanks to his white cane and his seemingly unimpaired demeanor. Despite the dire circumstances, Matt continued to approach them calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

With a friendly tone, he greeted Rumi and Inko. "Hey there ladies How's the day ?"

Inko, doing her best to maintain a facade of normalcy, responded with a warm smile. "Oh, you know, the usual. Just taking a little walk."

Rumi, although tense, also greeted Matt politely. "Yeah, just a leisurely stroll."

The villain watched their interactions carefully, his grip on Inko remaining firm, but he couldn't help but feel a growing unease. Matt's blindness seemed to confuse him, making him question how much of a threat the seemingly ordinary man truly posed

Matt continued to approach the villain, extending his hand in a friendly greeting. His blind eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, gave nothing away as he maintained his polite and seemingly oblivious demeanor.

With a warm smile, Matt introduced himself, "I'm Matt Murdock. I live nearby. Are you a friend of the family as well ?"

The villain, now thoroughly perplexed by the situation, hesitated for a moment. He exchanged a cautious glance with Inko. After a brief internal struggle, he reluctantly extended his own hand and replied, "I'm... uh yeah, I know these folks."

As Matt shook hands with the villain, he sensed the man's muscles relaxing and his grip on Inko's hair weakened. It was the opening Matt had been waiting for and he thought to himself, "His guard is down and he underestimates me... perfect."

With lightning-fast reflexes, the red-haired blind man grasped the villain's wrist at the last moment, a confident grin on his face as he calmly stated, "I got you."

In the blink of an eye, out of nowhere, Izuku swung his school bag like a makeshift mace, striking the villain and throwing him off balance. The bag spilled a few rocks onto the ground as Inko was finally freed from his grasp.

Taking advantage of the moment, Matt followed up with a precise move, executing an Ippon Seoi Nage, sending the imposing man crashing to the ground.

Just as the villain struggled to regain his composure, Rumi yelled her technique, "Luna fall" and delivered a powerful descending kick, striking the villain and ensuring he stayed down.

Inko rushed to her daughter, enveloping her in a tight embrace, relieved that she was safe. Rumi clung to her mother, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the encounter.

Izuku quickly checked on his mother, ensuring she was unharmed. Once satisfied that she was okay, he joined his sister and mother, his expression a mixture of concern and determination.

Rumi's eyes locked on the fallen villain and started to move toward the fallen villain, Matt gently but firmly stopped her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Rumi, go home with your mother and call the police. Your mother's safety is the priority right now. I've got this."

Rumi opened her mouth to argue but Matt's determination and the confidence in his voice left her momentarily speechless. She glanced back at the villain, who was starting to stir.

With a reluctant nod, Rumi turned to leave, heading back home with Inko, who was still holding onto her tightly. Matt watched them go, his senses attuned to any movement from the villain.

Matthew acted swiftly, "wake up princess" said Matt by grabbing the villain by the face then lift it and forcefully throwing him to the ground, with a calm tone, he began to speak again.

"Okay, buddy, listen to me," Matt started, his voice unwavering. He twisted the man's wrist, causing him to wince in pain. The villain tried to scream but Matt covered his mouth with a firm hand.

"When you're in prison," Matt continued, "you're going to have to write a letter of apology to that kind lady over there." He nodded in the direction of Inko and Rumi's house. "And if this encounter leaves any lasting mental scars on her... God knows the terrible things I'll do to you."

With that final warning, Matt swiftly and efficiently knocked the villain out with a single, well-placed strike.

A few minutes later, the police arrived at the scene and took charge of the unconscious criminal. They quickly apprehended him and began the process of questioning the three members of the Midoriya family.

After recounting the events, the police officer was particularly impressed by Rumi's bravery and quick thinking. He couldn't help but ask, "Hey, would you mind giving me an autograph, Mirko ? My kid is a huge fan."

Rumi blinked in surprise, her tough exterior momentarily breaking as she signed an autograph for the officer.

As the officer walked away with the autograph, Matt couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. He turned to Izuku and asked in a low voice, "Is your sister famous or something ?"

Izuku chuckled softly, realizing that Matt wasn't aware of Rumi's status. "Yeah, she's Mirko, one of the top pro heroes in the country."

Matt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really ? I had no idea. She certainly knows how to handle herself."

Inko nodded in agreement, proud of her daughter's achievements. "Yes, Rumi is quite remarkable. She's dedicated to her work as a hero."

Matt's visual surprise was evident as Izuku shared his sister's achievements with him. She couldn't help but tease him, saying, "I literally could knock the guy out with a single kick."

Matt chuckled good-naturedly, playing along, "Well you see, I'm blind, so I might have missed that little detail."

Rumi let out an exasperated groan.

Izuku, ever curious, chimed in, "but Matt, what do you think Rumi does for a living then ?"

Matt leaned back thoughtfully

Matt paused for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he began to explain, "You know, Rumi, every time you've come over to the house when I'm there, you've always smelled like a mix of sweat and male sweat and you've complained about back and leg cramps a few times."

Rumi's face turned bright red and she made a move to grab Matt, her anger evident. However, Izuku quickly intervened, physically stopping her from reaching their peculiar neighbor. "Calm down, sis," he urged.

"What are you insinuating ? I’m gonna fucking murder you blind ass" Rumi yelled in a rage, her frustration and embarrassment clear.

Inko sighed, trying to defuse the tension. "Matt, that's not nice," she reproached him.

Matt, realizing his comment had touched a nerve, apologized sheepishly as he retreated behind Inko. "Sorry, I didn't mean to... uh, you know."

"Release me Izuku !" Yell Rumi.

Chapter Text

Matthew Murdock stood at the front of a classroom filled with aspiring young heroes. He was there to give a guest lecture on the importance of respecting the law and understanding the complexities of the hero-villain dynamic.

As he began his lecture, the room was hushed and all eyes were on him. Matthew paced from left to right at the front of the room, his white cane in one hand and he greeted the students with a polite nod.

"Good morning everyone," he began, his voice calm and composed. "I hope you're all ready to dive into a topic that's at the core of what it means to be a hero."

He paused, allowing a beat of silence before he delivered a well-timed punchline. "Or for some of you, what it means to not get caught breaking the law."

The class burst into laughter and Matthew's lips curled into a small smile. He knew the importance of starting the discussion on a lighthearted note.

"As heroes, your primary duty is to protect the innocent and uphold justice," he continued. "But the world isn't always as black and white as we'd like it to be. Sometimes, understanding the law and the motivations of villains is just as crucial as your superpowers."

A student near the front raised a hand and when acknowledged, asked with youthful naivety, "But Mr. Murdock, isn't it simple ? Villains are bad and heroes are good."

Matthew turned his head toward the student, a playful glint in his blind eyes. "Ah my friend, if only it were that straightforward." The class chuckled and Matthew continued, "You see, the world of heroes and villains is much more complex than a simple binary. It's more like a spectrum with shades of gray in between."

Matthew Murdock continued his lecture in the classroom filled with inspiring heroes. He had moved on to the topic of ethics and the intricate relationship between legality and morality.

"Now, let's consider a scenario," Matthew began, his voice measured and thought provoking. "Imagine a situation where an individual witnesses a crime and decides to take matters into their own hands. They intervene, potentially using force to stop the crime and protect innocent lives. Is this action ethical ?"

A student in the front row raised their hand, eager to engage in the discussion. "Yes, it's ethical. They're doing the right thing by stopping the crime and protecting people."

Matthew nodded in acknowledgment of the response. "Very well. Now, let's add a layer of complexity. What if, in the process of stopping the crime, that individual breaks the law? Is it still ethical ?"

The same student furrowed their brow, clearly contemplating the new perspective. After a moment of thought, they conceded, "Well, I guess it's still ethical but it's also illegal."

Matthew's blind eyes remained fixed on the student and he nodded. "Precisely. The ethics of an action and its legality don't always align. In this scenario, the individual may have acted with the best of intentions but they've still broken the law."

He went on to explain that this ethical dilemma often confronted heroes in the real world. Sometimes, the right thing to do morally might conflict with the law, and heroes had to navigate these complexities.

"As professional heroes, you'll find yourselves in situations where you must balance your moral obligations with your legal duties," Matthew continued. "It's a delicate dance and understanding the nuances is crucial."

He then shared his perspective both as a lawyer and as a citizen. He emphasized the importance of upholding the law while striving to do what was right. Matthew's eloquent words resonated with the students, prompting them to ponder the intricacies of their future roles as heroes.

As the lecture progressed, more students chimed in with questions and engaged in thoughtful debate. Matthew encouraged their curiosity and challenged them to think critically about the choices they would face in their heroic careers.

Two and a half hours passed and the lecture came to an end. Matthew wrapped up with a final piece of advice, "Remember that being a hero isn't just about fighting villains; it's about making the world a better place and sometimes, that means working within the system to effect change."

The students applauded, their minds buzzing with newfound insights into the world of heroism.

Matthew Murdock stepped out of the classroom, his lecture on ethics and heroism now concluded. He had enjoyed engaging with the students, challenging their perspectives and encouraging them to think critically about their future roles as heroes.

As he made his way through the hallway, he exchanged polite nods and handshakes with the teachers who had invited him to speak. The feedback had been positive and the faculty appreciated his candor and honesty.

Just as he was about to exit the school building, he heard footsteps following closely behind him. Irritation flickered across his features. Matthew was accustomed to being aware of his surroundings but he had no tolerance for being tailed.

He stopped abruptly, his heightened senses allowing him to pinpoint the presence of the person who had been shadowing him. Turning around, he faced the individual who had been tailing him, a stern expression on his face.

The man who had followed him was a member of the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC), an organization responsible for regulating and overseeing heroes in Japan. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his expression neutral as he regarded Matthew.

"Mr. Murdock, I must say, your lecture was quite impressive," the HPSC member began, his tone polite. "You have a unique perspective on heroism, and your insights were valuable."

Matthew's irritation remained palpable. "Cut to the chase. Why are you following me ?" he demanded.

The HPSC member maintained his composure, seemingly unfazed by Matthew's brusque demeanor. "I followed you to express our appreciation for your contribution to the students education," he explained. "But also to discuss a matter of concern."

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Concern ?"

The HPSC member nodded. "Your perspective, Mr. Murdock, while insightful, may not align with the ideals we hold at the HPSC. We believe that heroes are the embodiment of good, while villains represent evil. There should be a clear demarcation."

Matthew scoffed, his frustration evident. "You believe in black and white, don't you ? Good and evil, with no room for gray areas."

The HPSC member's expression remained composed. "It simplifies matters. It makes it easier for society to understand and trust heroes. Ambiguity can breed doubt."

Matthew's lips curled into a wry smile. "And hypocrisy."

The HPSC member raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. "Hypocrisy?"

Matthew stepped closer, leaned in closer on the personal space of the HPSC agent, his blind eyes staring directly at the HPSC member. "You preach about heroes being the embodiment of good but you ignore the complexities and contradictions that come with the job. Heroes, like anyone else, can make mistakes, have flaws and grapple with moral dilemmas. They're human."

The HPSC member remained stoic. "We must maintain public trust and safety. Heroic actions must be clear-cut and unambiguous."

Matthew shook his head in disappointment. "Your narrow perspective is what allows corruption to fester within your organization. You're so focused on the image of heroism that you've lost sight of what it truly means to protect and serve."

Without waiting for a response, Matthew turned and walked away, leaving the HPSC member standing alone in the hallway. His departure was a clear declaration that he had no interest in conforming to the HPSC's rigid ideals.

Matthew Murdock decided to take a break from his eventful day and headed to a nearby cafe. He found solace in the warm, familiar atmosphere of the place and hoped to clear his mind after the encounter with the persistent HPSC member. As he settled into a corner booth, he couldn't help but mull over his thoughts.

"HPSC," he muttered to himself, stirring his coffee with a thoughtful expression. "An organization of hypocrites, if you ask me."

Sipping his coffee, Matthew let out a sigh, realizing that the complexities of heroism often extended beyond the streets of his city. The world of heroes was filled with different agendas, varying levels of commitment to justice and organizations with their own motivations.

As he contemplated these matters, the cafe's door swung open and a trio of professional heroes entered, their loud banter drawing the attention of everyone inside. They were boisterous, clad in flashy costumes and exuded an air of self-confidence.

The heroes approached the counter, where the servers waited. With exaggerated charm, they attempted to flirt with the waitresses.

Matthew raised his hand politely. "Excuse me miss, could I get some food ?"

The waitress turned toward him, her tired expression brightening into a warm smile. "Of course, sir. I'll be right with you."

Matthew offered her a grateful nod, appreciating her attentiveness.

Matthew continued to enjoy his drink at the café, his heightened senses remained attuned to the sounds and conversations around him. It was then that a young woman entered the restaurant and took a seat not far from the trio of professional heroes. She seemed uneasy, glancing around the room with a hint of apprehension in her eyes.

The tallest and most assertive of the hero trio couldn't resist the opportunity to make himself heard. He began catcalling the young woman, his comments laced with arrogance and entitlement. Matthew could hear the rapid beating of the girl's heart, a telltale sign of her anxiety.

Feeling her discomfort, the young woman whispered softly to herself, a desperate hope that her father would come to her aid evident in her voice. Matthew's heightened senses picked up on her distress and his first instinct was to intervene, to protect her from the unwelcome advances of the hero.

However, something held him back, a mental restraint that he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't fear or uncertainty, Matt had a fierce internal struggle raging within him. He was torn between the instinct to intervene and the newfound belief that heroism was no longer his path.

"You can see that she's scared, Matt," the voice in his head persisted, the voice that had once driven him to don the mantle of Daredevil.
 
"Heroism is no longer my calling," Matt replied stubbornly, though his conviction wavered.

"You don't really mean that," the inner voice countered.

"Yes, I do," Matt argued back, but doubt gnawed at him.

"Why did you intervene when Inko and her daughter were in danger, then?" the voice challenged him.

"It's not the same thing," Matt muttered under his breath.

As the mental debate continued, Matt's acute senses picked up the subtle sounds of the girl with white hair. She rose from her seat, her movements delicate and careful, and bent down to retrieve her glasses.

The smallest member of the trio of pro heroes couldn't resist making unpleasant comment about the young woman's dress and her figure. His voice was loud and obnoxious, drawing attention from everyone in the restaurant. The young girl, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, hastily retrieved her glasses and attempted to make her escape.

But before she could reach the exit, the last member of the hero trio, a man with a horn protruding from his forehead, reached out and grabbed her by the hip. She gasped, her face turning even redder and politely but firmly asked the hero to release her.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I appreciate your... interest, but I'd really like to go now."

The hero, clearly enjoying the attention he was getting, grinned at her and tightened his grip on her hip. "Come on, sweetheart," he leered, "why rush off when you can stay and have some fun with us heroes?"

The young woman's panic was palpable as she scanned the faces in the restaurant, desperately seeking help. However, she found little support among the people around. Some averted their gaze, unwilling to get involved, while others simply ignored the situation unfolding before them. Her whispered plea for someone, anyone, to come to her aid went unanswered.

"Please... someone," she murmured under her breath, her voice trembling with fear.

In that moment, as the trio of pro heroes continued to harass the young woman, Matthew Murdock abruptly rose from his seat. The sudden movement sent ripples of surprise through the restaurant, and all eyes turned toward him. His billy club tapped lightly against the floor with each confident step, the distinct sound echoing in the hushed atmosphere of the establishment.

With measured composure, Matthew approached the trio of heroes, his heightened senses allowing him to pinpoint their positions. He cleared his throat politely before addressing them.

"Gentlemen," he began, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of authority. "I kindly request that you lower your voices and if you would be so kind, release the young lady from your grip." 

As all eyes in the restaurant remained fixed on Matthew Murdock, the smallest member of the hero trio, clearly agitated by the interference, took a step forward. He addressed Matt with a tone between irritation and arrogance.

"What's your problem, buddy?" he demanded, his voice edged with hostility.

Matthew's response was measured and composed. He was accustomed to handling delicate situations with a calm demeanor, even when faced with confrontation.

"No problem at all," he replied, maintaining his polite tone. "I just thought it might be best to lower the volume a bit. We're all here to enjoy our meals, after all. And it seemed the young lady was feeling a bit uncomfortable."

The trio of heroes exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to proceed. The young woman with white hair, who had been at the center of their attention, took the opportunity to discreetly distance herself from the trio.

As the trio of heroes remained standing before Matthew Murdock, their confrontational stance made it clear that they weren't quite ready to back down. The tallest among them, a look of annoyance on his face, took a step forward and demanded to know what Matt's problem was.

Matthew remained composed, his unwavering confidence matching his determination to maintain a sense of order and respect in the restaurant.

"I don't have a problem," he replied with polite yet unwavering conviction. "I simply suggested that perhaps it would be best to lower the volume a bit and if possible, refrain from harassing the young lady here."

The hero with the prominent horn on his forehead, perhaps feeling the pressure to assert dominance, stepped forward with a cup of water in hand. Without warning, he emptied the cup over Matthew's head, drenching him in a rather disrespectful manner. He spoke with a hint of provocation in his voice.

The sudden dousing of water over Matthew elicited gasps and murmurs from the people in the restaurant. Matthew, however, remained remarkably composed, his expression unchanging despite the discomfort of being soaked

Despite the trio's continued provocation, Matt remained remarkably composed. He sensed the young woman's desire to intervene but gently halted her with a subtle gesture using his bāton. The smallest of the hero trio, however, took things a step further. He snatched Matt's glasses from his face and callously threw them to the ground.

"Loser."

"Useless blind guy."

"He actually thought he was a hero."

With those insults, the trio made their exit. The young woman was visibly upset by their behavior and it took all of Matt's willpower to refrain from reacting to their taunts.

The kind-hearted waitress approached, offering to help clean Matt's drenched shirt, but he politely declined her offer with a reassuring smile. He could feel the eyes of the other customer on him but he remained steadfast in his determination not to let the incident ruin his evening.

"I appreciate the offer," Matt said to the waitress, his tone warm and appreciative. "But I'll manage just fine as a blind person I had to deal with worse situations"

The young woman approached Matt, expressing her heartfelt gratitude for his intervention. She was about to thank him again when she suddenly paused. It was only then that she noticed something she hadn't initially observed, Matt's unseeing eyes. She couldn't help but glance at the distinctive red-tipped white cane he held.

"Thank you," she said again, her voice filled with even deeper appreciation. "I didn't realize... I mean, I didn't notice earlier that you're... visually impaired."

Matt gave a gracious nod, his expression thoughtful. "It's alright. Not many people do at first. My blindness isn't always immediately apparent… Matthew, Matthew Murdock," Matt introduced himself once more as he put his glasses back on. "F-Fuyumi... Fuyumi Todoroki," she replied, her voice still tinged with gratitude. Matt offered her a warm smile in return.

Fuyumi wanted to express her appreciation once again but she hesitated, not wanting to overdo it. However, her desire to convey her thanks prevailed. "Thank you so much, Mr Murdock. You have no idea how much your help means to me."

Fuyumi looked at Matthew and pointed to her table and made a tentative offer, "would you... consider having a meal with me, Matthew? It's the least I can do to show my gratitude." her words coming out somewhat timidly.

Matt was taken aback by her offer, not expecting it at all. He paused for a moment, considering her request. After a brief moment of thought, he agreed, realizing that it was a kind gesture from Fuyumi, and he didn't want to refuse her hospitality.

"It's really not necessary, Fuyumi, but if you insist, I'd be honored to join you," Matt said graciously.

"Hello... Oh hey, big guy... you coming late today?... sure sure, no problem, see you then, Izuku," Matthew finished, hanging up the phone. Matt was in a taxi, navigating through the bustling streets of the city. As the car moved along, he rolled down the window, allowing the cool breeze to wash over his face. His hair danced in the wind, ruffled by its gentle caress. The city sounds and distant chatter of pedestrians flowed around him.

Five minutes later, his phone rang again, disrupting the tranquility of the ride.

Matthew picked up his phone and on the other end was Inko Midoriya. A warm smile graced his face as he greeted her. "Hey, Inko."

Inko's voice carried a hint of excitement. "Matthew, hi ! I hope I'm not bothering you."

Matt's tone was reassuring. "Of course not, Inko. You know you can always call me. What can I do for you?"

Inko hesitated for a moment. "Well, I was wondering... if you might be available to prepare dinner and have it with Izuku and Rumi tonight ?"

A pleasant surprise washed over Matt. "Of course, Inko, I'd be happy to. Are you joining us as well?"

Inko let out a playful sigh, her voice laced with humor. "Matthew, are you trying to flirt with me again?"

Matt chuckled on the other end of the line. "I promise, Inko, no flirting this time. Just dinner."

Inko couldn't help but roll her eyes fondly at Matthew's playful banter. "Alright then, thank you, Matt. The key to the house is in your mailbox. I appreciate your help."

Matt's smile was evident in his voice. "Not a problem at all, Inko. I'll take care of everything. See you later."

Rumi's steps echoed through the house as she made her way toward the kitchen, a smile already forming on her face at the thought of a home-cooked meal. The savory aroma drifting from the kitchen intensified as she approached, and her anticipation grew.

"Mom, I'm here!" Rumi called out cheerfully, her voice echoing in the hallway.

Rumi entered the kitchen, the sight that greeted her was unexpected. There was Matthew, clad in an apron, expertly maneuvering through the kitchen, with Izuku at his side.

"Hey, Rumi! Welcome back!" Matt greeted her warmly, his easygoing smile evident even though Rumi chose to ignore him.

Undeterred, Izuku beamed at his sister. "Hey, Sis! Matt's been teaching me some amazing recipes. You won't believe what we're cooking tonight!"

Rumi, still maintaining her indifference toward Matthew, couldn't help but acknowledge her brother's excitement. She leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on Izuku's forehead. "That's great, Izuku. I'll be in the shower if you need me."

Izuku and Matthew shared a momentary glance. There was a subtle understanding between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the complexities surrounding Rumi's feelings toward their neighbor.

With a playful grin, Matthew broke the silence, "Your sister still hasn't warmed up to me, huh?"

Izuku shrugged, a knowing smile on his face. "She's a tough nut to crack but don't worry, I've seen her give a thumbs-up to a hero with way less charm than you."

Matthew chuckled at the reassurance, finding a peculiar comfort in Izuku's optimism. The conversation flowed seamlessly as Matt delved into a humorous anecdote about one of his past legal cases. The laughter echoed in the kitchen, creating an atmosphere that felt strangely familial.

As the spaghetti cooked to perfection, Matthew turned his attention back to Izuku. "Ever had Bolognese spaghetti before?" he asked.

Izuku scratched his head, pondering for a moment. "Once, I think. But not like this, I'm sure."

"Does your sister eat meat, considering she's got that rabbit physiology?" Matthew inquired, his attention focused on the simmering pot.

Izuku chuckled, "She's not a huge fan but she does eat meat in small quantities. She's more of a veggie person."

Nodding in understanding, Matthew continued with the cooking process, orchestrating the kitchen like a seasoned chef.

After about twenty minutes, Rumi emerged in comfortable home attire. It had been a rather disastrous day for her and the last thing she wanted was to deal with the neighbor. She headed to the living room, only to find Matthew and Izuku sharing hearty laughter. Matt got up and made his way to the kitchen, leaving the siblings alone.

Izuku greeted Rumi warmly, asking about her day. Mirko, the superhero herself, was about to respond when she was interrupted by the blind attorney, who arrived with the aroma of spaghetti Bolognese wafting through the air. Though Rumi wouldn't admit it, it smelled delicious. Matt carefully placed the spaghetti on the dining table. Izuku approached Rumi, encouraging her to join them for the meal. Rumi questioned the dish and Izuku explained they were having spaghetti Bolognese. Rumi took a seat and Matt passed her a plate.

Sitting down, Matt served Izuku first before turning to Rumi. He inquired if she was comfortable with eating meat, to which she nodded in agreement.

Matthew served Rumi and then himself. Izuku began to eat, following suit. Describing the spaghetti as good would be an insult and an understatement. Everything was cooked to perfection and Rumi couldn't believe her taste buds. She watched Izuku devour his plate and Matthew, with a teasing smile, asked how the food was. Izuku attempted to respond with his mouth full, eliciting laughter from Matt.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Matt chuckled, clearly satisfied with the reaction. Rumi couldn't deny the quality of the meal, even though she didn’t want to admit it.

"This makes no sense," Rumi exclaimed. She stood up, fixing her gaze on Matt. She demanded an explanation for how someone who was blind could cook so well, how he could manage to do all these things with limited vision. Rumi unleashed her frustration on Matthew, suggesting that he should have a guide dog with him at all times.

The room fell silent and Matt absorbed the barrage of questions and accusations.

After Rumi had vented her frustrations, she sank back into her seat. The weight of her words hung in the air and Matthew responded, his tone measured and calm. He asked if Rumi believed her little brother should be assisted all the time, prompting a puzzled expression from Rumi.

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused by Matt's question. Her anger had subsided momentarily, replaced by confusion.

Izuku, equally confused, joined the conversation, wanting to understand the point Matt was trying to make. As Matthew began his explanation, he delved deeper into the perception of people with disabilities in society.

"Do you believe people like me are fragile and should be protected?" Matt asked Rumi, his tone calm but carrying a weight of earnest curiosity.

Rumi chuckled, almost dismissively and retorted that Matt was an exceptional case. She expressed the opinion that those who weren't strong enough should let the more capable and stronger individuals handle the job. In her eyes, Matt was an anomaly, a unique circumstance and she emphasized that merely working hard wasn't sufficient. In ordinary circumstances, she added, he would just be an average blind person.

The living room hung heavy with the unresolved tension as Matt contemplated how to address the situation. However, before Matt could find the right words, Izuku abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor and rushed towards his room. Rumi, taken aback by her brother's sudden departure, called out, "Izuku?" The confusion in her voice echoed the bewildered expression on her face.

Matt, now standing, observed the unfolding scene. There was a moment of silence that stretched, filling the room with an uneasy atmosphere. Rumi, still seated, looked towards Matt for some explanation.

In a less amiable tone, Matt addressed Rumi, "If you could think as well as you fight, maybe you would understand why Izuku took your words so hard." His words were sharp, the weight of his disappointment apparent. With that, Matt made his way to the door, leaving Rumi alone in the living room.

Chapter Text

Rumi marched down the street, her ears twitching in irritation as she replayed the past few days in her mind. Frustration bubbled just beneath her skin, her steps heavy with annoyance.

Since that damn dinner with Matt and Izuku, everything had gone to hell. Izuku barely spoke to her anymore, avoiding her like she had the plague. His usual excited ramblings, his eager attempts to bond, his constant presence, all gone. He wouldn’t even look at her and as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had been on the receiving end of one of the worst scoldings of her life.

By Inko.

Rumi snorted bitterly, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. Her mother almost never got mad. She was patient, kind, warm a constant source of support. But when she get mad? It was like facing a hurricane in the form of a small, sweet looking woman. Rumi had expected some pushback, sure but not the sheer level of fury her mother had unleashed on her.

It was ridiculous.

She was 23 years old, a rising Pro Hero, already making a name for herself as Mirko. And yet, here she was punished.

Punished.

Like some kid.

The shame of it made her ears burn. Her mother’s words echoed in her head, sharp and cutting despite how soft spoken Inko usually was.

"You hurt your brother."

"Do you even understand what you've done?"

"I raised you better than this, Rumi."

Rumi exhaled sharply, trying to shake it off. It wasn’t her fault that some blind guy had thrown her off. Matt was weird. He was too smooth, too smart, too capable for someone who couldn’t see. It didn’t make sense and that frustrated her.

The moment Rumi pushed open the heavy glass doors of Power Up Gym, the familiar scent of sweat, metal and rubber mats filled her lungs. The place was buzzing with energy, grunts from lifters, the rhythmic clanking of weights and the steady thud of feet against treadmills. The first floor was massive, packed with rows of squat racks, dumbbells, cable machines and every kind of fitness equipment a pro or beginner could need.

Above her, a staircase led up to the second floor, a dedicated combat area. That was her favorite place. Boxing rings, open mat spaces, punching bags lined against the walls. It was where fighters came to spar, to test themselves. And right now, that was exactly what she needed.

A distraction.

She reached into her bag, pulling out her gym pass and swiped it against the scanner. A soft beep confirmed her entry.

“Yo, Mister Ohama,” she called out, forcing a bit of cheer into her voice.

Behind the reception desk, an older man in his late sixties looked up. His broad shoulders and muscular arms hinted at a lifetime of training but his kind smile and deep laugh lines softened his otherwise intimidating presence.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite up and coming Pro Hero,” Ohama chuckled, extending a fist.

Rumi grinned, bumping her knuckles against his.

“How’s my favorite rabbit doin’?” he asked, leaning forward on the counter. “You look like someone just made you do cardio on leg day.”

Rumi groaned dramatically, slumping against the counter. “You have no idea, old man.”

Ohama laughed, his deep voice carrying over the noise of the gym. “Oh, I think I got a little bit of an idea. Hero work getting rough?”

Rumi shook her head. “Hero work? Pfft. That’s the easy part. It’s my family that’s killin’ me.”

Ohama raised a brow. “What, your mom yell at you again?”

Rumi winced. “You say that like it’s a regular thing.”

He smirked. “Because it isn’t. Your mom’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. If she yelled at you, you really screwed up.”

Rumi exhaled loudly, rubbing her face. “Ugh, I know! And now Izuku won’t even talk to me.”

Ohama leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So what’d you do?”

Rumi puffed out her cheeks. “I might’ve been a little… judgmental about someone.”

Ohama tilted his head. “Lemme guess… this about that lawyer kid?”

Rumi blinked. “Wait, how do you know about him?”

Ohama snorted. “Your mom told me and I figured you two would butt heads eventually.”

Rumi scowled. “I don’t butt heads with him. He just… he’s weird, okay? He’s blind but he walks like he can see. He knows things he shouldn’t know. It’s like he’s got some kinda sixth sense or he was never blind!”

Ohama’s lips curled into a knowing grin. “And lemme guess, you said somethin’ dumb in front of your brother?”

Rumi groaned. “More like at dinner. And my brother and the blind dude heard everything.”

Ohama chuckled. “And now your little brother’s mad at you for being an ass?”

Rumi pouted. “I wasn’t an ass! I was just…”

The older man shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Rumi, listen to me. You’re a damn good fighter but you suck at admitting when you’re wrong.”

Rumi frowned. “I wasn’t wrong.”

Ohama sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. “You were. Look, I get it trusting people isn’t your strong suit. But you also gotta remember. Izuku looks up to you. If he’s mad at you, it’s not only just about what you said.”

Rumi’s ears twitched in irritation.

Ohama smirked. “You wanna fix this? Apologize to your brother and Murdock.”

Rumi crossed her arms. “I hate apologizing.”

“Yeah, well, I hate seeing you sulk,” Ohama shot back. “Life’s full of disappointments.”

Rumi let out a frustrated sigh, tapping her fingers against the counter.

Ohama gave her a knowing look. “Come on, kid. What’s worse sayin’ sorry or being on your mom’s bad side forever?”

Rumi groaned. “Ugh. Fine. I might apologize. But only if Izuku stops avoiding me first.”

Ohama rolled his eyes. “Yeah because that’s how apologies work.”

Rumi shot him a glare before sighing and stepping back. “Whatever. I’m gonna go train.”

Ohama chuckled. “Knock yourself out, kid. And don’t break anything this time.”

Rumi smirked. “No promises.”

She turned, heading toward the locker room but Ohama’s words lingered in her head.

Apologize.

Ugh.

This was going to suck.

Back at the gym 1st floor, Rumi went straight into her warm-up routine. Years of intense hero training taught her the importance of proper warm-ups, especially for her lower body. Her legs were her greatest weapons, and she treated them with the care they deserved. She worked through dynamic stretches, deep lunges, high knees, leg swings gradually increasing intensity.

As she moved through her drills, she noticed a few guys passing by, eyeing her a little too long. Some tried to flirt, throwing out cheesy one liners or flexing in her line of sight. Others were more subtle, stealing glances when they thought she wasn’t looking.

“Tch. Annoying”.

She shut them down without hesitation. A deadpan stare, a scoff or outright ignoring them was enough. She wasn’t here to entertain anyone.

Time passed and she finished the first block of her training, a brutal combination of machines and bodyweight exercises. Weighted squats, pistol squats, calf raises, explosive jumps she hit every muscle group with precision. Her body burned but it was the good kind of burn.

After an hour and a half, she was ready for the best part: punching the hell out of the heavy bag.

She walked over to the front desk, rolling her shoulders as she approached.

“So, how’s the training going, little lady?” Ohama asked, sipping from his drink.

Rumi smirked. “Not bad.”

With practiced ease, she snatched the drink right out of his hand and took a sip.

Ohama sputtered. “Hey!”

She licked her lips. Lemon tea. Not bad.

Ohama grumbled, crossing his arms. “You know, most people ask before stealing.”

Rumi just grinned. “Yeah? And?”

Rolling his eyes, he reached under the counter and pulled out another drink.

She stretched her arms. “I’m hitting the bag now. Get my usual set up.”

Ohama raised a brow. “The 600 pound bag? Already in use.”

Rumi froze. Seriously?

A growl rumbled in her throat.

Of course it was taken. Today was just that kind of day.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. Set up the 550 pound one.”

Ohama nodded, moving to prepare the bag while she made her way to the combat room.

The moment she stepped inside, she let out a breath.

The combat room was a completely different world from the rest of the gym. Unlike the machine filled first floor, this space was open raw. The entire floor was covered with firm mats and everyone inside was barefoot. Fighters moved across the room in fluid motions, practicing strikes, footwork and defense drills.

Equipment lined the walls wooden dummies, speed bags, sandbags for kicks and padded shields for partner training. The scent of sweat and focus filled the air, the occasional sharp thwack of a successful hit echoing through the space.

At the far end, two boxing rings stood side by side, waiting for those who wanted to spar.

Rumi smirked. Now this… this is where she belonged.

The rhythmic thwack of fists and shins slamming into heavy bags filled the room as Rumi walked. The air smelled of sweat and focus, bodies moving in precise, practiced motions. A group of men chatting nearby caught sight of her, their conversation briefly halting. She didn’t acknowledge them, didn’t even spare them a glance. Not worth her time.

Ohama walked in behind her, wheeling in the replacement bag.

“Sorry, kid. The 550 pound bag is trashed,” he said with a shrug.

Rumi’s ears twitched. “Trashed?” Her voice tightened with irritation.

“Yeah, some guy went too hard on it. Split straight through the middle.”

She exhaled sharply, arms crossing. Perfect. Just perfect. Today was already annoying enough.

Ohama didn’t linger on her frustration. He hooked up the 500-pound bag, securing it with practiced ease before stepping away.

Rumi rolled her shoulders, shaking off the lingering frustration. “Whatever. I’ll make it work.”

Without another word, she set into her stance and let loose.

Her fists met the bag with sharp, calculated force. She wasn’t just hitting, she was striking, turning every ounce of frustration into pure kinetic energy. Her kicks sent the bag swinging wildly, the chains above groaning under the strain.

But even as her body moved with precision, her mind wandered.

How do I even apologize?

Izuku wasn’t just her little brother, he was the person she cherished the most. She was proud of him, of everything he had become. And yet, somehow, she had hurt him. Deeply.

Damn it, Izuku…

Then, out of nowhere, the voices returned. Those voice who pray on her insecurities.

"You? A hero? Very funny."

"You’re just like your mom. A disappointment."

"Too muscular, not even feminine."

"A rabbit girl and a quirkless kid? Your mom should had aborted both of you"

Rumi’s next kick exploded into the bag, sending it reeling back with violent force. Her breathing was heavier now, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

The past was just that.

The past.

But some wounds never really healed.

A sudden, violent noise shattered the rhythm of the combat room.

BOOM!

The unmistakable sound of a heavy bag bursting open echoed through the space, interrupting Rumi’s thoughts mid strike. Sand spilled onto the mats, the bag swinging uselessly from its chains.

The room fell silent.

Rumi’s ears twitched. She knew that sound. Someone had just obliterated a punching bag.

The group of guys she had ignored earlier all turned, muttering among themselves, their attention locked on the cause of the destruction.

Rumi followed their gazes, her sharp eyes landing on a tall, lean figure standing near the remains of the bag.

Reddish hair. Broad shoulders. Hands raised slightly, like he hadn’t meant to do that.

Her stomach dropped.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake."

She sighed, rubbing her temples. Of all the people in this damn city, it had to be him.

Matthew Murdock.

Blind, brilliant, infuriatingly perceptive Matthew Murdock.

Since when this idiot was there and how the hell he was 

He stood there, looking casually apologetic as if this was just another normal inconvenience. The guys nearby didn’t know what to make of him. Some whispered in confusion, how the hell did a blind guy do that? while others just stared.

Matt, to his credit, remained unbothered. He tilted his head slightly, listening to the murmurs, then scratched the back of his neck.

"Uh… sorry about that," he said, voice calm and light. "Guess I miscalculated."

Rumi rolled her eyes. Miscalculated, my ass.

She clenched her fists. Today was already a disaster, and now this? Damn it.

And the worse was the fact that she had to apologize to him too.

She exhaled sharply, shaking out her hands. Fine. She’d do it. But not because of Matt. Just for Mom and Izuku. Yeah. That’s all.

She stomped forward.

Matt reached up, removing the destroyed bag from its hook with ease. He let it drop with a dull thud, sand spilling from the massive tear. Even without looking at him, Rumi could tell he wasn’t fazed in the slightest.

She walked up beside him, arms crossed. “We should call the owner and get rid of this.”

Matt nodded. “Agreed.”

Rumi turned on her heel and went to find Ohama. Five minutes later, she was back with the old man in tow.

Ohama took one look at the ruined bag and let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Matt adjusted his sunglasses. “I’ll cover the cost of a new one.”

Ohama waved a hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it, kid. Honestly, I’m more impressed than mad.” He crossed his arms, looking Matt up and down. “Not a lot of people can break a bag over 300 pounds, let alone one this heavy.”

Matt smiled, modest as always. “I got lucky.”

Ohama snorted. “Yeah, sure and I’m the damn Number One Hero.” He turned and motioned for the staff to clean up the mess.

Matt stretched his arms. “I’m done for today anyway.”

Rumi swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. This was her chance. She needed to say something.

But, of course, Matt beat her to it.

“Let’s talk somewhere more private,” he said, adjusting his sunglasses.

Rumi exhaled through her nose, giving a short nod before heading to the locker room to change.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a fast-food joint, tucked into a corner booth. The place wasn’t crowded just a few salarymen grabbing meals and some students chatting over fries.

Rumi silently munched on her burger, eyes downcast.

Matt as always was perfectly at ease, sipping his drink. He could tell she was hesitating.

She tapped her fingers against the table. Once. Twice.

“Just say it. Just say it and get it over with”.

She opened her mouth then immediately stuffed a fry in it instead.

Matt chuckled. “You need help or something?”

“Shut up.”

Silence again.

Rumi exhaled sharply. “Okay, fine,” she finally muttered. “I think I said some not cool things.”

She didn’t look at him. Instead, she lowered her ears slightly, her body language betraying the shame she felt. She placed her burger down for a moment, rolling her shoulders.

She was awful at apologizing. She knew that. Taking responsibility when she was wrong had never been her strong suit. She was used to fighting problems, not talking through them.

But she had to be an adult.

She clenched her fists, then sighed.

“…So I’m sorry.”

Matt didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply let the words settle.

Rumi shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

She wanted Matt to say something anything but he just sat there, calmly drinking his damn soda like they were discussing the weather.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he set his drink down and turned his head toward her. His red tinted glasses reflected the restaurant lights, making it impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking.

Then, in the most calm, matter of fact voice, he said

"Did you even try to think before talking?"

Rumi stiffened. "Excuse me?"

Matt didn’t flinch. "Because any reasonable person wouldn’t have said something like that."

Rumi scowled. "Hey, that’s rude."

Matt let out a low, ironic chuckle. "I don’t care."

Rumi groaned

Matt tapped his fingers against the table, expression unreadable.

“So… did you actually apologize to Izuku?”

Rumi tensed. She didn’t say anything but her face said everything.

Matt sighed, shaking his head. “Prideful to the end.”

“I mean… I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered, ears twitching slightly.

Matt leaned back, crossing his arms. “Didn’t mean it like what?”

Rumi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t think it would hit him that hard.”

Matt exhaled as he stood, stretching his arms above his head. His joints gave a quiet pop and he rolled his shoulders before adjusting his jacket.

Rumi watched him, her fingers drumming against the table in frustration.

“Alright,” Matt said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Just so we’re clear… I’m not the type to hold grudges.”

Rumi raised a brow. “Oh? Could’ve fooled me.”

Matt smirked. “That’s just me being honest. But until you and Izuku actually talk, don’t expect me to be all buddy-buddy with you… oh and I don't accept your apologize”

Rumi groaned, leaning back in her seat. “Ugh, you’re really making this a thing, huh?”

Matt nodded. “Absolutely.”

She exhaled sharply, ears twitching. “Okay and how exactly am I supposed to do this? You know I suck at this kind of thing.”

Matt turned his head slightly toward her, lips quirking. “Easy, be an adult… figure it out.”

Rumi scowled. “That’s not helpful.”

Matt just shrugged. “Not my problem, Bunny.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Call me that againband I will kick your ass.”

Matt chuckled. “Sure you will.”

Rumi growled under her breath as Matt took a step away from the table. “You’re really just gonna leave me with that?”

Matt tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider. “Yep.”

“You suck,” Rumi muttered.

Matt chuckled, walking toward the door. “So I’ve been told.”

Just as he reached for the handle of the restaurant door, Rumi exhaled, shaking her head. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.

Matt, of course, heard it.

He grinned, barely holding back another laugh. Without turning around, he casually threw a hand up in a lazy wave.

“Love you too, Bunny.”

Rumi’s ears twitched violently.

“Fuck off, Murdock.”

Matt chuckled again, pushing the door open and stepping out into the street, disappearing into the city with his usual effortless ease.

Rumi groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

“Great,” she muttered. “Now I really have to do this.”

Chapter Text

Rumi adjusted a few stray strands of her hair, frowning at her reflection. Alright, deep breath. You can do this.

From the other side of the door, Izuku called out, “Rumi, are you done? We have to go.”

“Yeah, yeah, gimme a sec,” she replied, giving herself one last once over. Satisfied, she threw open the door and struck a pose, hands on her hips, grinning. “So? What do you think?”

Izuku blinked at her, his expression neutral. “It looks good on you.”

Rumi frowned. His words were fine but something was off. He didn’t smile, didn’t give that usual spark of admiration in his voice. It was flat, disconnected.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Hey… you good?”

Izuku nodded quickly, a little too quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Rumi stood frozen for a second before sighing, running a hand down her face. Great job, Rumi. Real great.

She followed him out, her steps heavy. “God I really screwed up, huh?”

“Mom, I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” Rumi groaned, crossing her arms.

Her mother, however, was unimpressed. Inko’s sharp gaze locked onto her daughter. “I want your word, Rumi.”

Rumi huffed. “You have my word, Mom.”

And just like that, the Midoriya family stood in front of Matthew Murdock’s Home. Rumi didn’t want to be here but her mother had a way of making things happen. She had no choice but to tag along.

Izuku remained silent, distant. He barely even acknowledged her. Inko, sensing the tension, adjusted his collar and gave him a small pat. Then, she turned toward Rumi, sighing. If only her daughter would make a little effort…

With a deep breath, Inko knocked on the door.

After a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing their host. Dressed in casual but well-coordinated clothes, Matthew Murdock’s ever-present smirk widened.

“The Midoriya family!” he announced, his tone warm and inviting. “Come in, come in! Dinner’s almost ready.”

He stepped aside, allowing Rumi to walk in first followed by Inko and lastly Izuku. The aroma of garlic and fresh herbs filled the air.

Matt tapped his cane lightly against the floor, making his way toward Izuku. Then with an easy grin, he draped an arm around the younger Midoriya’s shoulders.

“Guess whose autograph I got today?” Matt asked, his voice teasing.

Izuku’s eyes widened. His entire posture shifted, excitement sparking in his expression. “Wait… really? Who… no, let me guess-”

And just like that, he started muttering, rapidly listing possibilities in a frenzy of excitement.

Matt chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Easy, champ, easy.”

Izuku cut himself off, cheeks heating up but the small, genuine smile didn’t leave his face.

Rumi, watching from the side, felt a pang of something unfamiliar in her chest.

Her brother used to smile like that when he looked at her.

But now? He barely even glanced her way.

Izuku was the first to take a seat, settling beside Matthew chair. Rumi hesitated for a fraction of a second before sitting across from them, while Inko took her spot next to her daughter.

The atmosphere was warm, filled with the rich aroma of the meal Matt had prepared. For a moment, everything seemed… normal.

Matt, who had just set down a few last items on the table, turned slightly toward Inko. “How was your week, Miss Midoriya?”

That was all it took.

Inko launched into an energetic vent about her work, her neighbors and the outrageous price of fresh produce these days.

Rumi rolled her eyes. Here we go.

Izuku chuckled softly beside Matt, fully aware of how difficult it was to stop their mother once she got going.

Matt for his part, didn’t seem bothered. He nodded along at appropriate intervals, giving the occasional “Oh?” or “No way,” as he carried dishes from the counter to the table.

Rumi leaned back slightly, arms crossed, watching as Matt moved with an ease that didn’t match someone who was blind. His steps were light, precise. He barely hesitated when reaching for utensils, moving around obstacles as if he had seen them before they even existed.

Izuku’s eyes flicked upward suddenly.

Rumi followed his gaze and saw it.

A drinking glass, sitting at the edge of the top shelf, barely hanging on. One slight vibration and it would fall.

Izuku opened his mouth, about to warn him.

But before he could, Matt with his back turned, reached up and caught the glass mid-fall.

Rumi blinked.

Izuku froze.

Matt hummed, as if nothing happened, placing the glass on the counter like it hadn’t just defied gravity and common sense.

“…Okay,” Rumi thought, her brows furrowing. That was weird.

She didn’t believe in coincidences and that? That wasn’t just luck.

Matt turned back to the table, an easygoing smile still in place.

Izuku, who was usually quick to brush off strange things, now glanced at Matt with barely hidden curiosity. Rumi, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes slightly, analyzing him.

She knew quirks. She knew how people with extrasensory abilities moved. Matt claimed his quirk was a localized detection field, something that allowed him to map out things he touched.

But that glass? He hadn’t touched it.

He shouldn’t have known it was falling.

Matt sat down, clearly unfazed by the shift in their stares. Either he was oblivious or he was a damn good liar.

Rumi wasn’t sure which.

"I’m not imagining things… he really caught that glass without seeing it," Rumi thought again, still trying to make sense of what she had witnessed.

Matt, meanwhile was completely unfazed. He set the plates and utensils on the table with casual ease before heading back to the kitchen.

“I also made steak and lasagna with meat and vegetarian options,” Matt announced. Then, turning his head slightly toward Izuku, he added, “Hey, Izuku, can you help me grab the drinks from the fridge?”

Izuku nodded quickly and followed him.

While they were gone, Inko turned toward Matt’s seat, smiling warmly. “And how was your week, Matthew?”

Matt returned a wide grin putting the lasagnas down then he sat back down. “Where do I even start…” he said, reaching for a slice of lasagna.

As always, the moment he spoke, all attention naturally shifted toward him. Being a lawyer meant being a good speaker and Matt was no exception.

He began recounting his week, mentioning his visits to several pro hero agencies, the legal work he had been handling and the most exciting news: He was invited to an upcoming dinner with the president of the Hero Association and some high ranking officials.

Izuku’s eyes went wide with admiration, his entire demeanor lighting up. His mumbling started immediately, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

Matt chuckled, clearly entertained. “Breathe, champ. You’re gonna run out of air.”

Izuku, flustered, quickly shut his mouth and focused on his plate.

Rumi, however, remained quiet. She wasn’t as easily distracted.

While Matt talked, she studied him carefully, her sharp eyes tracing his movements, his posture, the way he subtly turned his head in the direction of sounds before they fully happened.

There’s something not right about him.

Under the table, she suddenly felt a light thud against her knee.

She flinched slightly, looking toward her mother, who was watching her with a warning glance.

“Cut it out.”

Rumi frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a large portion of steak and began cutting into it aggressively.

Matt, as if sensing the shift in energy, subtly turned toward her.

“I thought you were vegetarian because of your physiology,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised.

Rumi’s grip on her fork tightened slightly.

“I love meat,” she shot back, her tone a little sharper than necessary.

Matt raised an eyebrow but a small smirk played on his lips.

Rumi mentally rolled her eyes. Hypocrite.

She wasn’t going to let this go. Not yet.

Izuku reaches to take a slice of the vegetarian lasagna, carefully placing it on his plate.

“ by the way I got it,” Matt said, this time directing his voice toward Izuku. A teasing grin tugged at his lips. “I got Miss Joke’s autograph.”

Izuku nearly dropped his fork. “Really?!” he burst out, eyes shining.

Inko chuckled at her son’s reaction, her soft laughter filling the room.

Across the table, Rumi watched, lips pressing into a thin line. Of course he did. Matt had an annoying habit of making people around him light up and Izuku was no exception. She could see the pure excitement in her brother’s face, his expression completely unguarded.

Then almost instinctively, she bit her lip.

A part of her still hated that she had been the one to take that same joy off his face earlier.

Matt’s voice cut through her thoughts. “How was your day, Rumi?”

She blinked, surprised for a moment before quickly masking it.

It wasn’t like Matt to ask about her unless necessary.

Her gaze flicked around the table. Inko was watching her expectantly, no doubt pleased that Matt was trying to be polite. Matt himself had an easy expression, but she could tell he was at least a little curious.

And Izuku…

He wasn’t looking at her.

Rumi exhaled shortly. “Nothing much,” she said, shrugging.

Matt tilted his head slightly, as if considering her answer. He didn’t push further, though, simply nodding and returning to his meal.

The sound of clinking utensils and quiet chewing filled the dining room, the only noise breaking the stillness. The warmth of the meal did little to push away the sudden heaviness that clung to the air.

Then, Izuku spoke.

“Matt.”

The soft call of his name made Matthew pause mid-cut, his knife still pressing into the steak.

“Yep, that’s me,” Matt answered with his usual easy smile.

Izuku hesitated for a moment before asking, “Why did you become a lawyer?”

Matt froze.

The question hung in the air, innocent and curious but to him, it was a blade slicing through carefully built walls.

For the others, only a handful of seconds passed. But for Matt, time stretched, pulling him backward. Back to memories buried deep beneath his skin.

The day his mother left.

The accident that stole his sight.

“Matt?”

The torment he endured at school.

His father, the strongest man he had ever known, encouraging him.

“Matt?”

And then, his father’s funeral.

A voice cut through the spiraling recollections.

“Matt?” Inko’s gentle concern reached him. “You’ve been quiet for a good 5 min.”

He inhaled sharply, pulling himself back to the present. “Sorry.”

It was a small word but everyone at the table noticed the change in his voice. The usual warmth and playfulness were gone, replaced by something distant, something weighted.

Matt could feel their eyes on him, waiting. Izuku shifted uncomfortably, already regretting asking, ready to take it back.

But Matt spoke first.

“My father was a boxer.” His voice was steady but there was an undeniable edge beneath it.

He placed his knife down, fingers pressing lightly against the table as he continued. “His quirk let him take a lot of hits but he wasn’t great at winning.” A small chuckle left him but it lacked humor.

He explained how his father fought in small amateur boxing leagues, scraping by to pay rent and send Matt to school. The fights were brutal and the money was never enough. But it was honest.

Then came the offer.

A group of men, powerful and wealthy, had approached his father with a proposition: Lose the match on purpose, fall in the first round and in return they’d triple his earnings.

Matt’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “He said yes.”

Rumi blinked, surprised. She had expected some grand story about his father refusing to give in. But Matt wasn’t done.

“The night of the fight, he changed his mind… for me, he call one of his buddies telling him to put everything on his win by K.O. in the first round and put the winning money in my bank account”

The table was silent. Even Izuku, who was normally filled with endless questions, didn’t say a word.

“He won.” Matt exhaled slowly. “And two hours later, they found his body in an alley. Five bullets in his body… I was there”

Silence.

Matt realized he had spoken too much.

He had never meant to share this, not here, not now. But Izuku had asked and for some reason, he had answered.

Inko’s eyes shone with quiet sympathy, her hands lightly gripping her napkin. Rumi, for once, said nothing. Even she wasn’t going to make some quip after that.

The weight of Matt’s words still lingered in the air. A part of him regretted sharing so much, he had let his guard down, let the past slip through the cracks. He wasn’t supposed to do that.

Everyone at the table sat in stunned silence. Even Rumi, who usually had some sharp remark locked and loaded for Matthew, had nothing to say.

Matt let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. “I, uh… I apologize for the trauma dump… it was dumb”

He smirked slightly, trying to lighten the mood but his voice carried something fragile beneath it.

The meal resumed, though with a newfound stillness. The clinking of utensils against plates filled the space where words once did. Inko took careful, quiet bites. Izuku, usually buzzing with energy, ate slower than usual, occasionally glancing at Matt.

And Rumi… well, Rumi just observed.

She had expected a cocky, charming, maybe even exaggerated story from him. Not this. Not something so painfully real.

She hated to admit it but it made her uneasy. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this.

Unguarded. Vulnerable.

After a while, Izuku finally spoke, his voice soft but certain.

“You’re brave.”

Matt paused, blinking behind his red glasses. Then, he let out a small breath, his lips curving into a genuine smile. He reached over, ruffling Izuku’s messy green hair.

“Thanks, Izuku.”

Inko placed a gentle hand over Matt’s. A silent gesture of comfort. No words needed.

“I… I ruined dinner, didn’t I?” Matt sighed, shaking his head.

“No, no,” Inko reassured him quickly, offering a warm smile. “It’s okay. Really.”

“She’s right,” Izuku added, nodding enthusiastically. “You can stop if you want.”

Matt hesitated for a moment but eventually leaned back slightly, folding his arms.

“I can continue is okay…” His tone was lighter but there was still an underlying edge to his voice.

“So, the police eventually caught the guys responsible,” he continued, his expression unreadable. “They went to trial. There was a judge. There was evidence. Open and shut case, right?”

Izuku’s eyes widened with hope.

Matt’s smirk faded.

“They were acquitted.”

The words landed like a stone in the middle of the table.

Izuku’s face fell.

Inko let out a quiet sigh, as if she had expected it but still wished the story had ended differently.

Rumi tightened her grip on her fork.

Of course. The justice system was broken. Corrupt. Especially when money was involved. She had seen it before.

Matt simply shrugged, taking another bite of his steak as if the revelation meant nothing to him.

But it did.

It meant everything.

No one knew what to say.

So they said nothing.

They ate.

The lasagna was rich, flavorful. The steak was cooked perfectly. The meal was damn good, even Rumi couldn’t deny that (not that she’d ever admit it out loud).

And for a while, they let the silence be enough.

“By the way,” Matt said casually, pushing back from the table, “I have dessert.”

He stood up, gathering the empty plates with ease. He didn’t fumble once as he carried the plates toward the sink.

“I know that using my disability to guilt-trip people into giving me extra food is ethically questionable,” he added with a smirk, “but technically, not illegal.”

Rumi rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull.

Izuku, however, perked up at the mention of dessert. “What kind of dessert?”

Matt turned his head toward them, his smirk widening. “Oh, you know. Just a few things.”

Matt wiped his hands on a kitchen towel before reaching into the fridge. “So, let’s see… We’ve got yatsuhashi, some fresh dorayaki, warabi mochi and even a whole set of premium wagashi from Kyoto.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped. Inko covered her mouth in surprise. Even Rumi had to pause for a second.

These weren’t just any desserts. They were expensive, high-end, the kind of traditional sweets you’d only get at a luxury confectionery shop in Ginza or Kyoto.

“…How the hell did you even get those?” Rumi asked, eyes narrowing.

Matt leaned against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “Let’s just say I’m very, very good at negotiations.”

Rumi scoffed. “You mean lying and playing the poor blind victim card?”

“Rumi,” Inko sighed, already tired.

Matt chuckled. “Hey, you make it sound so cheap.” He adjusted his red-tinted glasses. “It’s not a lie if I simply allow people to assume things on their own.”

Rumi crossed her arms. “So what, you just showed up and made them feel bad for you?”

“Not at all,” Matt grinned. “I merely mentioned that I was a blind, hard working lawyer and they decided I deserved a little extra.”

“You manipulated them.”

“I negotiated,” Matt corrected smoothly, stepping toward the fridge. “Which, I should remind you, is an actual skill.” He grabbed a dorayaki and took a slow, deliberate bite. “Much more effective than you know… trying to fight people when things don’t go your way.”

Rumi scowled, muttering something about wanting to strangle him.

Matt of course, heard it. And chuckled.

Matt placed the beautifully arranged desserts on the table with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, dig in. And hey, Rumi, Izuku, you guys can take some home if you want,” he said, gesturing toward the assortment. “I like my sweets but there’s way too much for just one person.”

Izuku’s eyes sparkled. “Are you sure? These look really expensive!”

Matt grinned. “Absolutely. Consider it my way of making sure you don’t think I’m completely insufferable.”

“You are completely insufferable,” Rumi deadpanned, already reaching for a dorayaki.

“See? That hurts,” Matt said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense.

Before Rumi could come up with a sharper retort, Inko, who had been silently eyeing the desserts, finally spoke up. “Matthew,” she said sweetly, “would it be alright if I took just a little for later?”

Rumi and Izuku immediately exchanged a look. They knew their mother far too well.

“‘Just a little’?” Rumi muttered under her breath.

“She’s gonna take everything,” Izuku whispered back.

Hearing their whispers, Inko pouted, crossing her arms. “What’s your problem?” she huffed.

Matt chuckled, amused at the silent battle unfolding before him. “Take as much as you want, Inko. No need to be shy.”

That was all the permission she needed. Inko quickly set aside a generous selection of sweets, humming happily to herself while Rumi and Izuku sighed in defeat.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly with casual conversation filling the room. Eventually, the meal came to an end and Matt escorted the Midoriyas to the door.

“Thanks again for everything, Matt,” Inko said, practically bouncing with happiness. “The food, the company and the desserts! You’re too generous.”

Izuku, still clutching his precious Miss Joke autograph, beamed. “Yeah! This was awesome. Thanks for the autograph too!”

Matt smirked. “Oh, don’t thank me completely for that…” He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “Rumi was the one who had the idea of the autograph and sweets.”

Silence.

The entire Midoriya family turned to stare at Rumi.

Rumi blinked. “What?”

Izuku’s jaw dropped. “You did?”

“I— No, I didn’t—” Rumi started but Matt was already closing the door.

“Of course she did… anyways, catch you guys later. Get home safe.”

Before she could protest further, Matt suddenly grabbed her arm, leaning in just enough to whisper, “Don’t wait for the perfect moment.”

And then the door clicked shut.

Rumi stood frozen for half a second before shaking herself out of it. Scowling, she hurried after her mother and brother, who were already making their way down the street.

The walk home was quiet… too quiet.

Izuku walked ahead, clutching the autograph like it was the most precious thing in the world, while Inko hummed softly, carrying the desserts Matt had given them. Rumi, however, lagged behind, staring at the ground, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

This was stupid. She could still feel the weight of Matt’s words.  “Don’t wait for the perfect moment”. What did that even mean? She didn’t need a “moment.” She just needed to-

She exhaled sharply.

“Wait.”

Izuku and Inko stopped, turning to look at her.

“What is it, Rumi?” Inko asked, concern in her voice.

Rumi looked directly at Izuku, her ears flattening slightly in discomfort. “I, uh… I need to say something.”

Izuku blinked. “Okay…?”

Rumi crossed her arms and looked away, ears twitching. “I… I was a real ass to you the other day Izuku.”

Izuku’s expression remained unreadable.

Rumi swallowed. “What I said about blind people and quirkless people being useless… I didn’t mean it like that. I was frustrated and I said something really, really stupid.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re less than anyone else. You’re not. You’re-” she exhaled through her nose, “one of the clever people I know, okay?”

Izuku’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want you thinking I look down on you,” she continued, shifting uncomfortably. “I was just being an idiot. And I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Izuku studied her for a long moment before his face softened. Then, to her shock, he suddenly stepped forward and hugged her.

“…You mean it?” he asked quietly.

Rumi hesitated for only a second before hugging him back, squeezing him tightly. “Yeah, dummy. I do.”

She felt another pair of arms wrap around them, Inko had joined in, sniffling.

“My babies!” she cried.

“Mom!?” Rumi started only for Inko to tighten her grip.

“Nope! I’m staying right here,” she declared.

Izuku chuckled and Rumi sighed, shaking her head.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, Matt sat on his couch, a cup of tea in hand, listening to the scene unfold with a small, content smile.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself, exhaling through his nose. “Guess she’s not a complete moron.”

Rumi had managed to inch him up slightly in her esteem.

From really weird neighbor to just weird neighbor.

Progress.

Chapter Text

Matthew Murdock sat alone in his quiet apartment, the faint hum of the city beyond his window filling the space. The scent of fresh paper and ink still lingered in the air from his earlier work, though his office was already meticulously arranged. His fingers traced the edges of the desk before he turned away, his mind drifting to the events of the day.

It had been a routine day, nothing extraordinary. He had spent his morning visiting high schools and universities, giving lectures on heroism from a legal perspective. His afternoons were spent in middle schools, explaining the role of a lawyer to young, eager minds. He enjoyed these interactions, they reminded him why he fought so hard for justice, both in and out of the courtroom.

Now, as he checked the time, he realized it was already 8 PM. Time had a way of slipping past unnoticed when he kept himself busy. He let out a small chuckle. Another ordinary day.

Turning his attention to his laptop, he opened his email, his fingers moving deftly over the keyboard. No new urgent messages. He had finished his work for the week: Reports filed, cases reviewed, clients responded to.

A rare occurrence.

With a sigh, he shut the device and leaned back in his chair, listening to the stillness around him. His apartment was tidy, just as he preferred. Even without sight, he maintained order, ensuring everything was in its proper place. His fingers brushed against a stray legal pad, which he promptly straightened before standing up.

Making his way to the kitchen, he reached for the fridge, pulling it open with practiced ease. The cool air hit his skin as he felt around for something to drink. His hand found a pitcher of water. He poured himself a glass, the sound of liquid filling the cup breaking the silence.

He took a sip, letting the coolness settle in his throat, then exhaled slowly. What now? He had nothing left to do. No pending cases, no last minute emails, no unfinished business.

For someone like Matt, idleness felt foreign. He thrived in motion, in action. Whether arguing in court or fighting in the streets, there was always something demanding his attention. But now?

He sighed again, walking back to his couch and sinking into it. The cushions conformed to his frame as he leaned his head back, letting the day’s exhaustion finally catch up to him.

Matt let his eyes close, letting the silence settle around him. But quiet never lasted long, not in his mind, not in his senses. It took only a second for the past memories to creep in, as if they had been waiting for him to lower his defenses.

Daredevil.

His double life. The nights spent fighting crime, the endless battles against injustice. The bruises, the broken ribs, the moments of triumph and failure. The laughter of the other vigilante, the one in red and blue, cracking jokes even as they dodged blows, their conversations shifting from strategy to absurdity in the span of minutes.

And then, the fire.

Matt saw it again. The orphanage, engulfed in flames. The thick, choking smoke filled his lungs, the heat pressing against his skin. He could still hear the screams, the children’s desperate cries for help. His senses overwhelmed him, replaying the moment as if he were trapped in it again.

A child's small, trembling hand in his own. The raw fear in their voice.

Then the accusations.

"My kid died because of you!"

"It's your fault!"

"Help my kid please!”

"There’s a person here!”

He had heard it through the chaos, cutting through the crackling flames and the sirens in the distance. He had saved as many as he could, but it hadn't been enough. The guilt, like the smell of burnt wood and blood, never truly faded.

The weight of a lifeless body in his arms. The wet, sticky warmth of blood on his hands.

He inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. His heart pounded, his muscles tense.

09:45 PM.

Matt exhaled long and slow. Of course, tonight would be the night his body decided to let him rest early. The one night he had no pressing obligations, no immediate responsibilities. But instead of peace, his mind dragged him back to the things he wanted to forget. The sounds, the scents, the sensations, he would erase them if he could.

But he couldn't.

Matt got up from the couch, stretching his stiff muscles before heading to his bedroom.

In his bedroom,, he peeled off his shirt and pants, replacing them with a loose, comfortable pair of sweats and a soft T-shirt. Without hesitation, he flopped onto the bed, exhaling slowly as he let his body sink into the mattress.

“Just sleep, Murdock. Close your eyes. Breathe.”

Two minutes passed. Then five. Then fifteen.

Thirty.

One hour.

Matt groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Frustration settled deep in his chest. He was determined to sleep tonight, no matter what. First, he tried meditation, focusing on his breathing, counting each inhale and exhale. It worked for about thirty seconds before his mind wandered.

Next, shadowboxing. Maybe exhausting himself physically would work. He threw a few controlled punches in the air, his movements fluid but after ten minutes, he felt more awake than ever.

“Great, now I’m warmed up and still wide awake,” he muttered.

Maybe reading would help.

He ran his fingers over the Braille on the spine of a book and sat down to read. The words blurred together in his mind. After a few pages, he gave up, tossing the book aside.

Maybe he should call Foggy. But checking the time, he realized it was past noon in New York. Foggy was probably out, handling cases or stuffing his face with some overpriced sandwich from a food truck.

Matt exhaled and tilted his head toward the nightstand. Maybe just a drink? The thought lingered for a second before he shook it off. That wasn’t the answer. Not tonight.

He needed fresh air.

Matt pushed himself off the bed and walked to his closet. His super senses immediately picked up on something familiar. The faint scent of leather, metal and blood. His hand instinctively reached for it, fingers grazing the material.

His suit.

Bright red.

The devil of Hell’s Kitchen, hanging in the back of his closet like a ghost of the past.

For a brief second, he considered it. The adrenaline, the rush, the sense of purpose that came with wearing that suit. The streets of Tokyo weren’t his but crime didn’t exactly care about borders.

Matt clenched his jaw and pulled his hand away, cursing himself under his breath.

“No.” His voice was firm, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

He had left that life behind. He wasn’t Daredevil anymore.

Matt turned away and went back to bed. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep. Seconds passed. Then minutes.

His eyes opened again.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips.

Maybe sleep just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Or rather, rest wasn’t.

Sighing, he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. His head turned toward the closet again. His suit still hung there, untouched. His past, waiting.

Matt exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re an idiot, Murdock.”

Pushing himself off the bed, he reached for something else, something far less dangerous or noticeable. A simple black outfit, loose and unassuming. He wrapped a scarf around his eyes, securing it in place. He bend down reaching for his billy club.

“Alright Matt,” he muttered. “Remember, this isn’t hero work. You’re just going out for some exercise. That’s it.”

He smirked.

“It’s been months since you’ve done any real exercise, anyway.”

Matt slipped out of his room window with practiced ease, crawling towards the rooftop. The night air was crisp, a slight breeze brushing against his skin. His senses stretched outward, the faint hum of neon signs, the quiet murmurs of distant conversations, the rhythmic pulsing of hundreds of heartbeats.

Then, he moved.

His body reacted instinctively, muscle memory guiding him as he leapt from one rooftop to the next. His feet barely touched the edge before he propelled himself forward again, rolling seamlessly into a landing. The sensation was intoxicating. His usual life was burdened with rules, responsibilities, expectations. But up here, in the air, he was free.

“Yeah, I’m probably going to regret this later.”

But right now?

He was going to enjoy every damn second of it.

Matt’s movements were precise, flowing from rooftop to rooftop with a grace that belied his supposed blindness. His billy clubs snapped into position as he swung forward, using the momentum to launch himself across wider gaps. The city stretched beneath him, Tokyo’s glowing skyline reflecting off the windows of towering buildings. He felt his heartbeat sync with the rhythm of his movements, the steady thrum of life beneath him providing an odd sense of peace.

“This,” he muttered to himself between jumps, “might be the best therapy in the world.”

He exhaled through his nose, focusing. His senses expanded, scanning the city as he continued his path.

A police car rolled into a nearby station, the officers inside discussing their kids and weekend plans. A father down the street spoke excitedly to his wife about a long-overdue raise. A group of students laughed over late-night ramen, their voices carrying on the wind.

Compared to New York, Tokyo at night was quiet. Peaceful.

And more importantly… the garbage smell wasn’t nearly as offensive.

“Maybe I could get used to this.”

As that thought crossed his mind, something caught his attention.

A heartbeat.

Small, rapid, less than 10 meters away. Definitely not human, too small. His nose twitched at the faint scent of fish and fur.

He smirked.

“Oh no. Looks like we got a damsel in distress.”

Matt adjusted his path, landing smoothly near a chimney. He crouched down, tilting his head toward the narrow space.

“Alright, buddy” he paused, listening more carefully. “No, not a “buddy”… you are a female,” he corrected with a smile.

He reached inside, carefully maneuvering around the bricks. The cat let out a startled meow, her heartbeat spiking but Matt remained patient.

“I got you,” he reassured, gently pulling her out. The moment she was free, she gave a loud, dramatic huff before licking his face in what he assumed was gratitude.

Matt chuckled. “Guess that makes one thing the webhead and I have in common… female cats truly love us”

He set her down, checking for any signs of injury. Nothing. She stretched lazily before trotting off, her tail flicking behind her.

“Stay out of trouble, alright?”

Not waiting for an answer because, well… she was a cat. Matt launched himself forward once more, continuing his nighttime run.

He let himself move without thinking, just feeling.

Just being.

Eventually, he stopped, perching on the ledge of a high-rise building. His head tilted slightly as he caught an odd sensation, two heartbeats, steady but fast, close by, very close.

He turned his head.

Behind the glass of a nearby apartment window, two kids, no older than seven stared at him, wide eyed and frozen.

Matt blinked.

The silence stretched.

Then, he lifted a hand and gave them a small wave.

The kids slowly lifted their hands and waved back, still too stunned to react properly.

Matt grinned. Then, without another word, he leapt away

The night was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Matt should have known better.

Nothing ever stayed that way.

Ever.

He stop,, his senses flared, picking up the sound of rapid footsteps, four people, three chasing one. His head turned slightly, honing in on the sounds. A woman. Her breathing was shallow, her heartbeat erratic. She was injured, light wounds, bruises likely from being shoved around.

Then, she screamed for help.

Matt tensed, every fiber of his being demanding that he move.

But he hesitated.

“You didn’t come to Japan for this”

This wasn’t his fight. There were Pro Heroes for this kind of thing. He had told himself that when he left New York.

“You’re just here to clear your head, Murdock.”

And yet…

His senses stretched out further.

Nothing.

No heroes nearby. No patrols. No sirens.

No one is coming to help her.

His fists clenched.

“Come on, Matt, you gotta go.”

“No, this isn’t my problem. You don’t do this anymore.”

“There’s no one else within 600 meters.”

His jaw tightened.

Then, he heard it, her voice, whispering desperately through her ragged breaths.

She was praying.

“P-Please, God, protect me. Please, don’t let t-”

Matt’s blood ran cold.

The men had caught up to her.

“Come on, sweetheart,” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Matt could hear the woman’s frantic movements, her feet scraping against the pavement, her breath hitching in her throat.

“You didn’t pay us, remember?” The man’s tone darkened. “We’re here to collect.”

That was it.

Matt didn’t hesitate anymore.

He moved.

He calculated his trajectory in an instant. Rooftops, ledges, the shortest possible route to reach her. His muscles coiled and then he launched himself forward.

Faster. Faster.

Matt finally landed silently on a rooftop just a few meters from the scene, his senses locking onto every detail. The woman’s breathing was ragged, her heart hammering in her chest. The three men had surrounded her, their voices dripping with cruel amusement as they taunted her.

She fought back, struggling against their grip but she was outnumbered, outmatched and outmuscle.

Her scream for help cut through the night.

Matt exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had done this a thousand times before but Japan was different. He wasn’t Daredevil here. Didn’t matter.

He moved.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he launched his billy clubs. They struck two of the attackers with precise force, one in the wrist, the other in the ribs. Both men stumbled back with curses of pain.

Before the third could react, Matt dropped from the rooftop, twisting midair. His foot connected squarely with the man’s chest, sending him crashing into the alley wall.

The woman gasped, her eyes wide as she turned toward the man in full black.

Matt adjusted his stance, his voice dropping into a low, threatening growl.

"I'm in a good mood tonight boys. Leave her alone or the place you’ll spend the night will be the hospital."

One of the assailants groaned as he pushed himself off the ground. "Who the hell are you?"

"Yeah, this ain't your business," another sneered. "And I’m pretty sure you’re not a Pro Hero."

Matt cracked his neck, slipping into his fighting stance.

"Exactly I will hurt you… last warning, boys," declare the red hair behind the mask.

Then, in a whisper, just for the woman:

"The first chance you get… run."

She shook her head. "I… I can't. They hurt my knee."

Matt stay silent for a second then reply “Stay behind”

The air was thick with tension as the three assailants regrouped. Matt’s senses were already on alert, each villain exuding hostile intent.

One of the men in the trio, his arm transformed into a bear’s limb, charged first. His powerful swipe narrowly missed Matt, who dodged and countered with a quick jab but the brute’s thick fur absorbed the blow.

The second villain, flicked his wrist, sending sharp crystal shards toward Matt. The redhead block the crystal shards with his billy club and dodged some of them, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectiles. Matt retaliated with a strike to the villain’s arm but the man grinned, shrugging off the pain.

The third villain, was no longer there, Matt had to push his senses to detect the guy with some type of invisibility and undetectability, the guy moved silently beraly noticeable by Matt enhance hearing. He could feel the slightly shift in the air just before the villain lunged. Without hesitation, Matt threw his billy club, catching the invisible assailant off-guard, stumbling back.

The animal powered villain attacked again, this time with greater speed, but Matt leapt back, avoiding the strike. He twisted, delivering a punch to the villain’s midsection. But the brute retaliated with another powerful swipe, rattling the ground beneath them. Matt gritted his teeth and ducked under the punch, using his momentum to deliver a devastating blow to the villain’s ribs. The animal powered villain roared then start swinging without precision.

Matt smirk and swiftly side-stepped, using his legs to trip the villain, sending him crashing to the ground. But the spiked villain launched another volley of shards, grazing Matt’s arm. Blood dripped from the cuts but he pushed through the pain.

The invisible villain circled again and he land a hit in the face and a hit in the ribs. Matt responded by throwing his billy club, striking him in the chest. the animal-powered assailant was back on his feet, charging once more.

Matt was relentless avoiding another swing from the bear-like arm and blocking the next barrage of shards. His arms bled from the cuts but he moved with precision, reacting faster than his attackers expected. He dropped low then sprang up, sending his billy club crashing into the spiked villain’s face. The villain reeled back in pain but Matt didn’t stop. He pushed forward, landing blow after blow.

Just then, the invisible villain attacked from behind again, trying to choke Matt. He could feel the villain’s breath on his neck but remained calm, twisting and slamming the villain into a wall, loosening his grip. Matt spun around, landing a punch that cracked the villain’s ribs and finishing with a head butt, the invisible man crumpled to the ground.

One down.

The animal-powered villain roared in fury but Matt was undeterred. The spiked villain, though disoriented, advanced again, sending another volley of sharp projectiles. Matt try to pin point his billy club… he found them. He reacted instinctively, dodging the sharp spiked and jumping around towards his billy club. He had enough time to pick his billy club and block the projectiles. Matt pick up the charge of the animal powered individual. He sidestepping the animal-powered villain’s attack. He followed with a strike to the villain’s side, sending him stumbling.

The spiked villain launched more shards but Matt deflected most of them, feeling one graze his cheek. “Running out of tricks?” Matt taunted. The villain growled and lunged at him but Matt sidestepped, twisting the villain’s wrist and kneeing him in the gut. The villain gasped, winded then Matt finished him with a head butt.

Only the invisible man remained, struggling to crawl away. Matt launched his billy club, striking the villain’s head, knocking him unconscious.

Silence fell over the alley.

Matt wiped the blood from his lip and cheek, smirking.

The woman, still sitting on the ground behind the dumpster looked up at him, wide eyed. “Who… who are you?”

Matt smiled. “Just a guy out for a run.”

The woman, trembling and tear-streaked, managed to stand, her hand shaking as she reached out to Matt. Her voice was thick with gratitude. “Thank you... thank you so much... I don’t know what I wou-”

She tried to pull him into an embrace, but Matt gently stopped her, wincing as he felt the raw ache in his muscles. The battle had taken its toll, and his body was starting to feel every cut, every bruise, every strained joint.

"Easy there" Matt murmured. "I promise you… you don’t want to touch me. I’m not exactly in the best shape."

The woman froze, concern flickering in her eyes.

"Call the police. Tell them what happened.” Say the redhead. “I’ll make sure if they wake up, they won't escape." Comment Murdock by pointing to the guys knock-out on the ground.

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand then scrambled for her phone. Her voice, though shaky, was firm as she spoke to the dispatcher. Matt stayed where he was, listening to her voice with a quiet sense of reassurance. He could hear the sirens growing closer, the distinct hum of police vehicles nearing the alley.

Matt gave a small smile, a brief flicker of satisfaction. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling his spine crack in the way it always did after a fight. It had been five months since he’d been in a real physical confrontation and his body was reminding him of that with every sore muscle, every deep ache. His superhuman senses only amplified the sensation, the slightest twitch, the faintest throb felt ten times worse than it normally would.

He couldn’t help but wince.

Matt turned back to the alley. The villains were still unconscious, sprawled on the ground in various states of defeat. The woman was now  talking rapidly to the police. She was safe, at least and that was what mattered.

Matt took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for the pain and started to climb toward the rooftop. His muscles screamed in protest but he ignored it, focusing instead on getting back to his home, to the peace of being alone.

He was just about to disappear into the night when his senses flared.

The air shifting with the faintest movement. Someone was sneaking up behind him.

Matt whirled around, his senses locking on the ribbon that flew toward him, aiming to ensnare him. He caught it in mid-air, twisting his body to avoid the force pulling him toward his assailant. The ribbon tightened around his wrist, but Matt yanked his arm back, his other hand finding purchase on the edge of a building for balance. His heart beat faster.

Two figures appeared at the entrance of the alley, their movements confident and controlled. Matt’s senses immediately recognized one of them.

“Damn it.”

Eraserhead. Ms. Joke.

The two Pro Heroes stepped forward with unmistakable grace, the night air buzzing with their presence. Eraserhead's sharp, unwavering gaze locked on Matt, while Ms. Joke’s eyes glinted with amusement.

“Really?” Eraserhead’s gravelly voice cut through the tension. “You didn’t think you’d get away with it, did you?”

Matt ground his teeth, his mind cursing him silently.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Of course. Of all the nights for them to show up.”

Chapter Text

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Of course. Of all the nights for them to show up.”

Ms. Joke crossed her arms, tilting her head with a mischievous grin. “Well, look at you. Trying to be the hero, huh? What’s with the all-black ensemble? You trying to look intimidating or just... make a fashion statement?”

Matt could feel the heat rising in his chest, the desire to retort hanging at the tip of his tongue but he held back. Instead, he simply exhaled, letting the words go.

“I just wanted to take a walk,” he replied dryly, trying to sound casual, as if the fight he’d just been in wasn’t weighing heavily on him. “It’s been a long day.”

Ms. Joke raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Aizawa look like he hear the lamest joke of his life.

“Really? I’d say it looks more like you’ve been playing “defender of the innocent.”” She tilt her head as she examined him. “That suit's a little too tight for that, though. If you wanted to play hero, you should’ve gone for something a bit more professional.”

Matt suppressed a grimace, his senses picking up on her every movement.

Eraserhead, standing a few paces behind her, folded his arms and advance slightly towards the vigilante in black. “So, you’re just out for a stroll in the middle of the night, huh? With that exact timing?”

Matt shrugged slightly, keeping his posture relaxed despite the way his muscles were screaming at him. “Yeah, that’s right. Took a little detour on the way home.” He made it sound nonchalant but the weight of the lie hung heavily in the air.

Ms. Joke chuckled, clearly amused. “Right, so you just happened to be out for a midnight jog and accidentally ran into three guys harassing a woman? That’s either incredibly lucky or you straight up lie.”

Matt didn’t want to admit anything but the truth was… he had no idea if he was lucky or just plain stupid for getting involved. His body ached in every possible way. He was used to fighting, used to dealing with the consequences of his choices. But the last thing he needed right now was a run-in with two Pro Heroes who were probably just itching for an excuse to fight.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” he muttered

Ms. Joke laughed, her bright, teasing voice breaking through the tense air. “Oh wow, I like this guy,” she chuckled, nudging Eraserhead with her elbow. “You sure he’s not one of your students Erased ?”

Aizawa, his expression unamused and his tone sharp, ignored her. His eyes remained locked on Matt. “I saw you fight,” he stated bluntly. “You didn’t just defend yourself. You beat down three men... with some type of sticks”

Matt exhaled through his nose, already feeling where this conversation was going. He straightened his posture, keeping his stance casual but prepared. “A woman was in danger,” he countered smoothly, slipping into his lawyer voice. “There were no heroes in the area and they were seconds away from doing something very illegal. I stepped in. You and I both know that was the right call.”

Ms. Joke hummed, tilting her head. “Well, technically, he’s got a point.”

Aizawa shot her a glare.

She grinned. “I’ll shut up now.”

Matt smirked slightly but kept his focus on Aizawa. He knew he wasn’t dealing with a regular officer or some rookie Pro Hero.

Aizawa was sharp, experienced and someone who hated rule-breakers especially ones operating outside the system.

Still, Matt wasn’t about to back down.

“Look, I get it,” Matt said, keeping his tone diplomatic. “You don’t like vigilantes and trust me, I don’t blame you. But I’m not looking for trouble. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

Aizawa’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not here to negotiate.”

Matt sighed dramatically. “Of course you’re not.”

He took a step back, subtly shifting his weight, preparing to move. Then, with the most deadpan expression he could muster, he turned to Ms. Joke and said, “Can you calm down your… partner… buddy… boyfriend or whatever relationship you have with him for a second?”

Ms. Joke’s eyes lit up.

Aizawa’s face twitched.

And Matt use the small distraction he created to run.

He launched himself onto the next rooftop. His legs screamed at him to stop, his injuries catching up to him but adrenaline pushed him forward.

Behind him, he heard Aizawa growl in frustration. Then, the unmistakable whip of a capture weapon snapping into action.

Matt twisted midair, barely avoiding the binding cloth as it lashed past him.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered before pushing himself faster.

Ms. Joke laughed as she and Aizawa gave chase. “Hey, Eraser, if we catch him, does this count as a date?”

Aizawa ignored her, eyes narrowing as he focused on the vigilante on black.

Aizawa kept his eyes locked on the man running ahead of them. His mind worked quickly, breaking down every movement, every physical trait he could observe. The target was stupidly fast and agile, far beyond what an average civilian should be capable of, it doesn't look like a quirk enhances his biology. His build suggested he was over 6 feet tall with a crazy level of fluidity in his movement that only came from extensive training.

Aizawa had only caught a glimpse of his fighting style but it had been enough. The way he moved, how efficiently he took down the 3 men, the sheer control in every strike, it was clear. This wasn’t just some reckless vigilante throwing punches in an alley. Whoever he was, he was trained and he was dangerous.

Another thing stood out. Even as he ran, the man’s breathing was controlled, his movements deliberate. He wasn’t panicked. He wasn’t desperate. He knew exactly what he was doing despite his small injuries.

And then there was the way he spoke.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes slightly. His Japanese was good, fluent even but there was something about his sentence structure, the way he formed his words, that felt off. Subtle things. The kind of details Aizawa picked up after years of dealing with international students at U.A.

He’s not Japanese. Also he was younger or the same age as him, around his mid 20s to early 30s

That raised more questions than it answered.

“Can you slow him down?” Aizawa asked without looking at Ms. Joke, his focus locked on their target.

Ms. Joke, still grinning as she kept pace beside him, gave an exaggerated shrug. “Nope. He’s too far ahead for my quirk to work. You gotta be closer for me to really make someone laugh.”

Aizawa grunted in irritation. He had already expected that answer but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

The man was getting away.

The chase continued, Matt’s breaths controlled but his body protesting with every movement. His injuries were starting to slow him down. He was still faster than Aizawa and Ms. Joke but his unfamiliarity with Tokyo’s streets made every turn a gamble. He hesitated at intersections, unsure of the best escape route and that hesitation was costing him.

They were gaining on him.

Damn it.

Matt gritted his teeth. If he kept running like this, they would catch him soon. He needed a new approach.

With a flick of his wrist, he extended his billy clubs, hooking them onto a metal railing. He swung forward, using his momentum to launch himself across the street, landing on a rooftop in the other side of the street. Without stopping, he repeated the motion, moving from building to building with practiced ease.

Aizawa groaned. "This guy is seriously pushing his limits. Even injured, he's maintaining this pace."

Ms. Joke laughed breathlessly. "You sound impressed."

Aizawa didn’t respond but his mind was racing. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t just some reckless vigilante. His speed, agility and control suggested years of training. He was too skilled to be an amateur.

An ex-Pro Hero, maybe?

Aizawa didn’t like unanswered questions.

Then, finally, their chance came.

Matt miscalculated his landing, just barely. His foot slipped as he landed on a rooftop ledge, forcing him to readjust mid-air. It was a small mistake but it was enough.

Aizawa’s capture weapon shot out, wrapping around the fire escape Matt had just grabbed onto, forcing him to let go.

Matt landed in a crouch, breathing heavily. He sighed, realizing he was officially out of easy options.

Ms. Joke grinned. "Well, that was fun… but I think it’s time to wrap this up, don’t you?"

Aizawa’s gaze was sharp. "You’re done running. Surrender now."

Matt rolled his shoulders, his expression unreadable. "Look, I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go and I’ll disappear."

Aizawa’s voice was flat. "Not happening."

Matt sighed again, adjusting his "mask". "Yeah, figured you’d say that."

He adjusted his stance, shifting into a fighting position. He didn’t want to do this but he wasn’t going to be taken in without a fight.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. Ms. Joke cracked her knuckles, looking far too excited.

"Here we go," she said cheerfully.

Matt exhaled.

"I really should’ve just stayed home tonight."

Aizawa wasted no time. He lunged forward, aiming a sharp kick at Matt’s torso. Matt braced himself, twisting his body just in time to block the attack with his forearm. The force still sent him skidding back slightly but he recovered fast, using Aizawa’s momentary imbalance to push him away.

Ms. Joke took the opening, rushing in low to tackle him to the ground.

Matt smirked. He had already predicted the move.

As soon as she got close, he brought his knee up sharply, driving it straight into her stomach. Ms. Joke let out a short grunt, stumbling back as she clutched her midsection.

“Damn,” she muttered between breaths. “That hurt.”

Aizawa was already back on him. He threw a rapid series of punches, left, right, right, and another right. Matt moved smoothly, his body twisting with each attack, dodging with precise head movements. When Aizawa swung his last punch, Matt turned on his heel, pivoting into a spinning kick.

Aizawa, quick as ever, lifted his knee, blocking the strike before it could land. Matt’s foot connected with solid bone, sending a dull ache up his leg.

He clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

Aizawa’s mind was racing. His attacks were being read, his counters being predicted. He had fought plenty of skilled opponents before but this guy was different. His reaction time, his awareness, everything about him screamed experience.

“He’s good,” Aizawa thought.

Ms. Joke straightened up, still rubbing her stomach. “Hey Eraser, I think I need a second. That knee was no joke.”

Aizawa glanced at her, unamused. “You good?”

She grinned, giving a thumbs-up. “Oh yeah, I’m great. Just regretting all my life choices right now.”

Matt stood ready, his body screaming in protest, each ache amplifying with every movement. His senses were sharp but his exhaustion was beginning to show. He had run across two Pro Heroes tonight who clearly knew what they were doing. Not exactly the kind of evening he had planned. He could feel his own fatigue creeping in, his body battered and sore but he kept his posture relaxed, refusing to show any weakness.

He knew Aizawa wasn’t giving it his all. The Pro Hero was holding back, trying not to hurt him too badly.

But that didn’t mean Matt wasn’t feeling every bruise, every cut from the previous battle.

Matt senses pick up something. 

Matt could sense it.

Ms. Joke was preparing something, he could feel the shift in her body, the subtle change. She was setting up her quirk.

Before Matt could react, he found himself bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

“What the hell?”

He didn’t understand it, couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly laughing hysterically. His mind raced, trying to pinpoint the reason. The laughter was so intense that it took all his effort to stay upright.

Through the blur of laughter, he heard Ms. Joke's voice. “I knew that would get you.”

“What happen…” Matt managed to choke out through his laughs, his body shaking with the unexpected burst of humor. His senses flared in all directions but everything felt out of sync.

That’s when Aizawa saw his opportunity. With Matt’s focus completely thrown off by the laughter, Aizawa charged forward, delivering a clean uppercut straight to Matt’s jaw. The force of the punch snapped his head back, sending a shockwave of pain through his skull.

Matt's laughter cut off abruptly as he stumbled back, disoriented from the blow. His “vision” wavered and he barely had time to register Ms. Joke’s next move.

She was already in motion. With a quick leap, she slammed a fist into Matt’s side, sending him crashing to the ground with brutal force. The impact felt like a freight train and Matt’s body slammed against the pavement.

As he lay there, breath knocked out of him, he cursed himself inwardly. “This is it, Murdock. You should’ve stayed in bed tonight.”

He could hear the sound of Ms. Joke and Aizawa exchanging glances above him, probably thinking he was done.

Not yet...

Matt gritted his teeth and forced himself to rise, his muscles screaming in protest as he pushed himself off the ground. He was bleeding from his lip, his body aching all over but he refused to stay down. His pride wouldn’t let him.

He steadied himself, blinking away the disorientation and refocusing. “Alright, I’ve had enough of the jokes for one night,” Matt muttered to himself, his voice steady despite the chaos inside his head.

He rolled his shoulders, preparing for the next round. His senses were returning to their sharpness but the laughter still lingered in his mind like an echo, an odd reminder of how off-balance things had gotten.

Aizawa and Ms. Joke were in position, ready to take him down for good.

Matt moved quickly, trying to regain control of the fight. His body ached, bruises and cuts stinging from the previous encounter. He tried to focus on Aizawa’s movements, hoping to land a solid hit. But just as he lunged toward him, the all too familiar surge of uncontrollable laughter hit him again.

Ms. Joke’s quirk had taken hold once more. The moment Matt’s body started to shake with laughter, he couldn't stop it. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, gasping for air between bursts of laughter. His injuries didn't help, each laugh sending jolts of pain through his already battered form. He groaned as his body went limp, laughter overtaking him as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Aizawa, sensing Matt’s vulnerability, seized the opportunity. He pulled out his capture ribbon, extending it in a swift, controlled motion but Matt was already in the process of trying to move, relying on his heightened senses to dodge.

He barely avoided the ribbon, his movements a little sluggish from the laughter but it wasn’t enough. Before he could gather himself, a sudden kick from Ms. Joke slammed into his side.

The force of the kick sent him stumbling back, barely managing to keep his footing. His hand shot out to brace himself but the pain in his side made him groan. It wasn’t just a kick, it was the force of the blow combined with the laughter that he couldn’t control. His body felt heavier than ever, every muscle aching, every breath an effort.

"I need to get out of here," Matt thought desperately but Ms. Joke wasn’t letting him.

As he attempted to retreat, trying to make his way into the shadows, he felt the laughter take over once again. It was like a tide pulling him under, his body betraying him as he stumbled backward, helpless to stop it.

In that instant, Aizawa moved fast. His experience with dealing with fast opponents like Matt gave him the edge and he was already on the move. Before Matt could react, Aizawa disarmed him, quickly snatching the baton from his hand and sending it flying.

Matt didn’t even have time to react to the loss of his weapon. Aizawa grabbed him with ease, using his own momentum against him and executed a smooth judo throw.

Matt hit the ground hard, his already battered body absorbing the impact. He winced, unable to stop himself from groaning in pain. The street was cold against his back and he could feel the concrete scraping against his skin.

Before he could try to push himself up, Aizawa’s ribbon was already around his feet, effectively trapping him.

The night air was heavy with silence as Ms. Joke moved closer to Matt, her footsteps light but deliberate. Her tone was playful, yet there was something more serious beneath her words. "If you surrender now, the consequences will be much less severe. After all, we were there when you saved that woman earlier. We can take you to a hospital, help with your injuries."

Matt’s senses immediately sharpened. Her heartbeat was steady but had a quickened rhythm, a hint of amusement mixed with something else, perhaps a touch of guilt. Her breath was calm, measured.

He sighed, the weight of exhaustion dragging at his every thought. "You and your partner just hit me several times. I'm not exactly in the mood for your 'help.'"

Ms. Joke paused, her smirk faltering slightly. "Well, you did resist..." she said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck as if embarrassed.

Matt could hear the hesitation in her voice but the frustration gnawing at him only grew.

He shifted his position slightly, testing the restraint that still held him. It was clear they had him trapped, at least, that’s what they thought.

Aizawa, still standing nearby, had relaxed his posture for a fraction of a second. Those few seconds were enough.

Matt’s legs, which had been bound by Aizawa’s capture ribbon, suddenly shifted free. It wasn’t a dramatic move, not like in the movies but Matt’s finely tuned senses picked up every slight change in the tension of the binds. Aizawa, too focused on the conversation with Ms. Joke, had missed the crucial moment where Matt’s legs had slipped free from the trap.

Aizawa’s realization came too late. He looked at Matt, his expression hardening as he noticed the shift in the man's posture.

“Ms. Joke!” Aizawa’s voice was sharp, but he was already too slow to stop what was coming.

Matt moved with the speed of instinct. In an instant, he transitioned from the ground to a standing position. His movements were quick and fluid. Before either Aizawa or Ms. Joke could move, he was on her, using the momentum to push her to the ground in a swift, controlled motion.

With one arm, he effortlessly lifted her, his grip tight as he swung her toward Aizawa. The force was enough to send Ms. Joke hurtling through the air. Aizawa had barely enough time to react, catching her in his arms to soften her fall.

“Are you alright?” Aizawa asked, his voice a mixture of concern and annoyance.

Ms. Joke wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she grinned up at him. “Never let me go again, okay?” she said, her voice playful but with a hint of genuine affection.

Aizawa’s face twisted with a look of disgust. He pushed her away, stepping back with an exasperated sigh.

Matt, meanwhile had already vanished into the shadows. His senses told him that the coast was clear, that his moment of escape had arrived. The chase was over… for now, at least.

Aizawa stood motionless for a moment, staring into the darkness where Matt had disappeared.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “He’s gone.”

Matt moved through the night like a shadow, staying low and hidden, making his way through the city as quickly and quietly as possible. He could feel the strain in his muscles, his body reminding him of every hit, every bruise. But he didn’t let that stop him. His senses guided him and the adrenaline still pulsed through his veins, pushing him forward.

After about an hour, Matt found himself back on familiar ground. The rooftops felt like home and he used the height to his advantage, slipping through alleyways and across building tops, making sure no one saw him as he made his way back.

He finally reached his home.

The quiet of his home greeted him.

Matt peeled off his black costume with a weary sigh, his muscles aching from the battle. He winced as his fingers brushed over the sore spots on his body but he didn’t give them any more attention than they deserved. He dropped the suit onto the floor, briefly glancing at it before his eyes naturally were drawn to the Daredevil suit hanging in his wardrobe.

The sleek, red fabric, the symbol he had once embraced so fully.

He clenched his fist, realizing he didn’t hate the feeling of fighting, the rush, the focus that came with it. It had been months since he’d been in a real fight but tonight, he felt it again, the thrill. The power.

Damn it…

He cursed under his breath, his voice barely a whisper.

“I... almost enjoyed that.”

His thoughts spiraled, the weight of his actions settling in. He had stepped too far back into that life, a life he had tried to leave behind. But tonight… tonight felt different. The adrenaline had made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t in a while.

Matt sighed, pushing his conflicted feelings aside as he collapsed onto his bed. His body screamed for rest, the exhaustion finally taking hold. He shut his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep, much needed sleep.

Chapter Text

Matthew Murdock woke up to the dull, throbbing symphony of his own body protesting.  

His ribs ached like they’d been used as a speedbag. His knuckles burned. His left shoulder pulsed with a deep, stubborn throb that whispered “you’re getting too old for this” in a voice suspiciously like Foggy’s.  

He exhaled through his nose, letting the quiet of his apartment settle over him, the hum of the fridge downstairs, the distant shuffle of pedestrians outside, the faint metallic tang of dried blood still clinging to his skin.  

Last night.  

The alley. The woman alive, unharmed, he’d made sure of that. The three idiots who thought a woman would be easy prey. The way the fight had turned messy, the way his hip had slammed into the dumpster.  

And then “them”.  

Eraserhead’s capture weapon lashing through the dark like a live wire. Ms. Joke’s laughter, sharp as broken glass. The way they’d moved, professionals heroes, trouble.  

He’d gotten away. Barely.  

Matthew groaned, rolling onto his side. His phone was downstairs, abandoned on the coffee table like a traitor. 

He sat up.  

Bad idea.  

"Fuck."  

His side flared white hot and for a second, he just breathed through it, fingers digging into the mattress. No broken ribs. Just… regret. Slowly, he stood, testing his weight. His thighs protested. His back creaked. His face… He touched his cheekbone, the split skin there. Small. Wouldn’t need stitches. The bruises would be harder to hide but nothing a high collar and a convincing smile couldn’t handle.  

The bathroom was a pilgrimage.  

He peeled off his shirt, tossing it toward the hamper (missing, of course) and turned the shower on hot. The mirror fogged immediately, sparing him the sight of his own battered reflection. Small mercies.  

The water was scalding, perfect. It loosened the knots in his shoulders, washed the grime and blood from his skin. He tilted his head back, letting it sluice through his hair, down his neck, over the bruises blooming across his ribs.  

No hospital. No explanations. Just pain, familiar as an old friend.  

He smiled. 

God, he was a perfect idiot. A perfect tired idiot .   

He shut off the water, reaching for a towel.  

Time to face the day.

The kitchen smelled of burnt toast and Rumi's stubbornness.

Izuku froze in the doorway, eyes widening before he spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. "R-RUMI!" His voice cracked spectacularly. "CLOTHES. PLEASE."

Rumi took a lazy bite of cereal, milk dribbling down her chin. "Relax, Izu. I'm wearing clothes." She gestured at her sports bra with her spoon. "See? Fabric. Coverage. Civilization."

Izuku kept his back turned, ears burning crimson. "Underwear doesn't count!"

"Since when?"

"Since always!" He flailed toward the staircase. "I'm getting you pants!"

"Wow, heroic," Rumi called after him, crunching another mouthful.

Izuku returned in record time, hurling a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at her head like grenades. "Here!"

The pants hit Rumi square in the face. She peeled them off slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You good?"

"Just put them on!" Izuku stared resolutely at the ceiling, looking like he might spontaneously combust.

Rumi sighed dramatically but stood, stepping into the sweatpants with exaggerated slowness. "Y'know, for a future hero, you're really bad with skin. Wait'll you see your first bikini villain"

"NOT HELPING."

She tugged the t-shirt over her head, the fabric catching on her muscled shoulders. "There. Decency restored. You can look now."

The clink of a spoon against an empty bowl broke the small silence.

Rumi leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head with a low groan. Her sweatpants hung low on her hips and her oversized shirt had one shoulder slipping off but at least it counted as decent by Izuku’s fragile standards.

She looked over at him.

“So, why aren’t you in school?” she asked casually, tossing her spoon into the sink with a soft clang.

Izuku blinked. “Huh?”

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a weekday. You are not in uniform and your homework isn't on fire. That not screams "class time to me.”

He hesitated. “Uh... homeroom teacher’s sick. They cancelled morning classes. Half-day.”

Rumi eyed him for a second too long then shrugged. “Huh. Lucky.”

Izuku let out a soft breath, grateful his improvised excuse hadn’t been challenged. Yet.

Rumi turned to rinse her bowl. “Still doesn’t explain why you keep short-circuiting every time I’m in sports mode.”

“Because you’re my sister,” he muttered. “You shouldn’t just walk around… in stuff like that.”

“Sportswear? Izuku, it’s not lingerie. I was literally just eating cereal.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”

She scoffed and shot him a grin over her shoulder. “You’re soft.”

He sighed. “Maybe I like being soft.”

Rumi wiped her hands and leaned against the counter, eyeing him with amusement. “Yeah, well, you could be a little less delicate. Like Bakugo.”

The moment the name left her mouth, Izuku’s shoulders tensed. His gaze drifted toward the floor, the fridge, the ceiling. Anywhere but at her.

“Ah, crap,” Rumi said, voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Izuku said after a beat, a smile twitching at his lips. “I know you didn’t.”

“You sure?” she asked, this time a little more hesitant.

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean... Kacchan is kinda cool. Loud but cool. Sometimes.”

Rumi smirked. “Loud recognizes loud.”

Izuku chuckled as he made his way toward the fridge. “Explains a lot.”

She watched him open the door, the cold light spilling out onto his freckled face. His expression was softer now, less tense. Less like the boy who flinched when things got too real.

Izuku hunched over the fridge like a treasure hunter, nudging aside a suspiciously wrapped bowl of rice and a jar of kimchi he didn’t remember existing.

“So…” he said, not looking back, “you got any plans today?”

Rumi stretched again with a grunt, arms raised above her head like she was saluting the ceiling. “Eh. Might hit the gym. Might hit the street vendor on Third with the good gyoza. Might hit someone annoying, depending how the day goes.”

Izuku gave a dry laugh. “Classic Rumi.”

She tilted her head back, lips twitching. “You love it.”

The front door opened with a sudden click, followed by muffled laughter and the unmistakable rustle of shopping bags. A deeper, familiar voice rang out through the hallway.

“I swear, Inko, that cashier was flirting with you.”

A second voice followed, Inko’s voice, warm and flustered. “Oh hush, Mitsuki.”

Rumi’s head snapped toward the doorway, eyes lighting up. She was already on her feet before the footsteps reached the kitchen. “Aunt Mitsuki!” she shouted, beaming.

A tall blonde woman stepped in, laughing loudly, with a grocery bag slung over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Rumi launched forward, wrapping her in a strong hug that lifted both bags and aunt off the ground.

Mitsuki cackled as she hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek. “God, you’ve gotten stronger again! What the hell are you feeding those legs?”

“Raw fury,” Rumi grinned.

Behind her, Inko stepped in, flushed from laughter, arms full of produce.

Izuku hesitated by the fridge door, caught in limbo.

Inko glanced at him and nodded softly. “Go on, sweetie. Say hi.”

He swallowed and stepped forward slowly. “Hi, Aunt Mitsuki…”

Mitsuki turned like a lioness spotting her favorite cub and snatched him into a crushing hug. “There’s my boy! You’re taller! What’ve they been feeding you at that school of yours?”

Izuku laughed, voice muffled into her shoulder.

She finally let go, ruffling his hair. “You keep this up and you’ll be catching up to Katsuki by next summer.”

“I dunno about that,” Izuku said, cheeks faintly pink.

Inko shook her head affectionately and started placing groceries on the table. Mitsuki followed suit, unloading her own bags next to her.

The soft click of ceramic against wood echoed as Matthew set his empty coffee mug down beside his now cold plate. The remains of breakfast sat there barely touched. Protein, carbs, balance. All intentional. All wasted.

He sat cross legged on the floor by the window, Bible open in his lap. His fingers rested gently on the page, feeling the raised edges of the Braille but he wasn’t reading. Not really. The wind brushed past the window, carrying the scent of tempura oil and springtime smog from the street vendors below. Kids laughed in the alleyway, their sneakers slapping against pavement.

But Matt didn’t hear any of that.

He was still hearing last night.

The woman’s cry.

The heavy breathing of the third guy, too slow, too cocky, too sloppy and the panicked snap of his wrist beneath Matt’s grip.

He had promised himself it was over. That Daredevil was dead in New York.

That Japan would be different.

He had no right dragging this version of himself across an ocean.

Matt’s jaw clenched. The Bible in his lap shifted slightly as his hands tightened.

It was supposed to be a clean slate.

He sighed and closed the book, carefully setting it aside. His ribs still ached beneath his shirt, dull and sharp at the same time, like someone had lined his bones with glass. He needed air.

No, he needed something else. Something stable. Familiar.

“A church,” he murmured aloud. His voice sounded odd in the silence. Like it didn’t belong to the room. “I need to check if there’s a church around here.”

He stood slowly, carefully, favoring his left side. His muscles complained as he moved toward the sink, rinsing the mug in absent motion. His fingers worked automatically, more out of habit than necessity.

There was a church in every city. Somewhere. Maybe smaller here. Maybe quieter.

But if he was going to hold onto anything. Anything at all, it had to be that.

He reached for his phone, tracking it by sound alone: charger hum, slight electric buzz, warmth on the table near the stairs.

It vibrated just as he picked it up. Probably a spam call. He let it go.

Instead, he tapped through his contact list until he reached the Midoriyas. He hovered for a second.

He could ask them. Inko was kind. Izuku, a little nervous but polite. Rumi…

Matt blinked.

Nope.

He cleared his throat and focused. He’d just ask for directions.

Matt grabbed his white cane, folding it out with a snap and adjusted the collar of his long-sleeved shirt over the fading bruises on his neck.

No mask. No horns. Just Matt.

Izuku sat quietly, the remains of his sandwich barely touched on the plate. Across from him, the living room buzzed. Rumi was halfway draped over the couch, flipping through channels like it owed her money. Inko and Aunt Mitsuki laughed together, deep in conversation, voices overlapping with warmth and old memories.

Izuku smiled faintly but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Mitsuki wasn’t the issue. He liked her, he really did. But whenever she came around, his chest tightened, like someone was wrapping him up in invisible tape. She reminded him of his ex-childhood friend.

A knock echoed through the house.

Before anyone else could react, Izuku stood and headed toward the door.

He opened it.

"Matt!" Izuku beamed, eyes lighting up.

Matthew stood there, tall and casual, cane folded in one hand, the other adjusting his sunglasses. “Afternoon, Izuku,” he said, smile crooked, voice soft and warm.

Izuku stepped aside. “Come in, come in.”

Matt entered slowly, moving with the easy rhythm of someone used to navigating unfamiliar terrain. The living room buzz dropped by half a decibel as all heads turned toward the visitor.

Inko gasped, delighted. She rushed up to Matt and wrapped him in a hug. Matt bent forward awkwardly, laughing through the sudden embrace. “It’s good to see you too, Inko.”

Inko tugged his arm gently, leading him forward like a proud mom showing off a science project. “Come, come I want you to meet my “sister!”

Matt chuckled, straightening up. He adjusted his glasses as he was guided toward Mitsuki.

“Mitsuki,” Inko announced, “this is the young man I was talking about Matthew Murdock, the lawyer I told you about.”

Matt lifted a hand in polite greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

Mitsuki stood up and stepped forward. “Oh! Uh” Her hand moved toward him instinctively but then her eyes dropped to the white cane hanging at his side. She hesitated.

Matt tilted his head slightly. He caught it.

Before it could get awkward, Rumi’s voice cut in.

“He’s blind but it’s not like... normal blind. He has some quirk or whatever that helps him ‘see.’” Her tone was casual, vaguely accusatory.

Matt turned toward her and gave a slow wave. “Hi, Rumi.”

Rumi’s mouth curled into a devilish smirk. “If you wave at me one more time, I’m gonna vomit.”

Matt chuckled, unfazed. “Noted.”

Mitsuki, still mid-hesitation, gave a small laugh and finally extended her hand. “Sorry, just wasn’t expecting... well... You're a lot taller than I imagined.”

Matt took her hand gently, shaking it. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

She gave him a once over, nothing subtle about it. Her brow arched, impressed. “You’ve got a strong build for a bli- I mean lawyer.”

Rumi snorted behind her hand,

Mitsuki folded her arms, smirking as she gave Matt another once over. “Tall, strong and smart? You’re blessed.” Matthew tilted his head with a faint grin. “You forgot handsome. But who's counting?” Izuku let out a stifled laugh, while Inko slapped Mitsuki’s arm playfully.

Across the room, Rumi rolled her eyes so hard it was practically audible. “You forgot weird, annoying and rude.”

Matt turned his head slightly, smile growing. “That’s a weird way to introduce yourself, Rumi.”

A beat. Then Izuku chuckled under his breath. Mitsuki snorted. Even Inko couldn’t hide her grin as she covered her mouth.

Rumi stood up. The room didn’t go quiet but it tensed slightly, just enough to make Izuku's eyes flick up nervously.

Rumi stalked toward Matt with practiced confidence and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. He didn’t resist, he didn’t even flinch. He just smiled lazily, like this was all part of a routine they hadn’t yet written down.

Standing this close, the height difference was glaring. She only just came up to his collarbone. Matt, of course, didn’t acknowledge it. But he didn’t need to.

“You wanna fight, blind guy?” she snapped, tone sharp and biting. “Just because you helped me once doesn’t mean we’re buddies.”

Matt tilted his chin, thoughtful. “You’re really into grabbing me lately. You should pace yourself.”

Rumi's grip tightened. “I will end you.”

“No, you won’t,” Matt said softly, “You’re not that heartless.”

That got a small hmmph from her.

He finally turned his head just enough to "look" away from her and directed his next words at Izuku with a calm smile.

“Hey ’Zuku,” Matt said, his tone relaxed as ever. “I was looking for a Catholic church nearby.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the energy in the room shifted. All eyes turned toward him. Even Rumi, who had still been standing close, slowly released her grip on his shirt and stepped back without a word, returning to her seat on the couch.

“You’re Christian?” she asked, almost skeptical.

Matt gave a quiet nod.

Rumi exhaled through her nose and leaned back. “Oh great. Now he’s gonna grace us with his kindness and high moral ground.”

Mitsuki held back a chuckle. Inko shot her daughter a mild look but didn’t say anything.

Izuku stepped closer to Matt, still with a faint smile from earlier. “Actually… the closest Catholic church is, uh, about an hour from here. Maybe a little more depending on traffic.”

Matt let out a short sigh. That wasn’t exactly what he hoped to hear.

“A taxi’s going to bleed me dry,” he muttered, half-joking. “And I’m pretty sure charity receipts don’t cover spiritual detours.”

Technically, the Hero Association covered his business travel within Japan but this wasn’t a legal consultation or pro bono case, it was personal. And inconvenient.

Matt adjusted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, considering his options. He could go another week without it. Maybe two. But he knew how that always ended. Japan was supposed to be a new chapter, not a pause button.

Izuku suddenly blinked, remembering something.

“Wait!” he said, voice picking up. “Rumi takes the bus,” Izuku offered helpfully. “Only thirty minutes if you cut through the station.”

Inko turned to her son. “That shortcut passes through the shady strip behind Nakano. You know that.”

Matt tilted his head. He didn’t see anything but the image of Rumi jumping across rooftops, dodging alleyways and reckless scooters like an urban rabbit, painted itself easily in his mind. He smiled then chuckled under his breath.

A beat.

Rumi’s voice snapped through the living room like a whip. “What’s so funny, Matthew?”

He straightened up, holding his hands up innocently. “Nothing.”

She squinted at him from the couch, unconvinced.

Matt adjusted his posture and smoothed his shirt, slipping his tone into something mock-guilty. “It’s okay. Really. I wouldn’t want to guilt anyone into escorting a lonely, blind, foreign Catholic to his place of spiritual comfort.” He sighed, dramatically. “The Lord will understand.”

Too late. Inko’s eyes were already wide and shiny.

“I mean,” Matt added, “I can always go next week.”

“No,” Inko said, her voice soft, heartfelt. “It’s okay, we’ll make sure you get there.”

Izuku’s smile dimmed. He looked a little guilty too, like he’d just turned down a group project.

Inko turned toward her daughter.

Rumi was already shaking her head. “No.”

Inko stepped closer, pressing her palms together. “Come on…”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

Izuku joined his mother. Two sets of green eyes, big and glowing.

Rumi stared at them. Glared. Frowned. Her lip twitched.

They blinked in perfect sync.

She groaned, long and loud, dragging her hands down her face. “Fine! Fine! I’ll take the blind church nerd to church!”

Matt smiled. “God bless you.”

Rumi shot him a glare so sharp it could cut stone.

The train rumbled gently beneath their feet, rocking them with a mechanical rhythm that filled the silence. Rumi sat across from Matt, arms crossed, one knee bouncing slightly as she stared.

He was still. Too still. Glasses perched neatly on his nose, hands gliding over the raised dots of his braille book like he’d done it a thousand times, which he probably had. Red hair slightly tousled, posture relaxed, everything about him screamed “I know what I’m doing.”

Rumi sighed. “You started boxing cause of your dad… right?”

Matt didn’t look up but the smirk on his lips stretched slowly, deliberately.

Rumi groaned internally. She knew that smirk. The one that said gotcha, like he’d been waiting for her to speak first.

“Trying to make conversation?” he asked, smug.

“Don’t make it weird,” she grumbled. Then, without warning, she kicked his shin.

He flinched, hand flying down to his leg. “It is truly not heroic to hit a defenseless blind person,” he said, rubbing the spot.

“I’ll hit you again,” she warned.

“I’m starting to believe that,” he muttered, still rubbing. “Is that how you express empathy? Through blunt force trauma?”

“Better than pity.”

That, surprisingly, shut him up for a second.

The silence came back but this time it wasn’t sharp or awkward. Just… there.

Matt eventually closed his book and rested it on his lap. Then he reached up, slid off his glasses and turned his face toward the window.

“Beautiful day, right?”

Rumi blinked. Her brows knit.

Matt tilted his head slightly. “Sure. Doesn’t mean I don’t like the idea of a beautiful day.” He smiled, but this one was soft. “Sun on your skin, warm breeze, laughter in the background. All good things.”

She stared at him for a beat too long.

“You’re weird.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Rumi leaned back in her seat, her arms loosening a bit. Matt leaned back slightly, fingers drumming lightly on the braille book still in his lap. “Boxing is the only thing left from my father,” he said, “no siblings. No cousins or aunts to speak of. After he died, that was pretty much it. Just gloves and a name.”

Rumi blinked.

She opened her mouth then closed it again. Her eyes narrowed instead. The man was impossible. You try to hate him then he hits you with the sad and alone orphan card. Matt tilted his head just slightly, turning it in her direction. He wasn’t looking at her, couldn’t, but somehow, it felt like he was watching her more closely than anyone ever had.

“You know,” he said, like it was nothing, “since I met your family… I’ve never seen your dad.”

Rumi’s foot twitched.

“At first I figured maybe he passed away. But the more I listen, the more I think…” Matt let the silence stretch like he was choosing his next words carefully. “You don’t talk about him. At all.”

He kept his voice light but his senses were locked in: her heartbeat jumped, breathing slowed but sharpened and her muscles especially around her neck and hands tightened like coiled rope.

Yeah.

He struck a nerve.

“If it’s not too personal,” he added, “why don’t you talk about him?”

Rumi’s jaw clenched. She stared out the window like it had insulted her personally.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said flatly.

Matt sigh then picks up his book and reopens it.

The train rolled along steadily, the soft clatter of the tracks the only real sound between them for several minutes. Matt had just finished reading, his fingers brushing over the final braille lines before he closed the book and leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sigh.

Rumi was glaring at him. He couldn’t see it but he knew it.

Call it a sixth sense.

Or maybe just the vibe.

“…You’re faking it,” Rumi said flatly, breaking the silence.

Matt turned his head toward her, amused. “Faking what?”

She jabbed a finger at his chest. “The blindness. I’m serious. You are so full of it.”

Matt grinned. “Again? I thought we were past this.”

“No, no, don’t act like I’m crazy!” Rumi shot back. “You dodged my kick the first time we met, caught that falling glass during dinner like a ninja and you always know when someone’s behind you. That’s not just “quirk GPS” like you claim. That’s something else. It’s too precise.”

He chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses. “You’re relentless.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Well then,” Matt said, clearly enjoying himself, “want to run a test?”

Rumi blinked. “What kind of test?”

“A pupillary reflex test. Check if my pupils respond to light.”

Rumi narrowed her eyes. “You're joking.”

“Nope,” Matt replied, sitting upright. “Pull out your phone’s flashlight. Shine it in my eye. See for yourself.”

Rumi didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone, squinted suspiciously and flicked on the flashlight. “Alright, lawyer boy. Don’t flinch.”

Matt stayed perfectly still, the smirk never leaving his face.

She brought the light close to one eye then the other. His pupils didn’t move like they were supposed to… at all

“What the…” she muttered, turning off the light. “How the hell? That’s not what happens if someone’s faking it…”

“Told you,” he said calmly, adjusting his tie like he just won a courtroom battle.

“But, but how can you move like that? React like that? That’s not normal.”

“I am blind,” Matt said, his tone quieter now. “But I’m not helpless. There's a difference.”

Rumi sat back hard against her seat, her arms folded, scowling at nothing in particular. “I don’t get you.”

“That’s fair,” Matt said with a shrug. “Most people don’t.”

“I liked it better when I thought you were lying.”

“Wow,” he laughed. “Thanks?”

“It was easier to hate you when you were just a smug fraud.”

“Easier to hate? So now I’m... what?”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“Again: progress,” Matt said, biting back a grin.

Rumi groaned and smacked her forehead against the train window.

Matt chuckled. “You hit your head on purpose?”

“Shut up, Murdock.”

“Noted.”

The rush of people outside the station was a sensory storm. Matt paused to adjust his walking stick, making sure it was clicked to the right height.

Rumi stood beside him, scanning the crowd then pointed off to the left. “That way,” she said, already taking a few strides forward.

Matt didn’t move.

She got about four steps in before realizing he wasn’t beside her. Turning around, she stared, deadpan. “Oh. Right. Blind. Forgot.”

Matt smirked. “It happens more often than you’d think. No offense taken.”

“None given,” she muttered, walking back to him.

“People don’t expect blind guys to have quick reflexes or sarcasm,” Matt replied, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. “They get confused. You get mad. Everyone loses.”

Rumi rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“I took it anyway.”

She sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Alright, we’re taking the shortcut through the sketchy area. Stay close to me, don’t talk to anyone and definitely don’t look weak.”

Matt nodded solemnly. “Roger that, Captain Bunny.”

“Call me that again and I’ll dropkick you into a sewer.”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t be the worst date I’ve had.”

Rumi groaned. “You’re not even trying to be normal.”

“Normal’s overrated.”

They started walking, falling into an unspoken rhythm. Matt let his cane tap along with each step but mostly stayed close to Rumi, hand occasionally brushing her elbow. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Not at first.

It wasn’t an awkward silence.

More like… a truce.

Rumi walked with her hands in her pockets, Matt’s fingers loosely curled around his white cane as they moved through the more rugged streets beyond the station. Paint-tagged walls, shattered windows and dented signs decorated the path ahead. There was a lingering scent of old smoke in the air, the kind that clung to forgotten buildings and broken streetlights.

“Nice place,” Matt said, the sarcasm in his voice subtle but there.

Rumi scanned the area instinctively, posture stiffening. “Yeah. Real scenic.”

“I mean it,” Matt added after a pause, his tone shifting. “Kind of reminds me of home.”

Rumi raised an eyebrow. “You mean that Hellfire Kitchen place?”

“Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Same thing.”

Matt smiled. “Grew up with buildings just like this. Walls tagged up, windows busted. Always someone yelling three blocks away. It’s... familiar.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Rumi muttered. “Only you would find comfort in this dump.”

Matt chuckled under his breath. “Some people take justice into their own hands when the system fails them.”

Rumi blinked, looking at him sideways. “Where did that come from?”

Matt just shrugged, cane tapping the cracked sidewalk ahead. “Observation. These streets have a certain... personality.”

“And you sound like a wannabe philosopher.” She glanced at a nearby wall, painted with an angry red “WE PROTECT US” message in thick strokes. “I bet some wannabe vigilante put that up.”

Matt tilted his head, amused. “Not all heroes wear licenses.”

Rumi stopped walking. “What?”

“What?”

“What’d you just say?”

Matt grinned innocently. “Just a saying.”

Rumi narrowed her eyes. “You’re defending vigilantes now?”

“Just saying technically, the first heroes in history were vigilantes. Didn’t wait for anyone to give them permission.”

“Yeah and a lot of them ended up in jail. Or worse.”

“Some of them saved lives before they got there.”

“You’re stupid,” she said flatly.

The sidewalk beneath their feet shifted from concrete to a more cracked and worn path, dotted with cigarette butts and bottle caps. Rumi walked ahead, one hand in her pocket, the other lazily swinging at her side. Matt followed beside her, cane tapping rhythmically as he listened beyond the surface, distant chatter, the hum of electric wires, a faint church bell echoing from far away.

He smiled. “We’re close.”

Rumi blinked and looked around. “How can you tell?”

Matt didn’t answer. Just kept walking.

People on the sidewalk gave them sidelong glances. Some at Matt’s cane. Some at Rumi’s towering presence and rabbit like posture, alert, always on edge. A kid tugged at his mom’s sleeve to whisper something, pointing. The mom pulled him away.

Rumi muttered under her breath, barely audible.

After a few steps, she asked without turning, “Why’d you help with Izuku?”

Matt tilted his head slightly.

“You know,” she added, awkwardly, “Back at your house. You kinda help... patched things between us. I wasn’t exactly… you know”

He paused before speaking. “I saw two people who cared about each other hurt.”

Rumi didn’t say anything.

“Everyone needs someone to throw them a line now and then.”

That made her glance sideways. For once, she had no comeback.

The silence returned, comfortable.

After another block, she clicked her tongue. “For a guy who talks like that, you really believe in all that church stuff?”

Matt remained calm. “Even when it’s hard.”

Rumi scoffed lightly but there was no venom behind it. “You don’t seem like the holy type.”

He smiled. “That’s fair. But appearances deceive.”

She raised a brow.

Matt added, voice softer now, “Angels don’t always wear halos. And not every devil has horns.”

Rumi blinked.

“My faith,” he said, “isn’t about pretending to be righteous. It’s about knowing I’m not. Needing forgiveness. Wanting to do better.”

The church stood quiet and old, its stone walls worn by time, ivy curling along its edges. The iron gate creaked faintly as Rumi pushed it open. The street noise dulled here, like the world had taken a step back to let silence breathe.

They stopped just inside the gate. The scent of damp stone and candle wax hung in the air.

Rumi glanced at Matt then away. “You really believe in forgiveness, uh?”

He nodded once. “I have to.”

Her eyebrows lifted but she didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve failed,” Matt said. “People. Promises. Myself. A lot. Guilt... it sticks. Faith doesn’t erase it, but it helps me carry it. Helps me keep moving.”

Rumi said nothing. Her fingers flexed at her sides then relaxed. Memories flickered, her own failures, the rage she couldn’t always control, times she’d shut people out, times pride had spoken louder than love.

She let out a breath.

Matt turned his head slightly, sensing her shift but didn’t push.

For a long moment, they stood there, the breeze warm between them. Then Rumi muttered, “I don’t think you’re annoying anymore.”

Matt cracked a soft smirk. “I thought you thought I was weird?”

“I thought you were a liar, annoying and weird.” She looked ahead, voice clearer now. “Now I think you’re... complicated.”

A faint golden glow spilled from the church’s stained-glass windows. Matt tilted his chin toward the heavy wooden doors. “You want to come in?”

Rumi hesitated. “I’m not... religious.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said gently. “It’s just a place. A quiet one.”

She stared at the doors, uncertain.

He waited, unmoving.

Finally, Rumi shrugged. “Fine. But if someone tries to make me sing, I’m punching them.”

Matt chuckled. “Noted.”

Then they stepped inside.