An hour later, the rooftop felt different.
No more casual clothes. No more teasing.
Under the pale glow of the moon, they stood transformed.
Izuku's hero suit hugged his frame perfectly, the dark metallic weave faintly reflecting city lights. The design was minimalist—no cape, no excess fabric—just clean lines and reinforced joints built for speed and impact. Subtle emerald threading traced along his forearms and calves, catching light when he moved. Efficient. Tactical.
Godlike, in its simplicity.
Beside him stood Mirko in her unmistakable hero costume—white bodysuit, high-cut and battle-ready, thighs wrapped in protective bands, boots reinforced for devastating kicks. Her long white hair was tied high into a fierce ponytail, ears twitching sharply as she stretched.
Crack.
Her knee popped audibly as she rolled her ankle.
"From now on," she said without looking at him, "call me Mirko. We're on duty."
Izuku adjusted his gloves, flexing his fingers once. "Got it."
He glanced over the edge of the rooftop. Shibuya pulsed beneath them—neon signs, late-night crowds, distant sirens. Alive.
"So where do we begin?" he asked calmly.
Mirko crouched low instead of answering. Her red eyes narrowed. Her ears twitched—once, twice—rotating slightly like radar dishes locking onto frequency.
Izuku watched closely. She wasn't just listening casually. She was filtering.
Car engines. Footsteps. Laughter. A bottle breaking three streets away. A shouted argument. A metallic door slamming.
Her focus sharpened.
Izuku folded his arms, amused. His own hearing could stretch far beyond this district—he could hear heartbeats miles away if he wanted to—but he stayed quiet.
'Let's see where she goes first,' he thought.
Then—
Her eyes snapped open.
"Got something," she said. "West side. Two blocks. Fast."
Without hesitation, Mirko leaped off the rooftop.
She didn't fall—she launched.
Her body cut through the air in a clean arc before she landed lightly in the alley below and broke into a sprint. Not reckless. Controlled ferocity.
Izuku stepped forward and dropped after her.
He landed beside her effortlessly, matching her pace without strain. Their boots struck pavement in rhythmic synchronization as they tore through narrow streets, vaulting dumpsters and scaling fire escapes without slowing.
They reached the top of a building across from a bank in under twenty seconds.
Below—
A black van idled crookedly near the entrance.
Masked individuals rushed in and out of the bank carrying heavy duffel bags.
Gold bars glinted under streetlights.
Izuku blinked.
'Banks still carry gold here. That's wild.'
Mirko didn't hesitate. She launched from the rooftop again.
BOOM!
She landed directly on the van's roof. Metal screamed and bent under the force, caving inward beneath her boots.
The robbers froze.
"F-Fuck! A Hero!"
"Keep loading! I'll handle her!" one of them shouted, stepping forward.
He vaulted onto the van roof to face her. He tried to smirk. "If it isn't Mirko—listen—"
He never finished.
She vanished.
BAM!
Her fist connected with his face so hard the sound echoed down the street like a gunshot. His body snapped sideways mid-sentence and launched off the van.
CRASH!
He flew into a tree on the sidewalk and dropped limp. Silence. Izuku watched from above, hands in pockets.
'Damn,' he thought, impressed. 'She does not play.'
Below, the remaining robbers panicked.
"Shoot her!"
Gunfire erupted.
Bullets sparked uselessly against Mirko's boots as she leaped into the air again. She spun mid-air, heel glowing faintly under moonlight.
WHAM!
Her kick smashed one robber into the bank doors.
CRACK!
Another went down from a spinning backfist.
One tried to flee with a duffel bag.
Izuku sighed.
He stepped off the rooftop. He didn't rush. He simply dropped. He landed behind the fleeing robber without a sound.
The man turned— Too late. Izuku tapped his shoulder lightly. The robber blinked. Then Izuku flicked him in the forehead.
BOP.
The man flew forward like he'd been hit by a truck, sliding across pavement before coming to a stop unconscious.
Izuku adjusted his glove. Mirko glanced over mid-combo and smirked.
"Took your sweet time."
"I was observing," he replied calmly.
She launched one final kick that folded the van's side door inward like paper. The remaining robbers dropped their weapons instantly. Within minutes, sirens wailed in the distance.
Mirko stood on the wrecked van roof again, hands on her hips, chest rising steadily.
Izuku stood beside her. Police vehicles screeched to a stop. Officers stared wide-eyed at the destruction.
One whispered, "They handled all of them already…?"
Mirko jumped down casually.
"Bag 'em," she said. "They were sloppy."
Izuku scanned the street. Clean. Mirko walked past him, shoulder bumping his lightly.
"Well?" she asked. "Still think you can keep up?"
Izuku smiled faintly.
"I wasn't trying yet."
Her ears twitched.
"Oh?" she said, eyes gleaming. "Good. I'd hate for this to get boring."
Sirens filled the air behind them as they stepped into the night again. The patrol had just begun. And the city was far from quiet.
---
Hours later, the chaos had faded into memory.
The police had cleared the scene. The streets had settled. The neon lights of Shibuya hummed softly instead of screaming.
Izuku and Mirko now sat side by side on the edge of a high-rise, boots dangling over open air. The city sprawled endlessly before them—skyscrapers glowing, trains sliding like silver threads between buildings, the distant rhythm of nightlife still pulsing below.
The wind tugged gently at Mirko's white hair and brushed against Izuku's suit, cooling the last traces of sweat from patrol.
"We did a great job tonight," Izuku said finally, breaking the silence. His voice wasn't boastful—just satisfied.
Mirko leaned back on her palms, stretching her legs slightly. "Yeah," she agreed. "Clean, efficient. No civilians hurt. No one escaped. That's a solid patrol."
Her ears twitched once as she glanced sideways at him.
"Honestly?" she added. "You surprised me."
Izuku tilted his head. "Oh?"
"You're sharp. You don't just react—you predict. You watch patterns. You don't overcommit. That's rare." She studied him carefully. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
He shrugged lightly" I used to go to this dojo until a year ago after that. I just watched a lot of videos online. Martial arts breakdowns. Pro fight footage. Street brawl recordings. Then I practiced. Every day."
She blinked.
"…That's it?"
"Pretty much."
She let out a low whistle. "You're telling me you built that level of hand-to-hand from a small Dojo, YouTube and repetition?"
He grinned sheepishly. "When you don't have formal training, you improvise."
Mirko laughed, shaking her head. "That's insane. You move like someone who's been drilled by a master since childhood."
He didn't answer that. Instead, he leaned back slightly, staring out at the skyline.
Below them, traffic lights changed colors like a silent rhythm. Somewhere far away, a siren wailed faintly, then faded.
Mirko nudged him lightly with her elbow.
"What?" she said. "Not used to compliments?"
He smirked. "It's not that."
She raised a brow.
"It's just… hearing it from the beautiful Mirko hits different."
There was a pause.
Then— Her ears twitched sharply. A faint pink dusted her cheeks before she quickly masked it with a grin.
"Ohhh?" she said, leaning closer, eyes glinting. "So I've got a fanboy for an intern now?"
"Maybe," he replied calmly.
She laughed. "Careful, kid. I might start charging you for proximity."
He chuckled. "Worth it."
She bumped his shoulder harder this time.
"Smooth," she muttered. "Too smooth for your age."
They both laughed, the sound carried away by the wind. For a few quiet seconds, neither spoke. Mirko's expression softened slightly as she looked out over the city.
"You know," she said more quietly, "most interns come in trying to prove something. They rush. They overdo it. They want headlines."
She glanced at him.
"You didn't."
Izuku's gaze remained forward.
"I don't need headlines," he replied simply.
Her ears flicked thoughtfully.
"…You're aiming for something bigger, aren't you?"
He smiled faintly.
"Maybe."
The breeze picked up, sweeping across the rooftop and making their costumes ripple slightly.
Below them, the city glowed—alive, unaware of the two figures perched above it.
Mirko stood up first, stretching her back.
"Alright, philosopher," she said. "Break time's over. Patrol's not done just because it got quiet."
Izuku stood smoothly beside her.
"Lead the way."
She crouched, preparing to leap—
Then paused.
"Hey, One."
He glanced at her.
"You're strong," she said bluntly. "But don't let that make you complacent. Strength's nothing if your instincts get dull."
He nodded once. "Understood."
She grinned again, sharp and fierce."Good."
And with that—
She launched into the night once more. Izuku followed. Two silhouettes cutting across moonlight. The city beneath them unaware— That above its skyline, A rabbit and a god-in-the-making were running patrol together.
TO BE CONTINUED