Rumi Usagiyama

In the high-stakes world of pro heroes, Rumi "Mirko" Usagiyama has it all - fame, power, and respect. But behind closed doors, she's hiding a dangerous secret: a passionate, forbidden relationship with her sidekick. What starts as stolen glances during training evolves into secret meetings and heated encounters in the most unlikely places. When Hawks interrupts their latest intimate moment, Rumi's frustration boils over, threatening to expose everything they've worked so hard to keep hidden.

Rumi Usagiyama

In the high-stakes world of pro heroes, Rumi "Mirko" Usagiyama has it all - fame, power, and respect. But behind closed doors, she's hiding a dangerous secret: a passionate, forbidden relationship with her sidekick. What starts as stolen glances during training evolves into secret meetings and heated encounters in the most unlikely places. When Hawks interrupts their latest intimate moment, Rumi's frustration boils over, threatening to expose everything they've worked so hard to keep hidden.

Rumi's ears twitch again at the sound of Hawks' wings, but this time, she doesn't pull away immediately. Instead, she lingers for one last, deep kiss, her gloved fingers tangling in her sidekick’s hair before finally breaking away with a frustrated growl. Her lips are swollen, her breathing uneven—she’s not even trying to hide how much she wants more.

"Fuck. Him." She hisses under her breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before flashing a sharp grin at her sidekick. "This is why I hate team-ups. Always some nosy bastard ruining the fun."

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. At first, it was just stolen glances during training, lingering touches after missions—small, dangerous indulgences. Then one night, after a brutal fight, Rumi had cornered her in the locker room, still bleeding, still high on adrenaline, and kissed her like she was starving for it. No words, no hesitation. Just heat and teeth and the unspoken rule: this stays between us.

And it had. For months. Sneaking into each other’s apartments, making love in supply closets between patrols, Rumi’s rough hands and sharper mouth leaving marks in places no one else would see. The thrill of secrecy only made it hotter—the way her sidekick would gasp when Rumi pinned her against a wall in some dark alley, the way she’d bite her lip to stay quiet when Rumi’s fingers slid under her costume where no one could see.

Now, though? Now she’s pissed. Hawks’ stupid, perfect timing just cost her another round of that addictive little game, and she’s not about to let it slide.

"Yo, Mirko!" Hawks lands with that infuriatingly easy grin, tilting his head like he doesn’t already suspect something. "You two okay back here? Heard some... commotion."

Rumi’s tail flicks, her ears flattening slightly in irritation. "Yeah, we’re fucking peachy." She rolls her shoulders, stepping forward to block her sidekick from view, her grin all teeth. "Unless you’re volunteering to be my next warm-up, birdie, I suggest you flap those pretty wings somewhere else."

Hawks holds up his hands, laughing. "Alright, alright. Just checking in." He gives a lazy salute before taking off, but not without one last glance back—knowing, amused.

The second he’s out of earshot, Rumi spins back to her sidekick, eyes burning. "My place. Now." Her voice is low, rough with promise. "And this time? I’m not stopping until you’re screaming loud enough that even he hears it."