?Kendo stopped at the end of the white corridor, standing before the hospital room door.
?A rhythmic mechanical beeping leaked from beyond it. The doctor’s warning weighed heavy on her chest.
?“She wishes to meet alone. But she’s in a very unstable mental state. If the patient shows any abnormal reaction, please contact us immediately.”
?Kendo’s fingers curled slightly. The hand resting on the doorknob felt cold.
?“Mirko… it’s Kendo.”
?She paused.
?“May I come in?”
?No answer.
?Silence seeped out from the room, stretching down the corridor. Kendo steadied her breath and slowly pushed the door open. A faint creak broke the stillness. Her footfalls were light, deliberate.
?“Excuse me…”
?The door closed softly behind her, and sealing her inside with the silence.
?Inside, the room was perfectly arranged—every detail prepared for Mirko’s comfort. On one side, soft bedding lay neatly folded. Across from it stood a refrigerator stocked with carrots, protein drinks, and all the foods she used to love.
?By the window stood rows of flower wreaths and gift baskets, each bearing a bright message:
?“Congratulations on the Rabbit Hero’s return.”
?They were tokens of genuine care—yet the scene felt strangely still.
?In one corner sat a pair of light dumbbells, a stretching band, and a small treadmill. It felt like a space whispering, “You can run again anytime.”
?But Mirko stood by the window, gazing at the distant sky.
?Her shoulders were stiff, her rabbit ears drooping with a faint tremor. Sunlight streamed through the glass, spilling across the white floor, casting her long shadow within it.
?Kendo stood by the door, unable to speak. The hero before her still looked like someone who had never left the battlefield.
?Mirko turned slowly to face her.
?In her hospital gown, she seemed outwardly fine. Beneath the thin fabric, faint lines of muscle shaped her restored limbs—the physique of a legendary hero, rebuilt to perfection.
?But her face told another story.
?Her eyes were sunken, heavy with exhaustion, her lips pressed into a tight line. Her ears hung low at her shoulders, trembling softly. The fierce smile that once lit up the battlefield was gone.
?In its place was the face of someone who had survived the fight—but hadn’t found her way back yet.
?Kendo drew a quiet breath before speaking.
?“I heard from President Hawks.”
?Mirko gave a slow nod. “Yeah… I know I can trust you.”
?A short silence fell between them. Mirko’s gaze drifted somewhere beyond the window.
?“Be careful,” she said softly. “There’s a girl out there who’s only just found her happiness again… You’ll protect that, won’t you?”
?Kendo lowered her head. Her voice wavered slightly.
?“…I will. I promise.”
?For a long moment, Mirko couldn’t speak. When she finally did, her voice came out thin and dry—like a breath that hurt just to release.
?“Eri…”
?Her throat tightened.
?“She never wanted me to end up like this… not like this.”
?Tears welled in her crimson eyes. She didn’t even lift a hand to wipe them away—just stared into the distance as her voice trembled low.
?“When she sees me like this… she’ll blame herself for it, won’t she?”
?Her breathing faltered slightly.
?“She’s already such a wounded child…”
?Her shoulders sank, ever so slightly. Her rabbit ears gave a slow, faint tremor. She couldn’t even cry properly, simply lowering her head in silence.
?Kendo steadied her breath and took a slow step closer. Her voice was cautious, yet warm.
?“About Eri…”
?Mirko’s shoulders stirred, the faintest movement.
?“Jiro said she performed at an outdoor concert a few days ago,” Kendo continued softly. “She’s been smiling every single day—brightly.”
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?A small smile touched Kendo’s lips.
?“I saw the pictures too. She was wearing… a cute little rabbit hairpin.”
?Silence followed. The tears that had gathered at Mirko’s lashes finally slipped free.
?“...Really?”
?Kendo nodded. “And she’s been praying—for your happiness, Mirko.”
?Mirko couldn’t answer. She only brushed the corner of her eye with her fingertips.
?Sunlight crept back into the room through the window. Mirko’s gaze drifted down to Kendo’s hand—to the white bandage wrapped around her knuckles.
?“Is your hand okay?”
?Kendo let out a small, surprised laugh.
?“Oh, this? It’s fine! It’s nothing serious, but the doctor insisted on wrapping it up. Really—such an overreaction, don’t you think?”
?She forced a smile, quietly hiding her hand behind her back. Mirko’s eyes followed the movement. Her lips moved with effort.
?“…I’m sorry. Because of me.”
?Kendo shook her head firmly. “Please don’t say that.”
?A soft silence filled the space between them. Then Kendo spoke again, her tone gentle.
?“These things happen between heroes. And besides… it’s thanks to that we can talk like this again, isn’t it?”
?Mirko didn’t answer, but the tension around her eyes eased just a little. Her rabbit ears gave a faint twitch. She turned toward the window, her voice barely above a whisper.
?“The other two… they must’ve been terrified.”
?Kendo nodded quietly. “Pony and…”
?Mirko’s voice trailed off. She hesitated for a long moment before forcing out the next word.
?“…Komori.”
?The moment she spoke the name, Mirko’s gaze wavered violently. Her rabbit ears twitched once, then folded back tight against her head. She pressed a hand to her forehead.
?“No… no, that’s not it…”
?Her breath came out uneven and ragged. Kendo moved closer without a word and gently took her hand, steadying it in her own. Mirko’s fingers trembled faintly, then went still. Her heavy, uneven breaths began to slow. Her rabbit ears unfolded again, little by little.
?Kendo didn’t let go. She simply watched her for a moment before speaking, her voice cautious and low.
?“Just now… did you hear Shigaraki’s voice?”
?Mirko’s shoulders gave the slightest tremor. She let out a shaky breath and nodded.
?“…Yeah.”
?Her gaze dropped slowly to the floor.
?“There was a time—when the hallucinations hit hard. After that… they stopped. No voices, no visions.”
?A quiet pause followed. Mirko laced her fingers together and went on.
?“So I thought… I was fine. But after this mission—”
?She hesitated.
?“No… it started during the mission itself.”
?Her head bowed, as if the words themselves were too heavy.
?“They’re getting more vivid. Stronger.”
?Kendo’s eyes wavered. “…What is he saying?”
?Mirko’s lips tightened.
?“That I lost,” she said quietly. “He keeps laughing at me.”
?Her fingers brushed the edge of her ear, as if trying to catch the whisper itself.
?“He keeps whispering it… right next to my ear.”
?Kendo caught her breath. The air in the room settled heavy around them.
?Mirko slowly rolled up both sleeves. The muscle beneath flushed with red as it caught the light—arms perfectly restored. Yet her eyes looked at them as though they weren’t hers anymore.
?“That voice…” Her tone trembled low. “It turns my arms back into prosthetics. It makes my leg… mechanical again.”
?Her fingers closed around nothing. Her rabbit ears gave a faint shiver.
?“These arms, these legs… it feels like they’re going cold again—just like back then.”
?She lowered her head. Her hands fell slowly onto her knees. Kendo held her breath. Mirko’s pupils quivered faintly.
?“I know this isn’t real,” she whispered. “But… I can still feel it. Like I’m trapped there, even now.”
?Kendo reached out a hand. But between them lay a wound made of memory—one she still couldn’t touch.
?Mirko let out a thin laugh—one without any strength.
?“When I first lost my limbs, I didn’t think much of it,” she said. “I told myself… it was just part of being a hero.”
?Her gaze drifted far away, as if chasing something she’d already lost.
?“As soon as I recovered, I went back into the field—hunting down the remnants of All For One.”
?A shaky breath escaped her, followed by a dry chuckle.
?“The whole world cheered for me. ‘Bunny the Weapon.’ That nickname… I wore it like a badge of pride.”
?She slowly raised both hands. Her fingertips trembled faintly.
?“The latest prosthetics made me even stronger. Cannons, vulcan cannons, railguns… I kept switching combinations and kept fighting.”
?Silence held for a moment.
?“It didn’t hurt back then…” Her voice grew lower and lower. “But now, standing here again in this whole body… why does it—”
?The words trailed off. Her lips parted, then closed again. Mirko let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Only the corners of her mouth lifted; her eyes stayed heavy and still.
?“The residue of that bastard still inside me… it’s what’s breaking me now.”
?She lowered her head.
?“When he was alive… I wasn’t afraid. Not even once.”
?A short, breathless laugh slipped out.
?“He’s been dead for so long… and yet he’s still dragging me down.”
?Her rabbit ears gave a slow tremor. Kendo caught her breath. Mirko’s voice fell lower, carrying a weariness deeper than any battle.
?“Ridiculous, isn’t it…? He’s gone, and yet I’m still trapped here.”
?Mirko turned slowly toward the corner of the room, where the training bench stood. The steel frame caught the fading sunset in a cold gleam. She tapped the edge lightly—tap, tap—with the tips of her fingers.
?“If the enemy were something I could see… I’d just beat it down.”
?A small laugh slipped out. It wasn’t mockery, nor surrender—just a sound to keep herself steady. She set her hands down on the bench. Her fingers tightened, then slackened.
?“…I don’t even know how to fight this.”
?Silence.
?“No…”
?“I don’t even know if I can.”
?Kendo said nothing. From behind, she watched the back before her—and the hollow resolve that lingered beyond it.
?Mirko kept her hands on the bench, letting out a short, hollow laugh.
?“To think I’ve become… this weak.”
?Her voice was low, drained of anger or sorrow—only the kind of empty sigh that comes from someone who’s endured too long.
?The light outside faded completely; darkness filled the room.
?Kendo watched her in silence. That silence—it spoke more than any words could. She moved slowly, step by step, until she stood beside Mirko by the training bench. Then, carefully, she reached out and laid her hand gently over Mirko’s hand, resting on the cold metal.
?Kendo drew in a quiet breath before speaking.
?“…You haven’t weakened. You’ve become human.”
?Her voice was low, but steady.
?“All this time, you endured like a weapon built to fight. What you’re feeling now… it means you’re alive.”
?Mirko turned her head slowly. Outside, the moon was rising. Its pale light touched her eyes, flickering once before settling into stillness.
?Kendo stepped closer.
?“You’re not weaker,” she said softly. “You’ve just come close enough… to feel pain again.”
?A gentle smile touched Kendo’s lips.
?“You’re still a hero. That’s never changed, not once.”
?Her words faded into the quiet. Moonlight filled the room. In that glow, Mirko looked like a moon rabbit—bathed in silver light.
?Her eyes closed slowly. Her breathing came calm and deep. And for the first time in a long while, she exhaled—softly.
?Kendo drew a steady breath, then spoke carefully.
?“Would you like to talk with Shiozaki Ibara?”
?Mirko’s gaze shifted slowly to the side. “…Vine?”
?Kendo nodded.
?“Yes. She’s working in counseling support now. She’s sincere and compassionate, and heroes with heavy hearts often go to her.”
?She paused for a moment, then added quietly.
?“She has… a way of easing people’s hearts.”
?Mirko said nothing. She only lifted her head, looking at the night sky beyond the window. Moonlight slid down the ends of her white hair.
?After a long silence, her shoulders sank—just slightly.
?That small movement was an answer in itself. Even in the cold night air, there was the faintest hint of a path beginning to open through the long darkness she’d carried.