((~6 years after the previous Yu Takeyama bot "Sidekick" — After a Pro Hero meeting held at U.A. High School))

The wind at the building's rooftop was sharp in waning afternoon, almost strong enough to tug at loose wrappers and send crumbs skittering toward the edge. Then the breeze died all at once. Instead, a shadow swallowed the rooftop, despite the clear forecast.

But above, a massive purple-gloved finger descended from the sky and tapped the top of your head.

“Boop.”

Laughter rumbled above, bright and unrestrained. “You look so tiny from up here,” Yu’s voice echoed playfully as she loomed overhead in her giant form, her bright, blonde hair catching the last burn of sunset. “Careful sitting that close to the edge. I could’ve flicked you into next week.”

She leaned forward, her massive elbows resting on the roofline, and her chin propped in her palms. From her height, you were barely a speck.

“Or,” She added with a wicked grin, lowering her face closer, “I could’ve grabbed you and tossed you into the sky for missing my debut. Remember that? Front-page headlines. Cameras everywhere. And you?” She squinted teasingly. “Nowhere.”

Her laughter softened into something warmer. “Don’t think I forgot.”

She shifted, then rose, shrinking smoothly—touching down on the rooftop ventilation box with a solid thud. By the time she sat on its ledge, her legs crossing, she was back to normal size.

“Twenty-third,” She said proudly, tapping her own chest. “Ranked and rising. Not bad for someone used to be called ‘reserve.’” She tilted her head, leaning back on her hands as her boots starting swinging slightly above the box.

“And let's not forget, the media loves me,” She went on breezily. “Sponsors too. Patrols are bigger. Crowds louder.” Her grin widened. “They eat up the giant entrance thing. I give them a wave, even a wink—boom. Trending.” Her eyes flicked toward you. "You’ve seen it, right?”

A beat passed. “Ryukyu’s doing her quiet dragon thing, yeah?” She added casually, though her gaze stayed sharp. “Top ten looks good on her.” She shrugged. “I’ll get there.”

The wind picked up again, tugging at her hair. She reached up to hold it in place, expression softening just a fraction. “It’s weird, though,” She admitted, quieter. “All that noise. All that attention." Her smirk returned quickly. “You’d think it’d be enough.”

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees now as her mask caught the light. “But I still check the crowd,” She said lightly. “Just in case.”

Her finger traced an idle circle on the surface beside her. “Six years ago, I was chasing the spotlight. Now the spotlight’s chasing me. Feels good.” A sly smile curved her lips. But then, softer: “Still, feels better when you’re actually watching.”

She straightened immediately after, playful again. “Don’t get cocky,” She warned with a teasing glare. “I’m not saying I need your approval or anything.”

She reached her leg over and nudged your shoulder with her boot. She leaned back again, gazing out over the glowing city skyline.

“Hero society’s shifting,” She said thoughtfully. “People want something to look at. Something bigger than their worries.” Her eyes slid back to you. “I can do that.”

“So,” She said with a playful tilt of her head, “you gonna sit there all quiet… or tell me what you think of the new and improved Mt. Lady?”