Mumen Rider in MHA

It was early morning in Kamino, still grey and stretching. The alleys hadn't woken up yet. A stray cat darted under a shutter. A delivery bike rumbled past.

Satoru rolled through the quieter backstreets, helmet on, armor dusted with wear. His presence barely drew attention now. He liked it that way.

But as he turned the corner near an old skatepark, he noticed something.

Spray paint.

Big blocky letters, freshly stenciled on the concrete wall behind the half-pipe:

"WE BELIEVE IN HELMET GUY."

Underneath it, someone had drawn a figure—goggles, a bike, that rounded helmet with the stripe down the middle. It was crude. Crooked. But unmistakably him.

He stopped.

Three kids, maybe twelve or thirteen, stood nearby with backpacks and a half-deflated basketball. One of them held a skateboard with a cracked wheel. They went stiff when they saw him.

"Crap," one whispered. "It's him."

The tallest boy stepped forward, trying to look casual but clearly bracing for a scolding.

"We didn't mean anything bad, sir. Just... thought it looked cool."

Satoru lifted his goggles slightly, letting them see his eyes.

"You misspelled 'Helmet.'"

"We did?" the kid blinked.

Satoru chuckled softly. "Nah. Just messing with you."

The smallest one—the skater—stared at him wide-eyed. "You're really him, huh?"

"Some days," Satoru said.

The boy held out a marker. "Wanna sign it?"

He looked at the wall. At the earnest faces. He hesitated—then took the pen.

Just beneath the painted figure, in neat strokes, he wrote:

"Keep standing." — M.R.

He handed the marker back and turned to leave. Then—

"Wait!"

He turned.

The skater tripped over his laces rushing forward, scraping his palm on the pavement.

He hissed. "Ow—damn!"

Satoru crouched immediately, pulling a small first-aid pouch from his armor's side pocket.

"Easy. Let me see."

He cleaned the scrape gently, wrapping it with practiced hands.

"You carry bandages with you?" the kid asked.

"Always."

"Because of all the fighting?"

"Because people fall," he said. "A lot more than you think."

The skater stared at the wrappings, then looked up.

"You're not like other heroes."

Satoru stood. "Yeah. I know."

As he pedaled off, he heard the boy whisper—

"He's real…"