Mumen Rider in MHA

Hospital, 4th Floor. Nurses' Wing.

The TV screen flickers with static as emergency drones reposition in Kamino. A clearer view sharpens into focus: rubble, flames, broken towers—and a boy with no powers still standing between a monster and the innocent.

Sayaka grips the counter, white-knuckled.

Her heart has been pounding for minutes, but now it feels like it might tear through her chest.

She watches as Satoru spits blood into the dirt and lifts his fists again.

His helmet is gone.

His goggles shattered.

His eyes... they're still clear.

"No… No, no, no…"

She turns away, then turns back again. Can't look. Can't stop.

---

Flashback – A Month Ago. Hospital Rooftop.

Satoru sat on a bench in his patched hoodie and dusty armor, one knee bouncing. Sayaka handed him a carton of orange peel tea.

"What if I'm never enough?" he asked.

"Then you rest," she replied. "You let someone else carry it for a while."

"What if no one does?"

She had stared at him.

Long and quiet.

"Then we break together. And we heal together."

---

Present

She slams the nurse station's desk.

Papers scatter. A junior nurse flinches nearby.

"Why won't you stay down, idiot?! You've already done enough!"

The elderly patient down the hall—the one Satoru always brought oranges to—turns up his volume.

Onscreen, AFO swipes at Satoru again. Satoru ducks. Just barely.

His knee buckles. His jaw clenches. His blood hits the ground again.

And again—

He rises.

---

Miyako's POV.

Miyako doesn't cry easily.

She didn't cry when her grandmother left. Didn't cry when the flower shop nearly shut down last year.

But now, her eyes sting.

Her lunch is untouched on her lap. The phone in her hand buzzes with messages:

– "Is that him?!"

– "Tell me it's not Satoru."

– "Is he actually quirkless?!"

She doesn't answer.

She watches as he throws himself into that monster.

Her hand curls tightly around the tiny flower charm she once gave him.

"Please don't let this be goodbye..."

---

Sayaka's POV, Hallway phone booth.

She dials Keiko.

No answer.

She tries again. Once. Twice.

On the third try—

"Hello?"

"Satoru—"

Then—

"I know. I've been watching."

Sayaka's voice cracks.

"He's going to die, Keiko."

Silence on the other end.

"He's not a hero. He's a kid. He still gets nosebleeds when it's cold. He forgets his umbrella on rainy days. He falls asleep sitting up in waiting rooms…"

"I know."

"He... He eats chips like they're a food group. He still checks his mom's pulse every night just to be sure—"

"I know."

Sayaka swallows the lump in her throat.

"Then why won't someone save him for once?"

---

Keiko's POV

Keiko holds the phone to her chest, crying quietly.

The screen glows in front of her.

Onscreen, Satoru takes another hit.

Falls.

And then—he moves again.

---

Kamino, Present

AFO laughs, frustrated.

"What do you think you're proving, boy?! That pain can carry purpose? That suffering makes you a hero?!"

Satoru wipes blood from his lip.

"I'm proving… that even a nobody can protect someone."

"Even me."

---

Sayaka POV

She slides down the wall of the breakroom, phone against her chest.

She whispers to no one.

"Come home, Satoru. Just come home."