Mumen Rider in MHA

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beep of the heart monitor and the occasional hiss of oxygen.

Satoru stared at the white ceiling, arm bound in a cast, half his torso wrapped in gauze. His jacket had melted in spots, and his gloves were burned through at the palms.

He didn't feel like a hero.

Mostly, he felt tired. The kind of tired that lives in your bones.

The door burst open.

"Are you out of your damn mind?!"

Keiko stood there, in full police uniform, her hat clutched in one trembling hand, her face pale with worry and rage.

Satoru blinked. "Hey, Kei—"

She marched to the side of his bed and smacked the blanket over his legs. "You ran into a burning building?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"I got them out," he said quietly.

"You got second -degree burns!" she shot back. "You could've died, Satoru. Do you even think about what would happen to Mom? To me?"

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Satoru swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes.

"I couldn't just stand there," he whispered.

Keiko turned away, pressing a hand to her face.

"I know," she said after a long pause. "That's the problem."

There was a knock at the door.

Keiko wiped her eyes quickly and turned. Her voice returned to a more professional register.

"Who is it?"

The door opened. Aizawa stepped in, expression unreadable, hair a mess, scarf tucked under his coat.

"Oh," Keiko muttered. "You."

Aizawa gave her a glance, then focused on Satoru.

"You really don't know when to stop," he said, walking to the foot of the bed.

Satoru smiled weakly. "Hello to you too."

"You disobeyed police orders. Entered an unstable structure without clearance. Endangered your life and two others by acting alone."

Keiko opened her mouth, clearly about to agree, but Aizawa held up a hand to silence her.

Satoru shrugged one shoulder. "But I got them out."

Aizawa was quiet for a long moment.

"You could've died."

"I knew that. I went in anyway."

"You think that's brave?"

"I think it was necessary."

More silence. Keiko stood by the wall, arms folded, her expression softening.

Aizawa pulled something from his coat—two objects wrapped in a paper bag.

He placed them beside Satoru's bed: a bottle of electrolyte water and a new pair of gloves.

"Your old ones are useless," he muttered.

Satoru blinked. "Are you... bribing me into not dying?"

"Don't get used to it."

Keiko raised an eyebrow. "Is this how pros encourage minors to throw themselves into fires?"

Aizawa shot her a look. "No. This is how pros acknowledge someone who saved two lives."

He turned to leave, pausing only once at the door.

"You did good. But next time... call for backup."

The door clicked shut.

Satoru stared at the gloves.

Keiko came back to his side, sitting heavily in the chair.

"Next time," she muttered, taking his hand, "just come home in one piece, okay?"

He squeezed her fingers back, and smiled faintly.