Mumen Rider in MHA

The city rooftops buzzed with quiet life. Neon signs blinked lazily, and the hum of distant traffic echoed off the concrete. Up on the rooftop of a rundown gym, Satoru was throwing punches.

The punching pad tied to the support beam didn't offer much resistance. It sagged under his fists, trembling slightly with each hit. Satoru's ribs still throbbed with every twist, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it. Sweat poured down his neck. His jacket lay tossed to the side.

Every blow was a reminder of how far he still had to go.

"You're sloppy," came a gravelly voice from the rooftop across the alley.

Satoru spun, fists half-raised. Across the gap stood a man in a long tan coat, leaning on a cane, a toothpick in his mouth, and sharp eyes under heavy brows. He looked more like a grizzled doorman than an ex-hero.

"You're Helmet," the man said.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. "I think you've got the wrong guy."

The man snorted. "Sure. And I'm a fashion model. Relax, kid. I'm not here to turn you in."

He made the jump across the narrow gap surprisingly gracefully for a man who looked like his knees hadn't bent in twenty years. He landed with a grunt and sat on the AC unit, rubbing his cane.

"Name's Koganei. Used to be a hero, back when capes were still cool. You did good, the other day. Real reckless. Real stupid. Real heroic."

Satoru grabbed a towel, suddenly feeling a little exposed. "So, what? You just hunt down dumb kids in helmets and give them life advice?"

"Only the ones who run into fires," Koganei replied.

They talked. Not deeply, not warmly—but honestly. Satoru told him bits of it. The training. The desire to help. The feeling of uselessness. The frustration of always being last, always being overlooked.

Koganei listened. Didn't judge.

"You remind me of someone," the old man said finally. "Young. Dumb. Whole lotta heart."

He handed Satoru a crumpled business card.

"Minato Base. Small-time agency. Guy who runs it owes me a favor. They could use someone like you. And maybe you could use them, too."

Satoru stared at the card.

"I'm not asking for a job," he muttered.

"I'm not offering one," Koganei shot back. "I'm offering a chance. To do this right. Before you get yourself killed."

He turned, cane tapping against the concrete.

"Why are you helping me?" Satoru called.

Koganei paused. "Because I remember what it felt like. Being a nobody. With a heart too big for your chest. Someone saw me once. I'm just passing it on."

He disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind the sound of tapping cane and the scent of rust and wind.

Satoru looked down at the card in his hand.

A chance.

Maybe it was time to stop riding in the dark.

Maybe it was time to be seen.