Mumen Rider in MHA

Satoru sat on the edge of the rooftop, fingers curling and uncurling around the envelope in his lap.

It was heavier than it should be. Just paper. Just words.

But it felt like something more.

Below, the streets bustled quietly. Bicycles. Vendors. People going about their lives without knowing how close they'd come to never seeing tomorrow again. How many days he'd stood between them and something awful. Quietly. Invisibly.

He opened the envelope.

Inside was a laminated card with his name on it.

"Provisional Hero Support Identification"

Name: Satoru [REDACTED]

Affiliated Agency: Minato Base Hero Co.

Not a license.

Not recognition.

But legal clearance to act under supervision. A beginning.

He let out a slow breath.

---

Back at Minato Base, the office was still a mess of flickering lights, takeout boxes, and dented filing cabinets. Three pro heroes operated out of it: tired, underfunded, but genuinely kind people.

Captain Tomura grinned when he handed Satoru the card. "Took a lot of strings to pull this off, you know. Most kids your age just cram for exams."

Satoru bowed deeply. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

"We're not giving you anything, Helmet Kid. You earned it."

One of the sidekicks piped up from a desk nearby. "Try not to get yourself set on fire again, though. Budget doesn't cover hospital flowers."

Laughter echoed.

Satoru smiled faintly, cradling the ID.

---

That evening, the sky turned dusky lavender as he unlocked his bike outside the agency.

He clipped the card into the inside of his jacket, tucked behind the chest padding. Not flashy. Not visible.

But it was there.

He adjusted his helmet. Checked the wheels. Slung on his bag.

Then, with a creak and a click, he began pedaling forward.

---

In another part of the city:

Kana Fujimura leaned on the railing outside her apartment balcony, watching traffic with her chin in her hand.

Down on the street, a familiar figure rode past—wobbly, clumsy, but determined. The same patched-up jacket. The same stupid helmet.

She rolled her eyes.

"He really thinks he's a hero, huh?"

Still, she didn't turn away until he disappeared around the corner.

---

In a different rooftop shadow:

Aizawa sipped cold coffee and stared out at the skyline.

He hadn't said anything when he saw the news leak about the "Helmet Hero." He didn't comment when Keiko stormed through the station demanding silence from the press. He didn't show up at Minato Base.

But he saw the kid. Quietly. From a distance.

A breath of wind passed.

"He's gonna break," Aizawa murmured. "But not yet."

He finished the coffee and tossed the cup away.

"Not yet."

---

Satoru stood in the alley behind the flower shop.

He looked up at the stars.

Then down at his gloved hands.

He whispered:

> "Even if no one sees me—I'll keep pedaling.