Mumen Rider in MHA

The Hero Public Safety Commission didn't use a courtroom. They didn't need to.

It was a white-walled chamber—bright, sterile, polished floors, no windows. A place that felt more like an operating room than a space for justice. Nothing bloomed here.

Satoru Kojima sat stiffly in his chair, gloved hands folded in his lap. His new armor had been cleaned, helmet in his bag, untouched. He didn't wear it here. Not today.

The room was filled with pro heroes, support agents, and a few commission officials. Most of them older. None of them familiar.

A panel of five commissioners sat elevated at the front. One of them—a narrow-eyed man with a scar down his cheek—tapped his pen once, then again.

> "Mr. Kojima," he said, voice cool. "You've been summoned due to your unauthorized interference during an active pro-hero operation in Ward 6. Do you understand the charges?"

Satoru nodded. "Yes."

Another commissioner, a silver-haired woman, leaned forward. "According to surveillance footage, you were first on scene. You engaged before backup arrived. Is that correct?"

> "There was a civilian pinned under debris. Screaming. I didn't have time to wait."

There was a pause. One of the panelists sighed.

> "That's precisely the issue."

---

In the back of the room, Keiko sat with her arms crossed, jaw tight. She had worn her uniform, her hair tied back. Sharp. Unapologetic.

Miyako sat beside her, clutching a folded letter in her bag—too nervous to speak, but here all the same.

And just a little behind them sat Aizawa, uninvited but undeniable. Hood down, arms folded. He hadn't spoken. Just watched.

---

Sayaka arrived late, heels clicking with purpose. She handed a folded envelope to a clerk outside the door.

> "Statement from Minato General," she said, then added:

"And from me."

The clerk blinked. "You're not on the witness list—"

> "You are now."

---

Back inside, the questioning dragged.

The commission members recited phrases like doctrine:

> "Structure matters."

"Authority must be respected."

"There are rules in place for a reason."

Satoru stayed calm. His answers were quiet. Honest.

Until one commissioner snapped:

> "What gave you the right to act like a pro?"

Silence.

Satoru looked up. Finally. Steadily.

> "I didn't think about being a pro," he said. "I thought about the people dying."

---

There was a shift in the room.

The silver-haired woman narrowed her eyes. "And if you'd died, Mr. Kojima? What then?"

> "Then at least I did something that mattered."

The panel exchanged glances.

Then the scarred commissioner leaned back.

> "We've received character testimonies," he muttered. "A pro hero from U.A., a support student, a nurse from Minato General…"

He flipped through the papers. "Some… glowing. Others deeply concerned about your recklessness."

Satoru waited. No excuses. No apologies.

---

Finally, the panel stood.

> "We'll deliberate. You may wait outside."

Satoru rose, bowed briefly, and left the chamber.

---

Outside, the hallway was filled with quiet tension.

Keiko was the first to reach him. "You did fine."

He nodded, but said nothing.

Miyako stepped forward next. Slowly. Carefully.

> "I… I wrote a letter. About you. I hope that's okay…"

He blinked, surprised. "You did?"

She nodded, then held it out. "Even if they don't read it… I just wanted to say what I felt."

Satoru accepted the letter like it was something fragile.

> "Thank you."

---

They waited nearly an hour.

When the door opened again, the scarred commissioner stepped out.

> "Mr. Kojima. Step forward."

Satoru did.

The commissioner spoke without preamble:

> "You will retain your youth support certification."

Gasps.

> "But," he continued, "you will now be supervised under stricter oversight by Minato Base. Any further direct combat engagement will require explicit authorization."

> "Violation will result in permanent disqualification."

Satoru nodded. "Understood."

The commissioner eyed him, voice quieter now:

> "You're walking a very fine line, son. Try not to fall off it."

---

As the hallway emptied, Satoru finally breathed again.

Keiko clapped him hard on the back. "Still standing, Kojima."

Miyako beamed—just for a second—before nervously hiding behind Keiko's shoulder.

Aizawa, still leaning on the far wall, simply said:

> "You don't need a license to matter. But I'm glad you kept it anyway."

Sayaka joined them last, coat in her arms, voice dry but warm.

> "Now that you're famous again," she said, "don't forget to drink water. And sleep."

He chuckled, rubbing his eyes.

> "Yes, nurse."