Mumen Rider in MHA

It wasn't raining when the backlash started.

But it felt like it.

Satoru sat at the back of the Minato Base conference room, hands in his lap, new armor dulled by scuffs and dried mud. His helmet sat beside him—clean, polished. The name Mumen Rider was starting to stick.

But none of that mattered now.

Not with the wall of screens playing news coverage from every corner of the city. Anchors repeating the same phrases like a mantra:

> "Interfered with licensed pros."

"Overstepped his position."

"A support youth going too far."

Beside him, the Minato Base captain rubbed his temples. "They're blowing it out of proportion. Again."

Satoru didn't reply.

Across town, everyone was watching.

---

Keiko, standing at the front counter of the flower shop, had the TV muted. She was reading the live captions.

She didn't realize she was gripping the scissors too tightly until she cut through the flower stem and nearly her glove.

> "Idiots," she hissed. "All of them."

Miyako stood nearby, folding paper bags. She looked up, hesitant.

> "Is it really that bad?"

Keiko paused. "They don't care that he saved people. Just that he wasn't 'authorized' to do it."

Miyako swallowed, then said—almost in a whisper:

> "But people are alive because of him…"

Keiko nodded. "And they're gonna crucify him for it."

---

Kana sat on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling off the edge, eyes fixed on a handheld screen.

Smoke trailed faintly from her fingertips, her quirk crackling in her bones like a bad storm on the way.

The headlines below the livestream stung.

> "Helmet Hero Oversteps Again."

"Should Minors Stay in the Background?"

> "He's not even trying to be a hero," she muttered. "They just… keep pushing him there."

She didn't know who she was angrier at.

Them—or herself.

---

At the hospital, Sayaka barged into the break room and snapped off the TV.

The other nurses flinched.

"Enough," she said. Her voice shook. "You don't get to play judge when you've never stood where he stood."

One of the interns muttered, "He shouldn't have gone that far."

Sayaka turned, slow and sharp. "What would you have done? Waited? Hesitated? Let those people die?"

They didn't answer.

She grabbed her coat.

> "Excuse me," she said, already walking. "I have something to deliver."

---

Back in the Minato Base meeting, Satoru finally stood.

The captain looked up. "You don't have to say anything."

But he did.

> "They're not wrong," Satoru said, voice low. "I wasn't supposed to be there. I'm not trained the same. Not as strong. Not as fast."

He stared at the muted TV across the room. His image—caught mid-rescue—flashed again and again.

> "But no one else was coming. So I did."

Silence.

> "You want me to stop?" he asked. "Tell me to my face. I'll listen."

The captain didn't. No one did.

> "But if you don't say it," Satoru added, "then don't blame me for showing up when it matters."

He turned. Helmet in hand.

---

Outside the base, the crowd had gathered.

Some with signs: "Support the Support."

Some with boos.

Some just there to stare.

Keiko was in the back. So was Miyako.

And Sayaka… Sayaka was already walking past the gate, holding a folded slip of paper.

She handed it to him silently.

> "What is it?" he asked.

> "Testimony," she said. "Mine. For the hearing."

He blinked. "You didn't have to—"

> "I know," she cut in. "But you're not alone anymore, Kojima. You never were."

Satoru stood there for a moment, the sun finally breaking through behind him.

Helmet on. Armor scratched.

Still standing.

Still staying.