The bruises on his shoulder had barely faded, but Satoru was already back out again.
Three nights in a row now. His patrols were getting longer. His notebook fatter.
And the whispers were getting louder.
---
The first came at the bakery near 6th Street.
He stopped there sometimes to refill his water bottle. Tonight, the woman behind the counter looked up from kneading dough and smiled.
> "Saw you in that video. My son thinks you're a Power Ranger."
Satoru blinked. "I… I'm not."
She laughed. "Doesn't matter. You're out there, right?"
She handed him a melon bun, free of charge.
> "Stay safe, Bike Hero."
He left the shop stunned—and a little warmer inside.
---
But not every encounter was kind.
Near the underpass, a man with a cigarette flicked ash at his feet as Satoru passed.
> "Cosplay ain't gonna stop real villains, kid."
Two teenagers walked past him later on, snickering.
> "I heard he wears adult diapers under that armor."
> "Hey Helmet Head, saving the day or delivering pizza again?"
Satoru didn't look back.
He just turned down a side street and pedaled harder.
---
Around 9:30, he spotted a trash fire behind the closed market district. Two homeless men huddled nearby.
He approached slowly, cautious.
One of the men squinted. "You that guy? The one who stopped that mugging?"
Satoru nodded. "Just checking if you're safe."
The other man grunted. "You're crazy. No powers. Just bones and tape."
> "I'm not trying to be strong," Satoru replied. "Just useful."
They stared at him for a long beat.
Then one of them offered a half-eaten onigiri.
> "Sit a while, Helmet."
He did.
---
The next morning, Keiko cornered him before he could slip out.
She was in uniform. Fresh off a night shift. Eyes tired but sharp.
> "You've been going out every night."
Satoru froze.
> "They're talking about you at the station."
He looked down at his scuffed shoes.
> "I'm not breaking laws. I'm careful."
> "That's not the point." Her voice broke a little. "What happens when someone with a real quirk decides they've had enough of you?"
> "Then I'll try to survive."
> "This isn't a game, Satoru."
> "It never was."
She stared at him for a long moment.
Then sighed.
> "Just… don't get yourself killed trying to prove something. You already matter."
He wanted to believe that.
But deep down, something still whispered:
> Then why does it feel like I don't?
---
That night, before patrol, he wrote in his notebook:
> "Some think I'm a joke. Some think I'm brave. I don't know what I am yet. But I keep showing up. Because maybe that's enough—for now."
He snapped his helmet on, tugged the straps tight.
And stepped into the dark again.