Pain was a fascinating concept for an Outer Observer. In his original dimension Terra, pain was merely a string of anomalous data that could be erased with a snap of his fingers. Yet inside this mortal vessel called Nabiel, pain was a pulsing, stinging reality that refused to be ignored.
The days of rehabilitation Nabiel endured were truly torturous.
Every morning he was forced to stretch the damaged muscle tissue caused by Gabi's blue flames. The sensation felt as if his skin were being pulled taut to the brink of tearing. Doctors and physical therapists made him grip rubber balls, rotate his wrists, and lift light weights. For someone who was essentially the embodiment of cosmic laziness, this routine was earthly hell.
Yet Nabiel obeyed. Every time he wanted to give up and manipulate reality with his True Greater Than False Transcendent authority, the shadow of Momo's tear-filled eyes in the examination room always stopped him. He had chosen to play as a human, so he had to bear the narrative consequences.
Two weeks passed, and medically Nabiel's arm was declared healed. His motor nerves functioned again, and he could move his fingers without paralyzing pain. The price of that recovery, however, was clearly etched into his skin.
Standing before the mirror in his room on the first morning back at school, Nabiel stared at both arms. From mid-forearm to the fading edges on the backs of his hands stretched hideous burn scars. The skin in those areas was wrinkled and dark red, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion and forming a rough pattern of scar tissue like charred tree branches.
Nabiel reached for his oversized white shirt, the modified uniform he always wore. He slipped his arms inside, and the white fabric fell loose, draping over his hands and past his fingertips.
The Observer studied his reflection in the mirror and smiled faintly, a cynical smile aimed at the irony of his own character design. 'Ah, so this is why,' he thought. 'Before, I wore this oversized shirt only because I was too lazy to roll up the sleeves and it felt comfortable. But now those unnaturally dangling long sleeves seem to carry a powerful narrative purpose. To hide the physical flaw from the outside world. A rather neat plot point, I must admit.'
Nabiel's return to Class 1-A was met with excitement, but time waited for no one. U.A. was in full preparation mode for the Sports Festival. All students trained hard, honing their Quirks and devising strategies.
For Nabiel, however, this preparation period became house arrest disguised as friendship.
During lunch break Nabiel lay face-down on his desk, savoring his precious midday nap. Suddenly the sound of noisy footsteps approached.
"Hey, Nabiel!" Kaminari called, slapping Nabiel's desk enthusiastically. Behind him stood Kirishima, Sero, and Mineta. "We're planning to hit the arcade at Hosu station after school to blow off steam before the festival. There's a new game machine there! You're coming, right? You've been stuck in the hospital way too long!"
Nabiel lifted his head lazily, his dark eyes half-closed. "New game? Sounds trou—"
"No."
A firm, cold voice cut Nabiel off before he could finish. Yaoyorozu Momo appeared from behind Kaminari, carrying a stack of reference books with the expression of a maximum-security prison guard. Beside her, Iida Tenya adjusted his glasses with a stiff, approving nod.
"Ehh?! Why not, Yaoyorozu?" Kaminari protested, stepping back at the intimidating aura from the vice class president.
"Nabiel is still in post-rehabilitation recovery," Momo stated firmly, arms crossed. "The doctor advised avoiding physical activity or environments that are too loud and exhausting. Going to an arcade and playing outside is not on his recovery list at all."
"As class president, I fully agree with Yaoyorozu!" Iida added, chopping the air with robotic hand gestures. "Nabiel must conserve his energy for the Sports Festival. Wandering around an entertainment venue is an irrational act for a patient!"
"But we just want to play…" Mineta whined, falling silent the instant Momo shot him a sharp look.
"No. Nabiel will go home with me after school, and I will make sure he rests immediately," Momo concluded, her tone brooking no argument.
Kirishima laughed awkwardly while scratching the back of his head. "Well, if the vice president says so, there's nothing we can do. Sorry, Nabiel. Next time, okay?"
The four boys finally dispersed. Nabiel simply watched them leave in silence, then turned toward Momo, who now fixed him with a 'don't-even-try-to-argue' stare. The young man let out a long sigh and buried his face once more in the fold of his long-sleeved arm.
Technically he was confined. He was under strict supervision and not allowed to socialize freely. Yet in the deepest corner of his heart, Nabiel had to admit that having someone so fussy about his health was not such a terrible mortal experience. Moreover, it gave him the perfect excuse to laze around without feeling guilty.
Until at last the day the entire nation had been waiting for truly arrived. The U.A. Sports Festival.
The roar of millions of spectators echoed through the massive stadium, making the ground beneath their feet tremble slightly. Fireworks exploded in the clear sky, and Present Mic's booming voice from the loudspeakers heightened the atmosphere.
In the Class 1-A waiting room, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Nabiel leaned against the wall, observing the cliché interaction before him. He had just witnessed Todoroki deliver a highly dramatic war declaration to Midoriya. 'Ah, the main rivalry trope finally begins. Very shounen,' Nabiel commented inwardly, chewing gum with a flat expression.
One thing greatly disturbed the Observer's focus today: his outfit.
Nabiel looked down at the dark blue U.A. sports uniform with white stripes that hugged his body. The uniform was too fitted. There was no oversized white shirt. There were no freely dangling long sleeves. Because the U.A. sports uniform had short sleeves, Nabiel had been forced to wear a tight black long-sleeved turtleneck underneath to hide his hideous burn scars.
The layered clothing made him feel constricted, hot, and worst of all, unable to move with his usual laziness. He felt extremely uncomfortable.
"Everyone, it's time to enter the arena!" Iida called, leading the class out of the tunnel.
Blinding sunlight greeted them as Class 1-A stepped into the center of the stadium. The crowd's cheers erupted, deafening. Nabiel narrowed his eyes, feeling like an insect placed under a giant microscope. This mass attention was the natural enemy of his existence as a background character.
On the main stage, the pro hero Midnight, in her ever-controversial costume, cracked her whip to calm the crowd.
"Student representative, Bakugo Katsuki from Class 1-A!" Midnight announced.
Nabiel watched with minimal anticipation as Bakugo ascended the podium and delivered the most arrogant speech imaginable: "I promise I'm going to be number one." The cheers turned into jeers from the other classes. Nabiel could only shake his head slowly. 'A reliable troublemaker. At least he plays his role consistently.'
"Now, let's begin the first event!" Midnight shouted, pointing to the giant hologram screen behind her. A virtual roulette wheel spun rapidly.
Nabiel straightened slightly, his Outer instincts already analyzing. 'First round of a major tournament. Usually this is a mass elimination. What will they give us? A death maze full of traps? A class-versus-class battle royale? Or perhaps a survival puzzle on an artificial island? Something epic, bloody, and designed to force the characters to unleash their hidden potential.'
The roulette machine stopped with a chime. The giant screen displayed bold red text:
OBSTACLE RACE
Nabiel blinked. Once. Twice.
"Obstacle race?" he muttered quietly.
"This is a four-kilometer race around the outer perimeter of the stadium!" Midnight explained enthusiastically. "Freedom is our school's selling point! As long as you stay on the course, you may do anything you like!"
The massive gates at the end of the stadium began to open slowly, revealing a narrow, dark corridor. The first green light flashed.
Nabiel stood amid the cluster of students preparing to take their starting positions. His flat face now wore a look of profound disappointment. His expectation of a complex plot conspiracy shattered into pieces.
'Wait… after all that buildup… after the provocative speech, the war declaration, and the cheers of millions… the first event is just… running?'
The second green light flashed. Students began shouting to psych themselves up. Momo nearby had already taken a serious ready stance.
'Seriously, just a marathon with a few obstacles?' Nabiel let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. The discomfort from his sports uniform suddenly felt ten times more annoying.
The third green light flashed. A siren blared.
"BEGIN!" Midnight yelled.
Hundreds of students surged into the narrow corridor, elbowing and shoving one another. Nabiel, caught in the sea of bodies, let himself be carried along without any intention of exerting extra effort.
"So boring…" he grumbled softly amid the chaos, realizing that sometimes reality in this mortal world was far simpler, and far more exhausting, than he had anticipated.