The UA infirmary room was filled with a sharp antiseptic scent and the soft hum of the air conditioner. On one of the beds with white sheets, a very unheroic scene was unfolding.
"Aaaaaaarrrghhh...."
A long, muffled groan echoed from behind the pillow. Nabiel buried his face there, kicking the edge of the mattress lightly like a child refusing to go to school. As an Outer entity who was supposed to watch over reality from a higher dimension, being trapped in a sweat-filled, cliché-filled shounen tournament arc was his worst nightmare.
The infirmary door creaked open. Yaoyorozu Momo stepped inside, still wearing her UA sports uniform. The girl paused for a moment, shaking her head gently as she watched her childhood friend whining incoherently on the bed.
Momo walked over to him, pulled up a small chair, and sat beside the bed. "Have you been examined? What did they say? Are you allowed to participate?" she asked in a gentle tone, though it carried the firmness typical of a class vice president.
Nabiel rolled over, pushing the pillow away from his tired and disheveled face. His naturally messy black hair now looked even more chaotic. He stared blankly at the infirmary ceiling.
"Yeah... I am," Nabiel replied in a long, lazy drawl. "But I shouldn't overdo it later. Ahhh, I don't want to...."
Momo let out a long sigh. She was already very familiar with this young man's habits. With careful movements, she took Nabiel's hand. She gently rolled up the sleeve of his oversized white shirt that hung over his palm, revealing the fresh white bandage that Recovery Girl had just changed. Beneath that bandage, Momo knew exactly there was a terrible burn from the USJ incident that had not fully healed.
Momo's dark eyes radiated deep concern. She softly stroked the edge of the bandage. "If you really don't want to, and the wound still hurts... you can withdraw, Nabiel. No one will blame you."
For a moment, silence enveloped them. In the eyes of an Outer, withdrawing was the most logical and efficient choice. He could return to being a background character, watching from the spectator seats while eating snacks and letting the protagonists beat each other up for the trophy. That was the original script.
However, the image of Shoji sacrificing his position, Asui's gaze, and Mineta's silly shout flashed through his mind.
Slowly, Nabiel pulled his hand from Momo's grasp. Not roughly, but with a gentle tug full of caution. He touched his own bandage, feeling the rough texture of the gauze over his still-throbbing skin.
"I don't want to betray the trust of my friends," Nabiel said. His voice no longer sounded lazy or whiny. There was a flat yet firm tone in it. "I will do my best."
Momo fell into thought. Her eyes widened slightly upon hearing those words. They sounded so... heroic. Very unlike Nabiel, who usually always looked for the easiest way out of every problem.
Realizing the girl had been staring at him silently for quite a while, Nabiel turned his head and glanced at Momo from the corner of his deep black eyes. "Why? Does it sound weird?"
Momo quickly shook her head, a thin and relieved smile forming on her lips. "No, it's just... I'm really happy to hear that from you." She looked at Nabiel with eyes full of pride. "You can definitely do it, Nabiel."
Nabiel only snorted softly, turning his face away to hide the sudden awkwardness that crept into his human chest. Being human, he thought, apparently had the side effect of troublesome little emotions.
***
After making sure Nabiel had enough rest, the two of them left the infirmary. The stadium hallway felt cooler than the outside arena, but the atmosphere was starting to fill with UA students walking back and forth, hurrying toward the spectator seats to watch the main event that would soon begin.
As they walked side by side, a tall young man with spiky purple hair approached from the opposite direction. The hallway was actually quite wide, yet the young man did not shift his path at all.
*Thud.*
The young man's shoulder collided quite hard with Nabiel's. The sudden jolt made Nabiel wince softly, a stinging pain shooting from his shoulder down to the nerves in his injured hand.
Momo, who saw what happened, immediately stopped walking. Her protective instinct flared up. "Hey! Watch where you're going!" Momo shouted at the purple-haired young man.
The young man—Shinso Hitoshi—stopped. He turned around and tilted his head in a very relaxed manner, looking at them with half-lidded eyes that radiated a provocative aura.
"Oh?" Shinso smirked faintly, his voice sounding dismissive. "Sorry, I didn't see you. Because you're wearing a shirt, I thought you were a regular civilian and not a UA student."
Momo clenched her fists, ready to retort to the sharp remark, but Nabiel raised his bandaged hand, signaling Momo to step back.
As an Observer, Nabiel knew exactly who the character in front of him was. He knew about Shinso's Brainwashing Quirk, and he knew very well that responding with emotion or anger was the absolute requirement for Shinso to take control of his target's consciousness.
Nabiel took one step forward. His usually slouched, lazy posture now stood straight. The oversized white shirt sleeves fluttered lightly.
"This shirt is a special accommodation from UA because the tight UA sports uniform makes my wound hurt," Nabiel said in a very flat, rational tone, completely unmoved by emotion.
He narrowed his pitch-black eyes, staring directly into Shinso's with a cold aura that seemed capable of piercing the soul. A gaze from an entity that had witnessed millions of stories being born and dying.
"You don't like it?" Nabiel asked, his voice quiet yet heavy.
The condescending smile on Shinso's face instantly vanished. The air around them suddenly felt heavy. Shinso tried to find an emotional crack in the white-shirted young man before him—anger, shame, or wounded ego—but he found nothing. There was only absolute emptiness staring back at him. His Quirk would not work on a response this ice-cold.
Shinso's expression turned flat. As if disappointed that his bait was not taken, and perhaps slightly intimidated by Nabiel's gaze, he turned his body without saying a single word and walked away.
"That guy...," Momo muttered, frowning as she watched Shinso's retreating back. "He's always looking for trouble with Class 1-A. He really has no manners."
Nabiel relaxed his shoulders, returning to his usual lazy posture. He did not really care about Shinso. In his mind, Shinso was just a side character struggling against his own stigma—a interesting plot, but not his concern.
Compared to the small incident just now, Nabiel's thoughts instead drifted to the huge digital name boards he had seen before entering the hallway. The boards displaying the bracket of participants who would advance in the individual tournament.
"Oh right, Momo," Nabiel called, casually changing the subject. "You're... going to compete in the first round, right?"
Momo jolted. Her shoulders tensed slightly. The memory of the tournament bracket where she had to face Tokoyami Fumikage—one of the strongest students in their class—came rushing back. The lack of confidence that had always haunted her since the recommendation path resurfaced.
"Y-yeah...." Momo answered softly, lowering her head to hide the anxiety on her face.
Nabiel looked at the girl. He knew the original script of that fight very well. He knew how it would end if left to follow the story's flow. However, seeing his childhood friend gripped by doubt, the Observer decided to give a small intervention—not with his cosmic power, but as a human named Nabiel.
Nabiel tilted his head, then smiled faintly. Not the usual cynical or lazy smile he showed, but a very sincere one.
"Good luck," Nabiel said gently. "You can definitely do it."
Momo's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing slightly. Hearing such direct support from Nabiel felt like it brought new warmth to her chest. She returned the smile with a much more confident nod.
"Thank you, Nabiel."