The final round of the U.A. Sports Festival unfolded exactly as written in the outdated script of reality. There were no significant surprises for an Outer Observer. Bakugo Katsuki stood on the first-place podium with explosive anger, feeling his victory was imperfect. Todoroki Shouto took second place with a vacant stare that hinted at unresolved inner conflict, while Tokoyami Fumikage occupied third with his stoic calm.
And Nabiel? He spent the rest of the event sound asleep in the infirmary, successfully avoiding the camera flashes and the roaring applause of the audience. For him, that was the real victory.
The next morning, after a day that had been extremely exhausting and draining for his body as a "human," Nabiel stood in the front yard of his luxurious house. His signature oversized white shirt clung to his body once again, its long sleeves dangling and covering both hands that were still in the recovery phase. He stood with a slightly hunched posture, chewing a piece of plain bread with a flat expression on his face, waiting for his family's driver to pick him up.
However, the approaching roar of an engine did not come from his family's black sedan. A shiny luxury car stopped right in front of him. The rear passenger window slowly lowered, revealing the figure of a girl with long black hair tied in her signature ponytail.
"Come ride with me," said Yaoyorozu Momo from inside the car, looking at Nabiel who was still focused on chewing his bread without interest.
"My driver is coming to pick me up. I'll go by myself," Nabiel replied flatly, swallowing his last bite of bread. He really did not want to get trapped in a bothersome morning conversation.
But Nabiel forgot just how stubborn his childhood friend could be when it came to him. Momo's selfishness, rooted in care, could sometimes defy any law of physics. Without warning, the girl opened the car door, reached out her hand, and pulled Nabiel's shirt collar with surprising strength.
"Eh—"
Nabiel did not even bother to resist. He let himself be pulled into the passenger seat without protest, his body gently landing on the soft leather upholstery. The car door closed tightly.
A satisfied, triumphant smile appeared on Momo's beautiful face.
"Hmmm... Now you can't refuse, can you?" Momo said in a slightly teasing tone. "I'll tell your father that you're coming with me."
Nabiel simply let out a long sigh and slumped deeper into his seat. "Do as you like. At least let me sleep on the way."
Momo's attention then shifted. Her gaze dropped to Nabiel's long shirt sleeves that hid the severe burns from the USJ incident and his fight against Midoriya. The girl's expression softened, showing concern that had not fully faded.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked softly.
Nabiel glanced at his own arms and shook his head. "No."
As a higher-dimensional entity, physical pain from a human body was something he could switch off anytime, though lately he chose to feel it for the sake of empirical experience. Still, the wounds had improved significantly thanks to U.A.'s intensive care.
Silence fell for a moment inside the car as it glided smoothly through the city streets. Momo nodded slowly after hearing the answer, then turned her body and focused on the scenery outside the window.
Looking at Momo's side profile, Nabiel recalled a shift in the story that was quietly unfolding in the background. A new arc that was far darker than a mere school tournament.
"I heard that Iida's older brother was attacked by a villain. Is that true?" Nabiel asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was flat, yet every word carried weight.
Momo did not turn to look at Nabiel. She remained still in her position, her gaze fixed on the passing buildings. When she answered, her voice sounded very soft and filled with sympathy.
"Yes... It's true. He's deeply affected."
Nabiel leaned his head against the cool window glass, his dark black eyes staring blankly ahead. He knew exactly who had attacked Ingenium, and he knew where this plot would lead Iida Tenya, toward a destructive spiral of revenge.
"I see..." Nabiel let out a long sigh. As an Outer, he was not supposed to interfere. But as a classmate, a small part of his human side felt slightly disturbed by the tragedy that had befallen their class president. 'This stage is starting to get bloody,' he thought wearily.
***
Not long after, the Yaoyorozu family car arrived at the U.A. gate. As soon as they stepped into Class 1-A and sat in their respective seats, Nabiel was immediately greeted by a commotion that made his ears feel stiff.
His classmates were busy talking about their sudden popularity after the Sports Festival. People on the streets had begun to recognize them, greeting them on the train, and discussing their Quirks. For teenagers who dreamed of becoming heroes, it was a dream come true. But for Nabiel, it was the definition of a nightmare. He buried his face in the fold of his arms on the desk, hoping he could disappear from existence.
The commotion stopped abruptly when the classroom door slid open.
Aizawa Shota stepped in toward the teacher's podium. There was no longer any thick bandage wrapping his face and arms like a mummy from the other day. His face had returned to normal, complete with deep eye bags and his permanent tired expression.
"Good morning," Aizawa greeted in his signature monotone voice.
"Sensei! Your bandages are off already?!" the entire class exclaimed, shocked to see their teacher's remarkably fast recovery.
"That old lady went a bit overboard with the treatment," Aizawa replied casually, rubbing the small scar under his eye. "But there's no time to worry about me. Today we have a special hero informatics class."
Tension immediately filled the room. A pop quiz? Combat training again?
"We will discuss nominations from the Pro Heroes," Aizawa continued, pressing a button on the remote in his hand. The projector screen behind him lit up, displaying a bar graph with the names of Class 1-A students. "Usually these nominations would be more evenly distributed. But this year, the professionals' attention is focused on two people."
The screen showed impressive numbers. Todoroki Shouto sat at the top with 4,123 nominations, followed by Bakugo Katsuki with 3,556 nominations. The rest dropped sharply, with Tokoyami and Iida in the hundreds.
Nabiel narrowed his eyes, scanning the screen from bottom to top. He had intentionally lost. He had surrendered midway through his fight against Midoriya. Logically, according to the script, he should not have received any attention from pro heroes looking for strong candidates. He had expected a big fat zero, just like Midoriya whose body had been left in ruins.
However, his eyes locked onto a name in the middle of the graph.
Nabiel - 99
Nabiel's dark black eyes widened slightly. His jaw muscles tightened.
Ninety-nine? he thought, feeling extremely irritated. What kind of damn number is this? Who are these idle people nominating a participant who clearly surrendered and ran from the arena?!
He could guess who they were. Underground heroes, intelligence agencies, or pragmatic pro heroes who had seen his efficiency with the tactical knife in the cavalry battle, as well as his absolute dominance for those few seconds before he released Midoriya. They were not looking for flashy heroes. They were looking for efficiency and lethal potential. And that made Nabiel want to curse his own abilities.
"With these results, regardless of whether you received nominations or not, all of you will participate in internships with professional heroes," Aizawa said, his voice cutting through Nabiel's internal grumbling.
Aizawa looked at the entire class with a sharp, intimidating gaze. "And to do those internships, you need hero identities. You will choose your Hero Names today."
Before the class could cheer with excitement at the prospect of choosing hero names, the classroom door suddenly opened with dramatic flair.
"Because the hero name you choose now..."
A woman in a provocative tight costume stepped in, flicking a small whip in her hand with a flamboyant style. The R-Rated Hero, Midnight, took over the stage.
"...could be the name that sticks with you for the rest of your life! Many professional heroes end up stuck with the names they created while still students, so be careful!" Midnight exclaimed, standing beside Aizawa who looked relieved to hand over the troublesome task to her.
Small whiteboards and markers were distributed to each desk. The classroom atmosphere turned into a mix of enthusiasm and immense pressure. Choosing a hero name was the first step in carving their existence in this world.
Nabiel stared at the blank white board on his desk with a vacant gaze. His long shirt sleeve covered half of the marker he was holding.
Hero name? he thought wearily. As an Outer, he had many titles in higher dimensions. The Observer, The Transcendent, The Weaver of Truth. But writing those names here would be the same as shouting his true identity. He needed the most boring, least conspicuous name possible, one that would not invite any danger.
He glanced at Momo on his right, who seemed to be thinking hard with elegance, then let out a long sigh.
"This is so troublesome..." Nabiel muttered softly, resting his chin on the desk, hoping time would pass faster so he could go back to sleep.