╰┈➤ 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐍𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 ━━ ❝All these worries about villains and heroes... about quirks and the quirkless... when they should be worried about something far worse... me.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you, the once powerful and feared Control Devil, find your...
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━ ⭒─⭑━
"Hey! ____-chan! We need your help!" Midoriya, the first to spot you, called out, his voice laced with a desperate urgency as he gestured towards Aizawa, whose body lay crumpled and still. "You, uh, you aced that Emergency Aid class in middle school, right? And you interned with the school nurse..." he stammered, his eyes pleading. "You're, like, the most qualified to help Aizawa-sensei!"
Despite the dire situation, a flicker of amusement danced in your eyes. "Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. They were turning to you for help? It was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
A slow nod escaped your lips. "Right, I suppose I can spare a few moments to play doctor," you replied, your voice cool and collected. Your gaze flickered towards Yaoyorozu, who stood nervously to the side. "But it looks like I'll need some supplies, though."
Yaoyorozu, relieved by your willingness to help, readily materialized the necessary bandages and medical supplies. You knelt beside Aizawa, your touch surprisingly gentle as you began to assess his wounds. His brow was furrowed in pain, his eyes still closed as blood trickled down his temple, painting a gruesome scene.
As you gently brushed away a stray lock of hair from his forehead, his eyelids fluttered open weakly, allowing you to see his dazed and hurt expression.
As his gaze met yours, something clicked in your head.
Here he was—the honorable and strong Eraserhead, underground hero, weak and pliant beneath your touch. His injuries, no doubt, had dulled his senses and weakened his defenses.
This was it. The perfect opportunity.
Though he posed a threat to you, Aizawa was a valuable pawn, a potential link to the very heroes you intended to manipulate.
As you cleaned one of his gashes, you leaned in close, your voice barely a whisper as a subtle tendril of your power wormed its way into his weakened mind. "Don't worry, Aizawa-sensei," you murmured. "You'll be alright. Just rest, and let me take care of things."
But your words held a hidden meaning, a subtle command woven into the seemingly caring tone.
In your mind, you visualized a seed taking root—a seed of trust, of obedience, of a simmering loyalty towards you that would blossom in due time.
Stealing a glance over your shoulder, you surveyed the chaos with calculating eyes.
Todoroki, a whirlwind of ice and fire, launched a powerful attack towards the monstrous villain, his face a mask of unwavering determination.
Bakugo, explosions crackling around him like angry hornets, propelled himself towards the fray, his crimson eyes blazing with a feral intensity.
A dark chuckle rumbled in your chest. With the stronger students occupied, it was child's play to manipulate the situation to your advantage.
