Quirkless Mastermind

𝐂𝟐𝟕: 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝

Humans are inherently fickle creatures.

One moment, they profess deep care and concern; the next, their attentions wane, drifting like leaves caught in a fickle breeze. Grudges that burn hot and intense can cool in an instant, transforming into unexpected camaraderie. Yet, within this constant flux of emotion, there lies a peculiar sense of contentment-a resignation, perhaps, to the ever-changing tides of human sentiment.

Moments ago, faces were etched with anger and disappointment, shadows of defeat lingering in their eyes. Now, those same faces display a serene acceptance, as if reality has gently coaxed them into submission.

I can't help but ponder: are the emotions swirling around me in this room equally transient? Aizawa-sensei's furrowed brow speaks of restrained frustration, while All Might's deeply lined forehead betrays a worry that seems almost paternal. Todoroki stands silent, his simmering anger subdued beneath a stoic facade. Momo's features are drawn tight with palpable concern, and beside her, Jirou's eyes reflect a quiet guilt that she tries to mask with indifference. Midoriya, ever earnest, reaches out with trembling hands towards my once-mutilated arm, his fingers hovering hesitantly as if afraid to confirm the reality of my injury.

Breaking the heavy silence, I address them all, my voice steady and measured.

"Hello, everyone. Before any concerns arise, allow me to assure you that my hand is completely fine."

To demonstrate, I flex and rotate my wrist, performing a series of basic movements that should, in theory, alleviate their worries. Yet, I can see that my display offers only a modicum of comfort. Their eyes linger on me, shadows of doubt and unease refusing to dissipate so easily.

A blizzard of voices erupts, a jumble of questions and exclamations filling the room with chaotic energy. I remain silent amidst the noise, hoping their collective fervour will exhaust itself without my intervention.

Aizawa-sensei's exasperated sigh cuts through the din, his voice low but commanding. "Silence."

The word hangs heavy in the air, and gradually, the clamour subsides. He continues, his tone brooking no argument.

"You were all permitted to check on Ayanokouji's condition, nothing more. Save your questions for class time. Understood?"

Murmurs of dissent ripple through the group, but none dare openly challenge Aizawa-sensei's authority. That is, until Momo steps forward, her posture stiff but resolute. She bows respectfully before speaking.

"Sensei, with all due respect, I need to speak with Ayanokouji privately."

Aizawa-sensei's gaze sharpens, but his reply remains firm. "After we're finished here, and only if it falls within visiting hours. Now, all of you, return to your classes."

Reluctantly, they begin to file out, Momo casting a final, lingering glance over her shoulder as she exits. In their wake, the room feels emptier, the silence more profound. Only All Might and Aizawa-sensei remain, their eyes trained intently on me.

Aizawa-sensei is the first to break the silence, his voice carrying a hint of the weariness that lines his features. "What were you thinking, ignoring Midnight's orders?"

I meet his gaze evenly. "Perhaps that question should be directed at Todoroki. I disengaged, but his attacks persisted without restraint."

He considers my response, eyes narrowing slightly. "Fair enough. So, you're confirming that you were fully aware and in control during the entire match?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, sensei?"

"Just answer, problem child."

A brief pause. "Yes, I was completely cognizant throughout."