Quirkless Mastermind

𝗖𝟯𝟮:𝗗𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼𝗺𝘆

Nighteye's POV-

What had I just witnessed? My mind was reeling, as still as a frozen lake, yet turbulent beneath the surface. Had my eyes deceived me, or had my student—a boy with no quirk, no protection—just taken a knife to his own hand?

Time felt suspended in that instant. I'd seen countless confrontations, but nothing could have prepared me for this. I knew Ayanokouji was highly perceptive, with an analytical mind that bordered on unsettling. He had recognized the risk and chosen, somehow, to position himself as a shield against Stain. It was as though he'd calculated that this brutal method was the only way to contain the threat. I could only surmise that, after meeting Ingenium, he felt a surge of duty—of pain, even. But this...this was dangerous courage.

It was brave, full of courage but utterly threatening. The way his hand got stabbed right in front of my eyes brought me back to life.


Before my words my legs rushed, but faster was Mirio, who transferred his body to him through the ground, as his quirk, Permeation allows him to become intangible, letting him pass through any tangible matter. However, the nudity of his situation didn't matter as his clothes didn't permeate with him.


 

"Are you okay??" Mirio's voice trembled, his concern flooding through every syllable. "Oh gosh! Kouhai! How...Why?? Are you out of your mind?" His hands hovered over the wound, his panic an undeniable contrast to Ayanokouji's eerie calm.

It was all too much to process, but I forced my training to kick in. In one fluid motion, I reached for Mirio's discarded hero cape, tearing off a wide strip to use as a makeshift bandage. My hands moved quickly, but my mind was still struggling to reconcile the unsettling ease with which Ayanokouji had orchestrated this situation.

Yet he was completely unfazed. His voice was steady, almost detached. "I'll wrap it myself, Nighteye. But do we have a way to sanitize it?"

My hands stilled for a moment, caught off guard by the chilling composure in his tone. How could he, with such an injury, maintain this composure? And without a quirk, no less. It defied logic.

Keeping my composure, I reached into my utility pouch, pulling out a packet of ALLMIGHT-sanctioned antiseptic wipes—an unusual item, yet unexpectedly useful in moments like this. With a quick nod, I handed them over, feeling an overwhelming surge of conflicted admiration and frustration.

Mirio's face was still tense, a mixture of horror and admiration flashing in his eyes as he watched Ayanokouji clean and bind his own wound, as though this were a minor inconvenience and not the blatant act of self-endangerment it was. Those hands skillfully tied the cape around his bleeding digits like it wasn't anything major.

"Ayanokouji," I finally said, my voice low and measured, "this...recklessness. I hope you understand what it means to those around you."

But Ayanokouji only looked at me with that same, unreadable expression. "It's just pain, Sir. And for a worthy goal, pain is merely a factor, not an obstacle. And if possible, I want to meet Recovery girl as soon as possible."

My heart tightened, a tension mounting as I processed his words. He was methodical, almost cold, yet behind that detachment was something inexplicably powerful. He had a fire that burned quietly, with no need for grand displays, yet just as potent. And for the first time, I questioned whether this quirkless, calculating young man was more prepared for this path than most heroes I'd seen in my lifetime.

"Sigh... I will arrange for her visit, but it will take a night. I'll order pain medications to the office once we reach there," I said, my voice heavy with resignation.