My gaze shifted toward the desk. I slid into the chair, grabbed a pen and a notebook.
'I need to note the main plot points… I don't remember everything clearly, but at least the major events and the important characters.'
Suddenly pen slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the desk.
"Huh… that's weird. My hands are dry."
I reached for it again. It slipped.
Again. And again.
'This isn't normal'.
I looked around the desk. There was nothing—no oil, no water, no powder. Just the pen, the notebook, and my hands. I wiped my palms against the wall.
'This must be...my quirk?'
Two conclusions formed in my mind:
-My quirk affects the pen itself.
-It decreases—or cancels—friction completely.
Friction cancel…? No, it's too early to jump to conclusions. I need tests.
I touched the pen again, imagining the opposite scenario: friction amplified.
I pushed.
The pen didn't budge.
Okay… that's promising.
Ten minutes later...
after several small experiments, it became clear.
It was Friction Control. I could manipulate how strongly small objects interacted with their surroundings.
I focused my sight on a pen resting on the desk. Adjusted friction. Pushed.
Nothing. Not a millimeter of movement.
A grin spread across my face.
"interesting... so it works without physical contact"
I flexed my fingers. Let's practice some more.
--------<>----------
After some time, I began to understand the true scope of my quirk. Friction Control was a simplistic name—it barely captured the reality.
It was the manipulation of atomic interaction, the invisible dance between an object and its environment.
How strongly the atoms of a thing exchanged energy with the atoms around it.
In normal circumstances, the applications seemed straightforward: I could make objects glide effortlessly or lock them in place. But it is not that simple controlling was difficult— kind of like Mirio's quirk.
But circumstances favored me. With the Six Eyes, the world unfolded in unimaginable detail, and it granted me extreme control.
Imagine trying to paint a complex object by throwing a bucket of paint at it. Sure, I could paint a pebble.
But to paint a bicycle for example… I needed a brush.
It reminded me of Gojo's Limitless. If you remove the Six-eyes, the cursed technique itself is barely usable.
I decided on one final test.
I removed the blindfold.
Picked up a pen and a paper.
Pressed its tip against the paper as if I were about to write.
I focused… zoomed in.
Deeper. Deeper. Until the world dissolved into atoms. Pain flared behind my eyes, but I gritted my teeth, zooming back just enough to see the ball of the pen clearly.
I decreased the friction, moved the pen across the page.
It glided effortlessly. No mark appeared—except a faint dot where the tip first touched.
I exhaled, shoulders slumping.
"That… was exhausting."
-------<>--------
After sometime my mother's voice called from the kitchen.
"Nagato, come have breakfast!"
"Coming," I replied.
For now… sunglasses would do. I slid them on, hiding my eyes.
It is embarrassing wearing a blindfold like
in front of my parents like some ninja turtle.
I walked into the kitchen, trying to act casual. Both of my parents were already seated at the table, breakfast ready. Their heads turned as I entered.
"Is this some kind of new trend?" my father asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Is… something wrong, Nagato?" my mother asked, worry creeping into her voice.
I hesitated, then removed the sunglasses,
revealing my blue eyes.
Their forms… clarified.
My father's breathing was steady, his posture relaxed but attentive. My mother's fingers tightened ever so slightly around her cup, a subtle tremor betraying her worry.
The heat rising from the food distorted the air in gentle waves, and beneath it all, countless tiny interactions.
"I think I awoken my quirk" I said
"Congratulations sweetie" mother said
"That's indeed good news"
My father said then he notices my changed eye color asked in surprise. "But what happened to your eyes?"
"I don't know… I just woke up like this, probably related to the quirk" I replied, shrugging.
"Why were you wearing sunglasses then?" my mother asked, leaning closer.
"I have a slight headache… bearable. But it doesn't go away unless I cover them or close them entirely"
"Does it hurt ?" Mother asked worried
"No but it is like...constant "
"This isn't something to take lightly," my father said firmly.
"We should get you checked."
"Yes, sweetie. Eat something first, then we'll go to the doctor," my mother added with a gentle smile.
I picked up my chopsticks and started eating.
Dad… Daichi.
His quirk lets him hold onto things really, really well. Not just strong—stuck. Like when I tried to push his arm once and it didn't move at all. He said it helps him at work, and with carrying heavy stuff.
Mom… Aiko.
Her hands are always warm. Not hot—just… nice. When I was sick, she used to hold my forehead, and it made everything feel better. She says it's nothing special, just something small.
"So…" my father said after a while, "what can you do with it?"
I swallowed before answering, trying to keep it simple.
"I can make things… slide. Or not slide."
They both blinked.
My mother smiled gently. "What do you mean, sweetie?"
I reached for my spoon, holding it up.
"Like this… if I want, it can slip from my hand really easily."
I loosened my grip slightly—the spoon shifted more than it should have.
"And… I can also make it not move at all."
I placed it back on the table and nudged it. It barely moved.
My father leaned forward a little, interest replacing some of his concern.
"So you can control how things move?"
I nodded.
"No... I can't move things but I can stop them from moving" I said.
"And… when I look at them, it feels… different. Like I can see more."
My mother's expression softened, but the worry didn't disappear.
"Is that why your eyes hurt?"
I nodded again, taking a small bite of food.
"It's like… they don't want to stop working."
"That doesn't sound comfortable," she murmured.
"It's okay," I said quickly. "I can just cover them."
My father crossed his arms, thinking. "Can you use it on big things?"
I shook my head. "No… just small stuff for now."
They exchanged a glance again
"Well," my father said after a moment, "it sounds like something that could be very useful one day."
My mother smiled, reaching out to gently pat my head. "Just don't push yourself too hard, alright?"
"I won't" I said.