Author's Note (Important!)
Letting everyone know, I do not feel comfortable writing about a bunch of high schoolers, so I am changing everyone's age.
All of the characters will be ages 18 years old-21 years old.
U. A. is not a high school anymore, it is now a college.
When referencing Nezu he will no longer be "the principal", he will now be the president of U.A. College. So if you ever see "the president" anywhere, I am referring to Nezu.
This story will have strong languages and possibly mature scenes not suitable for young readers.
Thank you everyone! Enjoy the first chapter!
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Summary: She is a force to be reckoned with, a ticking time bomb of destruction. Everything she touches can and will be destroyed. But...how is that possible if she doesn't have a quirk? Katsuki Bakugo x OC
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Drawing was as simple as breathing to Nami.
Her pencil drew fluid lines down her sketchpad, her wrist dancing to the silent song she was orchestrating.
Nami spent most of her days in her drawing room. It was a place where she could express herself without fear.
Nami sat on an old wooden chair, hunched over, engrossed in her soon to be masterpiece.
"There…" Nami whispered to herself, leaning back in her chair to admire her handiwork.
Canvases were leaning against grey walls. Some stray pieces of sketch paper were scattered around the room. Sketchbooks were stacked in random corners. Crayons, used paint brushes, pens and colored pencils were sprawled messily on top of her desk.
"Maybe I should've used more blue…" Nami criticized herself softly as she lazily dragged the back end of her white colored pencil down the paper she was bent over a few moments before.
The art piece was photorealism. A delicate pale blue and gold butterfly rested atop a blood red rose. A glass jar had the butterfly and flower trapped.
The picture was brilliant, as if DaVinci himself had created it. She's been holding a pencil ever since she was three, so she's had plenty of practice over the years.
Nami flipped the paper over and scribbled on the back of the page; 3,224.
It had become second nature to keep track of how many art pieces she created. Nami enjoyed the self preservation organization brought.
She closed her sketchpad and pushed back her chair.
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Outside was a particularly pretty day. The sun was shining and cicadas echoed through the woods surrounding her.
Her drawing room is a place hidden from the world. Unless you knew it was here, you'd pass right by it. The small concrete hut stood tall, vines and leaves camouflaging Nami's secret well. There were no windows.
Nami made sure the door was locked before turning on her heel.
Nami dragged her feet as she walked. She was in no rush, it was Saturday after all. It wasn't like she had any friends to meet either.
Nami put her earbuds in and allowed the soft melody of her music to whisk her away.
The walk became a blur.
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Once the dewy grass morphed into a sidewalk Nami paused.
This always seemed to happen, every time, just like clockwork. Even before she averted her eyes from the ground she knew what she'd see.
There standing in all its blue glass windowed glory was U.A. College, the number one ranked school where students learn and train to become heroes.
It is the top hero college in all of Japan.
The gates were closed, of course. Classes weren't scheduled to start up until Monday. Not like it mattered anyway; she wasn't a student attending U.A. College.
Don't get her wrong, Nami longed to become a heroine, more than she would ever let on. It's just...she knows it isn't possible for someone like her.
The sunlight reflected magnificently off of the building, making it look even more tall and powerful than it already was.
Nami caught herself before sighing and continued on her way, her eyes glued to her shoes.
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A soft click indicated the door was unlocked. Nami pushed it open gently and flicked on the lights. After kicking off her shoes, Nami placed her keys and the mail she had gathered on the kitchen counter.
Her house was quiet.
Glancing over at the refrigerator, Nami spotted a new message made from the alphabet magnets; working late.
Nami wasn't surprised.
She took a bruised apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and made herself comfortable on her living room sofa.
Nami leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. Nami has every crack, every bump, every indent, every speck on the ceiling memorised. She isn't allowed to watch television.
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With just the core of her apple left, Nami stood to discard it.
After disposing the remains of her snack, the small stack of mail caught Nami's eye.
She knew there was nothing for her, there never was, but she was bored.
As Nami was shuffling past bills and magazines, she had to do a double take when she saw an envelope addressed to her.
Nami has never gotten mail.
So, why…?
The envelope was pearl white. Her name was written in cursive beautifully.
Who would write her a letter? If that's what it even was.
Nami held the envelope up for a closer inspection.
Her eyes widened.
"This is…"
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Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter!
I know it was kind of short, but pilots usually are.
Please feel free to comment or private message me! I would really love to hear some feedback!
Thank you again and see you all in chapter two!