Boku No Hero Academia One Shots [Book 2]

Hitoshi Shinsou

I'm sorry for the hiatus - I've been really preoccupied with school and work!

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It was your first day on the job, and your nerves were close to detonating completely.

There was a special, fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach, and like fireflies swarming the darkness, it illuminated your inner structure. The quaint yet populated café had always been something of a miracle to you - the staff were light-hearted and entertaining, the food was simply sublime, and there was a lovely buzz in the air, linking together each and every customer. It was just like magic. As a child, it had enchanted and enraptured you. As an adolescent, its attractive architecture stunned you even further. Now you were here, finally, to work. It was only a temporary, Sunday job, but it was something to give you a little extra picket money. However, as you stood amongst your new team mates, a certain face caught your attention. Your breath hitched; he was beautiful. This boy might have been older than you - by two years at most - yet you couldn't help the pounding in your chest. You tried to calm yourself, conscious of your cheeks, which reddened far too easily.

His striking violet hair echoed in your line of sight. You wanted to avert your eyes, for fear of frightening the poor boy, or causing him discomfort. You fought with yourself, a battle almost as devastating and tiresome as the Wars of the Roses. Shaking your head and mentally slapping yourself, you told your mind to get a grip and quit embarrassing you. Some friendly faces laughed and asked you a variety of questions - where were you from? What was your real name? (Everyone you now worked with had a ridiculous nickname).

You learned that your mysterious, and handsome, acquaintance was granted the very endearing nickname: Natsu. It was ironic, because that word meant 'summer', but this boy appeared quite cold and uninterested in conversing with your colleagues. Although, once he strode towards you and formally introduced himself, you realised that he was just as (if not more) nervous than you. This seemed strange, but you shrugged it off and smiled your way through the interaction, hoping to leave a positive stain on his memory.

As it turned out, you observed a genuine interest buried within his many questions. It was veiled by small talk and off-handed comments, yet you heard it, and it fuelled your confidence slightly. This boy was bound to be your undoing, and you had only just met. You felt your entire life melting to shambles. Where had the need gone for private, heartfelt moments, and years of steadily building a relationship? At the first ring of his voice, you wanted to marry him. Marriage had not previously been on your agenda, but despite knowing this charming individual for the grand total of four hours, you felt wholly prepared to do anything for him - absolutely anything. In fact, you were almost certain that you would eventually go to prison for this boy. This beautiful, violet angel, or possibly the devil incarnate, would be your doom. You were going to fall into the layers and layers of Hell and brimstone, fire and fury, just to see him smile. You would pierce the clouds of Heaven, storm down the gates and trample the crops, simply for a glimmer of his laugh, reflecting off the water's surface.

His voice was a cacophony of the purest angels, with all the ferocity of a great lion. It wasn't proud - quite the opposite, actually. He was insecure, his misgivings barricaded behind a beautiful façade of confidence. He was a self-proclaimed extrovert. However, you paid attention. Too much attention, perhaps, and so you noticed the way in which he often held himself, hands pressed tightly to his midsection, the way he stumbled over his words, and the awkwardness concealed in a single glance. This was especially prevalent when you tried making conversation with him, or simply looked in his general direction. You failed to mention your findings, only wishing that he would be more open with you. He didn't go to your school, which only served to complicate matters. Instead, he attended a very prestigious heroics school. You were quirkless, so in addition to being a huge surprise, it was a fascinating piece of information.

When winter came knocking, you placed a Christmas card by his work station, heart racing. He arrived, stared at it with an unreadable expression, and set to his job. When he had a brief moment of peace, he tore open the envelope and read the card. Nothing was said until the following Thursday. You were hopelessly paranoid - he hadn't used your phone number at all! He finally decided to message you while your attention was occupied by an incredibly pressing matter.

Hey, it's Natsu from work. Thanks for the card and sorry about the late reply.

You stared, wide-eyed, then responded.

Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you decided to message me! (◠‿◠✿)

The subsequent Sunday, you were practically seething. Did this boy not know how to reply to something so simple, or was he just embarrassed? You were left feeling extremely guilty and a little confused.

Perhaps you would just have to voice your feelings, a little more directly. 

[Word Count: 876]