Siblings

Introducing Pro-Hero Nimbus and her quirkless little brother.

“I have a name, asshole.”

Okay, okay. This young stud’s name is Naoto Tsuyuki, he is two years younger than Amai. Eventually, after graduating community collage, he goes to become a journalist like their late mother.

“Yeah, that’s better.”

And he’s a little entitled.

“WHAT—”

Here’s a snippet if today’s OCs!

(A little angst, it’s all I have that’s recent with them two.)

Fuchsia Skies

Keep Looking Forward

A.T

“Naoto is this close! This close!”

The Artale Principal was permanently stuck between her caffeine addiction and stressed trembling. She was doing seven things at once and still fit yelling into her schedule. Her jaw ticked. Her perfectly ironed uniform missed a button. She missed a button. She was further gone than Amai had expected. “Artale was the most prestigious public Junior High on the continent five years ago. Now students— such as your troubled little brother —are smoking in bathrooms! This is Artale! Our students don’t smoke in bathrooms!”

Amai chuckled softly to herself. The woman was losing her sanity, and it struck her as somewhat amusing. The Principal's books were meticulously organized using the decimal system, and the office was filled with the scents of lavender and coffee. Amai felt out of place, like trash among gold, just sitting in the room. The Principal's mental state was the only disarray within miles, and Amai couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern. After all, the only thing holding Naoto’s seat at Artale was his older sister enrolled at UA. She was a ‘legacy.’ Supposed proof that the school’s dynasty wasn’t slipping as far as everyone thought. This, and their deceased parents. Pity came with the grace for disobedience.

“Mrs. Nagai, I will make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Amai bowed again, and again, and again. Her stomach was hurting from how many times she folded her torso in an apology. “Please, forgive him.” She clasped her hands together. Her rather sincere and polite apologies allowed her to make it this far with an aged, old-school principal. Mrs. Nagai softened again. After a beat of silence, she flicked her glasses up her nose.

“Just go. Get out.” She rubbed at her twitching temples. “You’re uncle should be here, not you. Go do whatever it is you heroes do.”

“Yes, Mrs. Nagai.”

The office door closed behind her, and the hallways of Artale welcomed her once more. It hadn’t been long since she graduated from these halls, yet everything felt unfamiliar now. The new and familiar faces blended in a way that provided Amai with some comfort. At least there were a few who looked at her as a person, rather than just the subject of a news article.

Naoto sat at the door’s threshold with legs spread, tapping his finger on his phone, eyes sunken and dark. When the door clicked shut, he glanced up, stood, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go,” he said. Amai had to crane her neck to look at him. Just a few months ago his voice dropped and his spine grew faster than his body could keep up with. It still felt weird, her head at his chin. It felt wrong of her to reach up and grab him by the ear but she did it anyway.

“Smoking?” She sneered, tugging him down to her height. A sound rumbled above her head.

Naoto swatted away the cloud. She tugged harder on him. “Ouch! Amai, would you quit it?” She pulled him through the hallway. He groaned, “You’re embarrassing me!”

“I can deal with you skipping classes, getting into fights, and your absences,” Amai said, shoving him through the doors as they approached. The glass panes slid open, and the fresh scent of April drizzle filled the air. Yet, the pleasant smell was muted by the scent of ash on Naoto’s clothes. “But smoking? What were you thinking?”

“Akani and Koshiro were smoking. Akani asked me to hold the damn bud. I ain’t even take’ a huff.” He grumbled. “Mrs. Nagai walked in at the wrong time.”

“Maybe you need new friends. I don’t have time for this anymore.” She said, “It’s time for you to grow up.”

Naoto snatched himself away from her.

The wind carried his body further away from her. They were suspended, cratered in the unbridgeable gap between them. Usually, they’d laugh it off, and ignore it. But, as he walked away from her and down the sidewalk, Amai found herself unable to manifest a chuckle from the back of her dry throat. “Naoto!”

“Nah, I get it, Amai.” He stopped but didn’t turn around. “You’re the natural-born prodigy and I’m the quirkless delinquent you're embarrassed to bring up in conversation.” His long, slim fingers reached around his hood and he tugged the fabric above his head. The little boy that used to cling to her hip was gone. Amai’s baby brother— frantically jumping around the house with his hero figurines and their mother’s lipstick printed against his cheeks and forehead —no longer existed. Everything was changing and she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t slow it down. “Go home without me. I’m gonna run some errands.” And then he walked

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Man, I really need to start using references again. I feel like the proportions are sooo off—