Talking (Izujiro Oneshot)

Talking

I sit out on the edge of the roof of Height's Alliance, looking out of the U.A. campus, as I hear my classmates doing something stupid downstairs. Sighing, I look down at the small lit object in my hand, and taking a small hit off of the blunt in my hand. The smell of the weed drifts in the night, and while it's strong, it's something I've gotten used too. After all, when you have to take this stuff to not be in constant pain, you get used to it. 

Running a hand through my hair, I tap my feet on the ground as the wind whips at it. Thankfully, my brown bomber jacket, a gift from Tokoyami, which he said Hawks gave him, but he didn't want, is keeping me warm. Underneath the jacket, I have a simple black tee-shirt, and a pair of jeans, and of course, my red high tops. 

It's been a month since we saved Eri, and the injuries I got from fighting Muscular haven't really gotten better. As it turns out, aspirin as well as some opioids do jack-fucking-shit for me. Something about my body having intolerances to the drug, as well as OFA maybe even affecting it. Makes no fucking sense to me, but what do I know, huh? 

After several hours of debate with my mom, as well as Recovery Girl, we decided that marijuana, both edibles and smoked, would work the best. Now I get to high two or three days a week when my arms flair with pain. Fucking great. 

Sighing, I look down at the blunt, which looks a lot a cigar to me, wrapped in brown paper, and glowing slightly as it burns. Sighing, I listen as I hear the familiar shout of 'DIE!' coming from the door, followed by a loud explosion, and screams from who I assume is either Sero, Kaminari, Mina, or all of them. 

Shaking my head, I lift the blunt to my mouth, and take another hit, and after breathing in, slowly release the smoke into the night air, feeling the high take over just a tiny bit more. The pain fades a bit more, and I feel a bit more relaxed

I don't really know how long I sit there, but it's probably been a good twenty minutes since I've came up to the roof, and the sounds of whatever my classmates are doing are still there as I continue to look out over the treeline. 

"Uh......Midoriya?" A familiar voice asks, as I look over my shoulder , and see a purple-haired classmate of mine, and it's not the pervert. 

Kyoka Jiro. Our resident rocker with one of hell of a quirk. Standing about 6 or so inches shorter than me, her short-cropped purple hair moves slightly in the wind, staring at me with a pair of curious and confused black eyes. She's dressed casually, since we're done with classes for the day, in a pair of black leggings, a purple tank top with a black leather jacket over it. As she looks at me, she twirls a single ear-jack around her finger, seemingly a nervous habit. In all honesty.......fuck me, but she is hot as fuck right now. I wouldn't be surprised if my heartrate jumped. 

"Hey. Is Aizawa looking for me or something?" I ask, and she slowly shakes her head. 

"No...I just...wanted to get away from everyone. But...what are you doing up here? And...more importantly, what are you smoking?" She asks, and I look down at the blunt in my hand

"Marijuana." I reply, showing her the blunt in my fingers. 

"I....what?" She asks, and I sigh

"Marijuana? Aka, weed?" I ask, and she gives me a deadpan look. 

"I know what it is, dumbass. But still, what? More importantly, why?" She asks, and I sigh. 

"You remember the Training Camp bullshit, right?" I ask, and she scoffs

"How could I forget?" She asks, and I roll up my sleeve to show off the scars on my arms, including the large one on my upper right arm, which is just a mass of scar tissue.