The afternoon sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. Izuku Midoriya stood on the rooftop of his apartment building, staring blankly at the skyline. In his hand, he held a small, rolled joint, the tip already burning slowly. He brought it to his lips, took a long drag, and exhaled the smoke into the open air, watching as it disappeared into the evening sky.
This had become a quiet ritual for him—something no one knew about, something that gave him a moment of escape. He wasn't doing it to fit in, nor was he looking for validation. He just... didn't care anymore. Heroes, school, training—it was all just noise. But here, up high with the city beneath him, everything was quiet.
With his skateboard tucked under his arm, Izuku flicked the ash off the joint and took one last drag before dropping it to the ground, crushing it under his foot. He grabbed his board and made his way down the fire escape, feeling the cool breeze against his face.
He kept to the shadows as he exited the building, slipping unnoticed through the back streets of Musutafu. Izuku had always been good at blending in, and tonight, no one was paying attention to him—just the way he liked it.
---
At the skate park, the atmosphere was different. The rhythmic clattering of wheels hitting concrete filled the air. Kids and teens were grinding rails, flipping their boards, and laughing amongst themselves. No one cared about who Izuku was or what he did. He was just another face, another skater passing through. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.
He kicked off on his board, rolling over the smooth concrete, feeling the vibrations under his feet. He leaned into a turn, his mind quiet and blank, the world fading into the sound of his wheels and the occasional scrape of his trucks against the pavement.
Izuku wasn't a flashy skater, but he was good. His movements were fluid and effortless, much like how he fought. But here, there were no enemies, no missions—just the pure simplicity of skating. As he ollied over a small ledge and landed cleanly, a few skaters nearby noticed him, but he paid them no mind. He wasn't here to impress anyone.
He rolled up to the edge of the half-pipe and paused, looking down at the drop. Normally, he'd hesitate for a second, but today, he didn't think twice. He shifted his weight and dropped in, the sudden rush of speed and gravity pulling him down into the curve of the ramp. His body instinctively knew what to do, years of training making every motion seamless. Up and down, back and forth—he glided through the half-pipe like it was second nature, all thoughts of hero work left behind.
---
As the evening wore on, the park began to empty out. Izuku sat on the edge of a bench, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His muscles ached, but it was a good kind of pain—different from the exhaustion of hero training. This was something he chose for himself, something no one else had a say in.
He pulled out another joint, lit it, and inhaled deeply, staring up at the darkening sky. The stars were starting to appear, twinkling faintly above him, and for the first time in a while, Izuku felt something close to peace. It wasn't the kind of peace that came from accomplishment or purpose—it was just the quiet, the absence of everything else.
No heroes, no villains, no expectations.
Just him, his board, and the empty night.
---
By the time he finished, the park was nearly deserted. Izuku got to his feet, his skateboard under one arm, and began the slow, quiet ride back home. He didn't bother checking his phone—there were probably messages from his mom, maybe even some from his classmates. But they could wait. As far as Izuku was concerned, they didn't need to know anything about what he did in his free time. This side of him, the one that skated and smoked and didn't give a damn, was for him and him alone.
As he rolled down the empty streets, the city lights flickering around him, Izuku felt the wind in his face and allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. No one knew him here, and no one needed to.
