Izuku Midoriya was always the quiet one. The one who didn't seem to care about much, the one who would show up, skate, and disappear before anyone could really get close. His nonchalant attitude made him hard to read, but it also gave him a certain mystery that intrigued some, especially Kyoka Jiro, who had been quietly watching him from afar.
---
That afternoon, Izuku was back at the skate park, practicing a few tricks, his expression as blank as ever. He never celebrated his wins or got frustrated by his losses. He just... skated. He landed a clean flip, rolled over to the edge of the park, and sat down to drink some water, barely acknowledging the crowd that had gathered to watch him.
Jiro had arrived a little later than usual, keeping her distance as she watched him from a bench. She admired the way he moved—effortless, like he didn't care if anyone noticed or not. It was that indifference that made her want to know more about him.
Taking a deep breath, she approached him. "Hey," she said casually, trying not to let her nerves show.
Izuku glanced at her, gave a slight nod, and took another sip of water. "What's up?" His voice was calm, almost too calm, like he wasn't really interested in her being there but didn't mind it either.
---
"You're pretty good at this," Jiro said, crossing her arms and looking at his skateboard. "I've seen you skate a lot. You never seem to miss."
He shrugged. "I practice a lot. That's all."
She hesitated, feeling a bit thrown off by how little he gave away. "You mind if I join you sometime? I'm not great, but I could use the practice."
Izuku paused for a moment, looking at her like he was deciding whether or not to bother. "Sure," he said finally, his tone still flat. "You skate, you skate. It's whatever."
Jiro tried to hide her surprise. "Cool. Maybe you could teach me a few things?"
He stood up, adjusting his board under his foot, eyes half-lidded as if nothing really mattered. "Yeah, whenever."
---
Jiro watched as he pushed off the ground and skated back into the park, his movements fluid but his expression unreadable. She couldn't tell if he cared that she was there or if he'd even remember this conversation later, but something about his aloofness drew her in.
Izuku skated a few more rounds, his focus solely on his board, blocking out the world. Even when people cheered or called out to him, he barely acknowledged them. He just kept skating, doing what he always did, detached from everything around him.
---
Later, as he was about to leave, he noticed Jiro still standing nearby. "You got a board?" he asked, surprising her with the sudden question.
"Uh, yeah. Not with me, though," she replied.
"Bring it next time," Izuku said, as if it were no big deal, and started walking away without waiting for a response.
Jiro watched him go, her heart beating a little faster. It wasn't much, but it was something. As she stood there, watching him disappear into the streets, she realized that for the first time in a while, she couldn't stop thinking about someone.
---
That night, Jiro sat in her room, staring at her phone. She thought about texting him but wasn't sure if he'd even care to reply. Finally, she typed out a quick message, asking if he wanted to skate on the weekend. His response came back almost immediately: *Sure*.
No excitement, no exclamation points. Just a simple reply, like everything else in his life. But for Jiro, it was enough.
---
When the weekend came, she arrived at the skate park with her board, feeling nervous. Izuku was already there, of course, sitting on the edge of the park, looking at his phone like he had all the time in the world. When he saw her, he nodded in acknowledgment, then stood up without a word.
"Ready?" he asked, already rolling away before she could answer.
As they skated together, Jiro tried to keep up with him, but he was clearly in his own world. He didn't offer much in the way of teaching, but every now and then, he'd glance her way, as if making sure she was still there.
---
By the time the sun started to set, they sat on the edge of the park again, watching the sky turn orange and pink. Izuku leaned back on his elbows, staring off into the distance with that same unreadable expression.
"Thanks for today," Jiro said, breaking the silence. "It was fun."
"Yeah," he replied simply, not even looking her way.
Jiro wasn't sure what to make of it. He was so distant, so detached from everything, but she couldn't help wanting to know more about him. There was something there, under all that indifference, she just knew it. And she was determined to find out what it was, even if it took time.
---
As they parted ways, Izuku gave a casual wave, barely glancing back as he left the park. Jiro watched him go, her feelings a confusing mix of admiration and frustration. But one thing was clear—Izuku Midoriya was unlike anyone she had ever met, and she wasn't going to let him stay a mystery forever.
