The next morning at U.A., rumors about Izuku Midoriya were spreading like wildfire. His classmates, usually oblivious to anything outside of hero training, were now buzzing with curiosity about his secret life. The once quiet, unassuming student had become the topic of conversation, and his nonchalant attitude only added to the intrigue.
In class, Izuku sat in his usual seat at the back, his head resting on his hand, staring out the window as Aizawa began the lesson. He barely paid attention, the words from his teacher fading into the background. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about the skate session from the previous night and the videos Emi had posted.
Jiro, sitting a few seats away, kept glancing at Izuku. She was trying to figure out how to approach him. She wanted to understand the side of him that none of their classmates knew about—the part of him that smoked, skated, and lived a life outside of the pressure of being a hero. But she didn't know how to bring it up without sounding like she had been stalking his social media.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Izuku grabbed his bag and made his way out without saying a word to anyone. His classmates watched as he left, some exchanging glances, but no one dared to follow him this time.
Jiro decided today would be the day she'd talk to him.
---
Later, after classes had ended, Izuku met up with Kaito, Ren, and Emi at their usual spot outside the city. It was a secluded area where they could skate without interruptions. As they hung out, Kaito tossed a bag of chips to Izuku, who caught it without looking.
"You good?" Kaito asked, noticing Izuku's quietness today.
"Yeah," Izuku replied, shrugging. "Just tired."
Ren lit a cigarette, leaning against a nearby wall. "Saw the comments on our post. People from U.A. are talking about you, man."
Izuku raised an eyebrow but didn't seem too fazed. "Let them talk."
Emi laughed, holding up her phone. "They're all shocked that their precious 'hero' is just like everyone else. Guess they expected you to be some kind of golden boy."
Izuku took a drag from the cigarette Ren handed him, exhaling slowly. "I never cared what they thought."
As they skated, taking turns hitting tricks and chilling in between, Izuku's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, seeing a message from an unknown number.
**"We need to talk. - Jiro"**
Izuku stared at the message for a moment before locking his phone again. He didn't respond. He wasn't in the mood for whatever conversation she wanted to have.
---
Back at the U.A. dorms, Jiro was pacing in her room, waiting for a reply. She wasn't sure what she expected—Izuku wasn't the type to respond quickly, if at all. She sighed, flopping onto her bed, frustrated that she couldn't figure him out.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a notification. She opened Instagram and saw another post from Emi's account. It was another group shot, this time of Izuku and his crew standing in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, the lighting giving it a gritty, urban vibe. They all looked carefree, like they didn't have a worry in the world.
Izuku, in the center, had his usual expressionless face, a cigarette in hand, as if the chaos around him didn't touch him at all.
Jiro stared at the picture, feeling a pang of something—jealousy, maybe. She couldn't tell. She wanted to be part of that world, to understand how he could seem so detached from everything while still carrying so much weight on his shoulders. She needed to know more about him, but she didn't want to push him away by asking the wrong questions.
---
The next day, Jiro decided to confront him directly. After class, she waited for him outside the building. When Izuku finally emerged, she stepped in his path, determined to get his attention.
"Izuku," she called, her voice firm but not harsh.
He stopped, glancing at her with the same nonchalant look he always had. "What's up?"
Jiro took a deep breath. "I saw your post—the one with your friends. And the others too."
Izuku raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
"I just..." Jiro struggled to find the right words. "I wanted to know why you don't let anyone see that side of you. The skating, the... other stuff."
Izuku looked at her for a moment, his face unreadable. "It's none of their business."
Jiro nodded, expecting that response. "Yeah, I get that. But why hide it? Why stay at U.A. if you don't care about being a hero?"
For the first time, Izuku's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something passing through his eyes. "Who said I didn't care?"
Jiro blinked, taken aback. "But you—"
"I just don't care about their expectations," Izuku interrupted. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
Jiro was silent for a moment, processing his words. He didn't need to explain further—his actions spoke for him. He wasn't interested in playing the role of the perfect hero that everyone at U.A. expected him to be, but that didn't mean he wasn't serious about his path.
"Okay," Jiro finally said, her voice softer now. "I won't push."
Izuku gave a small nod, his usual calm demeanor returning. "Good."
As he walked away, Jiro watched him go, feeling like she had only scratched the surface of who he really was. But for now, that was enough.
