Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sports have never really been Izuku’s thing.

They sounded fun at first, but no one wanted the fragile quirkless kid on their team, so naturally, he never participated. At first, his teachers would reassure him by saying things like “you’ll be picked next time” or “don’t worry, everybody will get a chance to play.” The older he got, he supposes, the less the teachers felt they had to lie to him. Empty excuses became far and few between at school. Both relevant parties were perfectly aware of where they stood, and neither made any attempt to change that, despite the blatant unfairness. Izuku wanted to play, he really did. Everybody else had a sport they either liked or were good at, so he made an effort to find one for himself as well, even if he had to do it on his own.

Basketball seemed interesting at first, but Izuku quickly realized it wasn’t for him. His frustratingly short stature made the game unnecessarily difficult. His jumps were low at best, and his throws were far-off despite the long hours spent in the attempt to hone his accuracy.

Volleyball soon became eliminated for similar reasons.

Soccer was a little more his strong suit, but not quite. For what he lacked in height, he surely made up for in speed. He’s always been fast, and his strength has always been centered around his lower body rather than his upper. Kicking the ball, however, was difficult for him. He guesses that launching anything away from his body is where things get shaky. He tried time and time again, practicing until late at night, with no improvement. And let it be known that Izuku has never shied away from hard work, so by no stretch of the imagination does he consider his lack of progress discouraging. He worked until he was no longer having fun, and once his mom took notice of this, she pulled him out.

He didn’t even try for football, that was practically begging to become a punching bag.

Swimming was a lot easier for him. He always enjoyed it, despite a slight aversion to water that he never really understood. There was nothing to launch unless he wanted to play with a beach ball or something, which he didn’t particularly care about, so he never did. The only thing he had to worry about was staying afloat. He had total control over his body, and he enjoyed it. Swimming felt less like a sport and more like a fun pastime that could be turned into one. He considered pursuing it, for a while. It could be the one thing he’s good at, besides quirk analysis. The only thing he didn’t like about the idea was the lack of ability to improve. The only thing that could be worked on was speed, so the idea of swimming on a sports team seemed monotonous to him. Boring. He’d rather keep it as an occasional fun outing activity, than something he does all the time. After a while, it became clear that the option wouldn’t have been open anyway. The beach he regularly swam at with his mom quickly became a ginormous landfill, and there were no pools he could visit where he lived. Swimming was fun, but ultimately, not what he was looking for.

He finally found what he was looking for in the shape of a skateboard halfway through his first year of middle school.

Walking back home from a particularly harrowing day, with his bullies’ jeers echoing in his mind, he caught a quick movement in the corner of his eye. A debilitating sort of stress bubbled up within him and he turned to the side quickly, worrying that Bakugo had followed him for ‘round two.’

His fear was soon proved to be unfounded, however, when he saw three high schoolers under the overpass. They all had skateboards with them, and two of them were cheering on their friend who just landed what looked to be a pretty complicated trick. Izuku is amazed, both by the precise and quick control the older boy seems to have over his board, and by the way his friends congratulate him on his success.

He realizes he must have been staring when the boy who did the trick spots him. He smiles at Izuku and beckons him over. Izuku looks around before pointing at himself and tilting his head, confused. The group waves him over, so Izuku pauses… and scurries over to the boy and his friends. They look at him with open, friendly expressions, and Izuku is struggling to fight off a blush at the attention.

“I’m Hikari,” says the one that beckoned him over. “I noticed you looking at our boards, do you wanna try?”

Surprise colored Izuku’s features as he looks up at the friendly kids he only just met. “...You’d let me do that?”

“Of course, it’s always cool to help out a rookie. And if you don’t want to, that’s cool too. I think you should give it a try though, it’ll be fun~.” The boy says the last part in a sing-songy voice, an attempt at persuasion that he didn’t bother to hide. Izuku smiles at Hikari and responds quickly, “sure, if you don’t mind!”

“Don’t worry, kid. Hikari wouldn’t have offered it if he minded,” says one of Hikari’s friends.

“Very true,” the other unnamed boy agrees.

Hikari rolls his eyes fondly and sets his skateboard down in front of Izuku. “Right, so you’ll want to put your non-dominant foot on the front of the board, with your dominant one on the back, and try to keep your weight in the center.”

Izuku does as he’s told, almost falling before Hikari grabs his shoulder to steady him. It takes a second, but Izuku soon finds himself in a comfortable position on the board, with his weight centered. He feels himself relying less on Hikari’s hand to keep himself balanced.

“There you go! Now when you push off, you’ll wanna use your dominant foot, which for you is the right one. That means you’re regular. As you take your right foot off the board to push, try to shift your weight onto your left one, at the front. That’ll keep you from immediately falling backward as soon as you try to move. I kept forgetting to shift my weight when I started skating and totally bruised myself up,” Hikari ends with a pleasant laugh. Izuku finds himself smiling widely at the boy’s kindness and clear enthusiasm, so he laughs too.

“I’ll try it then,” he says and lowers his foot to push off. He figures he must have not shifted his weight as much as necessary, however, because he instantly falls backward just like Hikari said. The aforementioned boy and one of his friends rush to catch Izuku before he hits the ground, and he’s grateful for it.

“Woah there! Don’t worry, it took us a couple tries too before we got it. Oh, I’m Daisuke, by the way,” the boy, Daisuke, says as Izuku steadies himself on the board once again. “That other guy right there is Kai, what about you?”

Izuku smiles at Daisuke and waves a little, “oh sorry, I’m Izuku, nice to meet you!”

Hikari looks happy as he responds, “nice to meet you too, Izuku-kun! Ready to try again?”

“Yeah!”

Kai laughs a little at his eagerness, and says “well go on then!”

Izuku lowers his right foot to the ground quickly, pushing most of his weight onto his left foot at the same time. He figures being faster about it will make him less likely to fall. It’s sort of like riding a bike, he thinks to himself, the slower you go, the harder it is to keep your balance.

Izuku pushes off and moves his right foot back onto the board before once again centering his weight, and he takes off as a result. He hears whoops and cheers behind him as he travels what was probably only 10 feet, but it felt much longer with the breeze brushing his face. He hears Hikari yell behind him, “Oh yeah! If you wanna stop, shift all your weight onto your front foot and let your right foot drag on the concrete. You’ll slow to a stop then.”

Izuku takes a second to absorb the new information before trying it out. He follows Hikari’s instructions and slowly skids to a stop. He looks back to see the three older kids running to congratulate him with smiling faces, and he can’t stop the happy blush that spreads across his face.

“Good job, Izuku! That was great for your first time on a skateboard.”

“Yeah, congrats!”

“I bet you’ll be doing ollies and shuvits in no time.”

As Hikari pats him on the back, Izuku feels a sudden rush of gratitude. This is the most fun he’s had in a long time, and it’s all because these high school kids who no doubt have better things to do than teach some stranger how to skate, took time out of their day for him.

“Thank you guys so much! You’re right, Hikari-san, this is fun.”

Hikari laughs delightedly and raises his hand to high-five Izuku, who doesn’t leave him hanging. “I’m glad, Izuku-kun, you looked like you needed to have some fun. Hey, what do you say about meeting here when we’re all done with school? If you really want to learn how to skate, we can teach you, if you’re up to it.”

Izuku looks at Hikari in excitement, then glances past him to Kai and Daisuke, “really? You wouldn’t mind?”

Hikari smiles at Izuku in reassurance, “what did Daisuke say? I wouldn’t have offered it if I minded.”

Izuku laughs and nods back at them, “that sounds great, then! Thank you.”

Kai chuckles and pats Izuku on the shoulder. “No problem, kid. Skating is fun, but sometimes it’s even more fun to see someone learn from the ground up like we did.”

Daisuke nods rapidly in response, “yeah, it reminds me of how I got into skating and how challenging it was at first, but that just made it all the more fun.”

Hikari continues where Daisuke left off, “teaching someone would be like reliving our own journey with skating, but in a new way. Though, Izuku-kun,” he says, with a slightly more serious expression on his face. “Skateboarding is a pretty dangerous sport. If you really want to learn, expect to get a lot of cuts and bruises, and make sure you know how to treat them. Infections really are the worst, you know?”

Izuku nods, “I understand. I still want to learn though.” And trust me, I know what you mean, he thinks silently, Kacchan made plenty sure of that.

“Well, it’s settled then. Let’s meet back here at the same time tomorrow, cool? And make sure to let your mom, dad, or whoever know, they’ll probably want an explanation for any injuries you might get.” Izuku notes that Hikari seems to be the responsible one in the group, despite his laid-back and casual attitude.

“That sounds good, and I’ll make sure to tell my mom, don’t worry.”

As the sun sets behind him, Izuku finds himself exchanging numbers with boys who are probably three or four years older than him, yet make the effort to be kind all the same. He smiles, genuinely, for what feels like the millionth time that day, but is still one of the first ones in years.

He walks home with a light heart, the cruel words of his school bullies utterly forgotten.

Izuku thinks he’s finally found a sport that fits him perfectly.

Chapter Text

“Just take a swan dive off of the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life!”

Bz-bzzt! The fluorescent light in the far corner flickers, as if distraught. The moth flying around it fumbles and dives a few inches as a result before continuing its harassment. Only the sounds of humming electricity and startled breathing permeate the desolate classroom. 

This quiet grows long and it grates on the very structure of the building, like one wrong word could bring the whole thing down on top of them. And in a way, it can.

Suddenly, Izuku felt a rush of shock and white-hot anger flow through him with the speed of water breaking through a dam for the first time. Don’t get him wrong, he’s felt this emotion plenty of times before, directed at a multitude of different targets. His teachers, for blaming and threatening him when he asked for help. His father, for leaving when he was diagnosed as quirkless as if it was some kind of disability, rather than the human default. He’s even felt angry at himself, for thinking anybody would willingly look his way. Angry at himself when it took him an unusually long amount of time to land a kickflip when it’s considered slightly easier than the heelflips that he does on pure muscle memory. Angry at himself for crying when Hikari and Kai had to move away for college after they graduated their third year of high school, but promised to keep in touch (the only promise anyone’s ever actually kept to him). But he had never felt anger to this heart-stuttering, vein-popping extent. He wonders if this is how Bakugo must feel all the time, then decides he doesn’t care. He had been forgiving thus far, even after a year and a half of his friends telling him that he shouldn’t have to be. 

They don’t talk with each other quite as much as they used to, but they’ll always respond in the group chat they created if any one of them needs advice or help with something. One thing they consistently agreed on was that Izuku needed to stand up for himself, and if he couldn’t do that because of the blatant discrimination from school staff, then he needs to distance himself from his bullies in any way possible. 

They helped him see Bakugou for what he really was, an abusive spoiled brat that society chose to represent itself. That’s the main reason why he began to call his former childhood friend by his surname during their second year of middle school. Another reason was that the continued use of that nickname made him feel pathetic, desperately clinging to memories of childhood before the world turned against him. Before he was forced to grow up too quickly. Before everyone decided he was worthless.

Izuku wants to, he really really wants to snap. He deserves just a little retaliation for everything his lifelong bully put him through, but that would be unheroic. He couldn’t let go of his moral compass, and he wouldn’t become like Bakugo. Realistically, even if his moral compass wasn’t so strong, fighting back would only make things worse for him later. A frustrating, yet unavoidable truth.

As a result, he takes a slow, deep breath and turns his head around to look at Bakugou. The anger was overpowering his other feelings, but Izuku was still scared, so when he turned around he simply decided to dial it up a notch or two. Putting on a convincing performance is the only way I won’t step on his fragile ego, after all, he thinks bitterly. And even then, there’s no guarantee.

Bakugo sends sparks from his palms in response to Izuku’s purposefully feeble glare. “What?” he says. Izuku takes that as his cue to cower a little more and says nothing.

Bakugo and his lackeys wait a second before walking out of the classroom, laughing about how he “can’t even defend himself.”

Once Izuku is left alone, he takes a moment to reflect on the new height Bakugo’s harassment has just reached. Suicide baiting has always been an option, he supposes, but it was generally considered taboo throughout the school. Until now, Izuku thinks, what does he think I did wrong? How did I supposedly “mess up” enough to deserve that? 

It was then that painful realization dawned on him that the boy he used to be friends with must truly be a completely different person now. He used to be able to tell exactly what pissed him off, but not anymore. He knew that Bakugou had changed a lot and that he wasn’t anything like he was back as a kid, but Izuku never realized just how different he is. It almost feels as if a villain has replaced the person he’s known since birth. 

But then, after the extremity of what he was just subjected to, Izuku wonders if he ever really knew Bakugo at all.

He resolves not to dwell on it until later. He needs an escape right now, so he plans to go to a new skatepark that got built a couple weeks ago and lose himself in the liberation of his favorite sport.

Izuku walks around to leave from the side entrance of the school, only stopping to fish his quirk analysis notebook out of the koi pond. No pun intended.

He starts on his way back home, taking his new route, which he changed after Hikari and Kai moved away. He couldn’t bear to see the spot under the overpass that used to hold so much joy for him, looking all desolate and lifeless. It wouldn’t look like that if the only other member of their group who was still here had time to practice with him, but Izuku guesses life is unfair to everyone in different ways. Daisuke, who is now in his third year of high school, doesn’t get much time to skate anymore. After his grandmother had to be sent to a nursing home when her dementia became too difficult for him and his dad to handle, the boy got a part-time job as a delivery man for a nearby skate shop to pay the resulting fees. Because of this, Izuku spends most of his time skating alone. It’s sad, he thinks, that his friend no longer has time for a sport he adored so much. The only silver lining was that the older boy was still surrounded by other people who also loved skating as much as he did, what with his job at DopeSketch.

Izuku arrives at his apartment and unlocks the front door, taking in the scent of home, which for him smelled of coffee and lavender oil (the latter, a result of his mom’s favorite laundry detergent). Closing the door behind him, he waves a silent greeting to his mom, who seems to be on the phone with her boss, but smiles and waves back at him before going back to her call.

The teen makes his way to his bedroom and quickly changes out of his uniform, seeing as it’s against the rules to wear it outside of school unless you’re going straight home. Izuku grabs his backpack and pulls his damp notebook out delicately, before laying it out, open, to dry. 

He then looks at one of his two skateboards. A particular deck is hung up on the wall over the head of his bed; it’s the first one that the nice manager Oka from DopeSketch made for him, and he just… gazes at it for a while.

He loves this skateboard dearly, as it was the first one he’s ever had. After mastering his first trick (a pop shove-it) using Daisuke’s board, Hikari took him to the pleasant skate shop for the first time. He met the manager and the cute little fox, Sketchy, that was the shop’s namesake. Immediately when he walked in, he remembered being in love with the comfortable atmosphere. It was only added to by the redhead over to the side that had greeted them warmly before he went back to stocking the shelves.

Hikari walked Izuku over to the man who introduced himself as Oka behind the counter and helped Izuku request a board that would fit his style. The manager took one look at Izuku and was happy to oblige, retrieving a pre-made deck from one of the display cases and going to have the trucks and wheels that Hikari requested put on within 20 minutes.

After that, they went to their group’s spot under the overpass and Hikari taught him about different board types, wheel sizes, trucks, bearings, et cetera. What would work best for him and what wouldn’t, based on how Izuku maneuvered his older friends’ boards. It was all guesswork, of course, the only way to truly tell what works best for him would be to try out different things, but they were at a good starting point.

That was how Izuku got a skateboard of his very own, and he adored it. He loved learning new tricks, loved that there was always more to learn, and he loved the extensive world that lay beyond his first ollie. Skateboarding was dynamic and ever-changing, you could never truly master it, but improvement is constant. He used it to get around and have fun whenever he was sure Bakugou wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He had decided to hide his new passion from the hurricane that was his childhood friend because he was afraid the boy would try to take it away from him. Izuku didn’t want his favorite thing to do besides quirk analysis to get destroyed, again .

But of course, with excessive use, comes mistakes. After landing a trick wrong once, he broke the tail of the board clean off, and his mother wasn’t keen on letting him potentially hurt himself by skating on a broken board. She knew about his bullies, but nobody listened to her pleas for help, so the least she could do was make sure her son didn’t suffer any unnecessary injuries outside of school. Of course, she couldn’t stop him from getting cut up and bruised when he was working on a new trick every once in a while, but she tried to help him keep it to a minimum. Anything to make her son happy. That’s why, when his first board broke, his mother surprised him by giving him the money to buy a new one. Izuku figures the elation on his face must have been clear as day if the way she hugged him afterward was any indication.

That was three months ago, and Izuku’s new board is even better than the last. Though his first one, scratched and broken and displayed with pride, will always hold a special place in his heart.

Izuku stands up from his bed and grabs his new one, smiling. After becoming a regular customer, with how often Izuku needed to patch the grip tape on his last board or buy new shoes, Oka offered to paint a custom image on the boy’s deck this time. Izuku was ecstatic and spent at least an hour drawing out design ideas with Manager Oka and Reki, the latter being that redheaded part-timer with an incredible amount of energy.

They eventually decided on a simple black base with a large green wave over it. The art itself was painted to be reminiscent of “The Great Wave of Kanagawa” by Hokusai, a classic woodblock art piece. Izuku loves it; he absolutely adores Oka’s work. The wave itself was intricately painted with various shades of green, highlighting the main emerald color. Each brushstroke was calculated and served a purpose, each slightly differing shade betraying the amount of thought and care put into it.

It took a week for the board to be finished, and he couldn’t have been any happier with the turnout. 

It’s a shame the art will get scratched up when he skates, but he supposes there’d be no point in having a beautiful board if he didn’t use it. Oka didn’t paint that deck for nothing.

Smiling widely at his reminiscence, Izuku grabs his most recent pair of skate shoes (it's crazy how quickly he goes through them), his separate skate backpack that he always has ready to go, and his beautiful board before walking back out to the living area of his apartment. He takes a notepad and pen from the dining table and writes a note to show his mom without interrupting her phone call, letting her know he’s going to a nearby skatepark and that he'll be home by sundown. He hands her the paper and she scans it, then gives him a thumbs up and a smile. Izuku returns the gesture and moves to grab his things and walks to the front door. Just before he starts to put on his shoes, however, he sees his mother waving him over with the piece of paper in her hand. He jogs over to her and reads it silently.

“Have fun, be careful.” It said,

Izuku smiled and wrote back “ don’t worry, I will.”

<><><><><><>

As Izuku rode his board to the park, he wondered just how many people would be there while he absentmindedly played with the chain connecting his wireless earbuds to an ear cuff. ( Stylish and practical, he had thought after he found them on a trip to the mall).

People usually go to the skatepark on weekends, and it was a Tuesday, so it’s unlikely that it’ll be super crowded. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were at least a few other people there, though, considering how recently the place opened. It was an outdoor skatepark, on the smaller side, not the type of place that would be a hotspot for much. But, he supposes that if there are enough skaters in his city that he wasn’t aware of, he shouldn’t be all that surprised if there were more people than expected.

Izuku doesn’t really like skating in crowded places. It makes him anxious. He doesn’t mind people watching him, but he’d always get distracted, worrying about trying not to run into anyone to the point where he couldn’t really have fun.

He soon discovers that he won’t have to worry about that, however, because as he arrives at the skatepark, he only notices two other people there. Each of them are off on their own, doing different things. One of them seems to be packing up to leave while the other, a boy his age who looks a bit familiar, seems to be practicing a complicated flip that Izuku doesn’t know the name of. The other boy is incredibly focused, however, so Izuku doesn’t intend to bother him. Though, it’s not like his anxiety would let him, either way.

Still listening to music, Izuku rides over to the opposite corner of the park from where the other boy is skating, so as not to distract him. He sets his bag down on a nearby bench and stretches his back a little, then sets his board back down and hops on. He pushes himself around, wondering what he should do first. 

The park is, again, relatively small. There’s a mini-ramp, a half-pipe, and a vert with some rails and stairs scattered around in between them. He pauses in his calculating observations and decides that maybe he should just stop thinking. One of the appeals of skating for him is how unrestricted he feels, having nothing to focus on apart from the wind in his hair and, y’know, not falling. It’s hard to turn off the part of his brain that anxiously scans his surroundings with a trained eye and makes plans for them, but he always has more fun when he just goes with the flow. Being able to spontaneously do whatever he wants in the moment, without feeling any pressure, is so rare for him that he follows it frequently. He fervently chases the high that comes with finally being free.

He skates to some nearby rails with wax from his bag in hand, rubbing it on the tops of them. He re-wraps the wax and puts it in his pocket (because he doesn’t want it to melt) and doubles back to the front area of the rails. 

Izuku rides forward and he loses himself.

He pulls a quick ollie into a frontside nosegrind until he makes it to the end of the metal, landing into a 180 shove-it safely on the ground. Following this, he decides to try a heelflip down a 5-stair gap, succeeds, and pulls around to where he saw the mini-ramp. Once he gets there, he uses a backside kickturn to build some momentum, before doing a rock fakie on the other side. He continues a comfortable and easy pattern: right, left, right, doing different little tricks once he reaches each side. Stuff that’s fun, but doesn’t really take any concentration to pull off. Right, axle stall, left, another rock fakie, right, nose stall revert, and so on. He’s more skating to the music that he’s listening to, than anything else. Something akin to a strange dance.

After a few minutes, though, he starts to get a little tired of this and decides to try something else. He does a 180 fly out of the mini-ramp, just for fun, and skates back to the general area where he set down his bag. He cruises around, doing tricks that steadily increase in difficulty. He starts off with a heelflip, and continues with a few kickflips, which have always been slightly harder for him. 

He does a few more tricks before his mind finally lands on the ones he wants to practice the most. He’s landed them before, but they could still use some cleaning up, so he sets to work with hardflips and impossibles. He learned from watching his friends last year that a hardflip was a combination of a pop shove-it and a kickflip. It, along with other “varial” flips, are considered a building block for other skate tricks. When he first learned to do one, he didn’t linger on it too long, preferring to learn as much as he could quickly out of excitement rather than taking the time to perfect each one. He’s been going over and mastering each of the tricks he had learned the last year and half, after most of his friend group had to leave and his perfectionist tendencies suddenly kicked back in with full force.

He took a considerably longer time trying to land an impossible ( aptly named , he used to think to himself) than any of the varial flips. It was a strange trick, but very pretty looking, so he was ecstatic when he finally got it down after a couple months of practice. 

He starts working on cleaning up these two tricks, falling on his back and rolling with the momentum every once in a while thanks to landing primo. It wasn’t anywhere close to how much he fell when he was first learning, though, so he’s grateful for that. Looking back, he honestly thinks his progression in skating was pretty great. He learned tricks slightly faster than average, and shifting his weight to accommodate whatever he was trying to accomplish became child’s play by the end of his first few months. He also thinks his analytic habits definitely came in handy whenever he was trying something new. He could watch another person land a trick once and know exactly how to replicate it, even if he wasn’t able to copy it himself on the first try. He could figure out the ‘ how,’ and afterward it was only a matter of getting used to the action of the trick.

He remembers that Hikari, Kai, and Daisuke used to compliment him endlessly on that fact. They taught him everything he knew, and they were impressed by his observations and work ethic. Not to mention his speed . Apparently, fast learners like Izuku are fairly hard to come by in skateboarding. He wouldn’t know, he’d always been like that. Eager to learn and even more so to please. He guesses other people don’t pick up on things quite as quickly as he does, but he thinks that anyone could be like him if they put their mind to it. His friends disagreed, saying he was a “different breed,” whatever that meant. They told him it was cool that he could use his mind to pretty much study his sport.

His sport, that feels good to think.

He allows his mind to wander around his friends, who are now distant, as he repeats the same two tricks over and over again. He misses them a lot. Skating alone is fun, relaxing, but not nearly as thrilling as doing it with friends. He doesn’t want to bother Daisuke, since he’s already got so much on his plate, and wonders who else would maybe want to skate with him sometime. He sure as hell wasn’t going to walk up to that other boy in the park, purely out of fear of talking to someone new, even if the kid was his age. He wonders if Reki, the nice part-timer from DopeSketch, would want to hang out sometime. He knew they both already considered each other friends. After all, their run-ins at the skate shop and on the street for the past year and a half managed to build a solid bond between them. But Reki is a second-year in high school while Izuku is a third-year middle schooler, he probably has better things to do. Izuku does know that Reki would never judge him, though, so he reminds himself to politely inquire about the older boy’s schedule the next time they meet.

After working on hardflips and impossibles for what he thinks might have been somewhere close to 20 or 25 minutes, he steps onto the nose of his board to pick it up from the tail and walks back to the bench where he set his stuff. He leans his board on the side of it and takes a seat, digging out a water bottle from his bag and drinking slowly, so that he doesn’t overwhelm himself.

Izuku starts to think about which tricks he wants to improve on next. Both of the ones he practiced today still need work, but he doesn’t want to tire himself out on them. He wants to rotate the things he’s improving on regularly, so that he doesn’t end up getting bored. It’s unlikely that he’ll get bored of anything related to skateboarding, but his analytical mind didn’t much appreciate doing the same thing over and over again. Rationally speaking, even the most exciting things in the world could become monotonous with enough repetition. 

“Hey, slime!” he hears someone yell.

Izuku startles and pauses the Doja Cat song he’s listening to through his earbuds. Surprised, he looks up to see the boy from earlier walking in his direction. Looks like he didn’t have to do anything after all, the stranger came to Izuku by himself. He has black hair in a style reminiscent of a fashionable mullet. In fact, everything about the kid seemed fashionable, from his stylish hair and alternative, yet put-together (somewhat classy?) clothing, to the confidence in the way he walks. The short-sleeved white button up with blue trim looked good with the knee length cargo shorts and suspenders hanging loosely from his belt-loops that he wore. His eyes were only a shade lighter than Izuku’s own hair.

One thing that catches Izuku’s attention, however, is what the boy called him. 

Slime? He thinks, blinking in confusion, what is that supposed to mean? Is it because my hair is green?

His silent question goes unanswered by the boy who nonchalantly sits on the bench next to him, leaning back on his hands while he swings his legs into a crossed position. He has an inquiring smirk on his face.

“I saw you skating,” he started, which made Izuku’s anxiety spike before the stranger continued. “You’re pretty average, but your attitude is different from most other skaters I’ve met. When did you start?” 

The “and why?” went unsaid but not unheard.

Izuku blinks, not quite knowing if there was a specific way he was supposed to answer or not, so he responds honestly. “I started a year and a half ago and… I don’t know, I guess I skate because it makes me feel free. I had friends who introduced me to it.”

The boy’s eyes seem to look through him, and his expression flickers with something too quickly for Izuku to recognize what it is.

“It makes you feel free …hm, interesting,” Mystery Boy mumbled before speaking up. “What’s your name, slime?”

Izuku raises his eyebrow and sends the boy a light-hearted glare at the strange nickname, then answers “I’m Izuku Midoriya. What about you, stranger?”

The boy's lips turn upward just the slightest amount at Izuku’s inquiry. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard about me already, since you’ve been a skater for almost two years now. My name is Miya Chinen, I’m trying to get onto the Japanese national team.”

Izuku’s eyes widen and suddenly, he remembers why he recognized the boy in front of him when he first arrived. “Woah, really? That makes sense then, I guess. I thought I just got deja vu when I saw you earlier.”

Chinen laughs a little at that and looks back at Izuku, “I think I like you, slime. Call me Miya. You might be an average skater, but something tells me you’ll be a challenge. We should race sometime.”

Izuku smiles at Miya and quickly responds to his new… friend? Yeah, friend sounds good. “Sure, that sounds like fun! I’ve never really raced anyone before, so I’m not sure how that works, sorry,” he frets a little. “Oh, and you can call me Izuku, it’s only fair.”

Miya’s eyes light up in a mix of excitement and amusement, “thanks, slimeboy, I’ll make sure to use your name at some point. And don’t worry, I know just the place for a great beef.”

Izuku thanks Miya and thinks this is a good time to ask a question that’s been on his mind since he first arrived. “What trick were you practicing earlier? I didn’t recognize it.”

The other teen tilts his head to the side before responding, “oh that? I was brushing up on laser flips when you arrived, so that was probably what you saw. I moved on to tre and double flips after that, then just did whatever. That’s when I noticed you practicing… nice impossibles, by the way.” 

Izuku brightens even more at the boy’s compliment. “Thanks!” He smiles, relaxing into the conversation. “And yeah, I guess the laser flip must’ve been what I saw you doing. Now that I think about it, it did look familiar, but hindsight is 20/20, hm? I’ve never actually landed one before.”

Miya seems a little surprised at that and a thought seems to rattle around in his mind before he voices it, slightly hesitant. “I guess… I could teach you, if you want. You seem like you might be talented enough to get it, especially under my tutelage.” He adds the last part a little smugly. Not condescending smug, no, he doesn’t seem like Bakugo. Miya’s type of smugness is more playful, like it’s part of his humor. Izuku finds that he likes that type of attitude, can appreciate the nuances of it, so he laughs quietly and agrees to the offer.

“Sounds good!”

They spend the next few hours hanging out in the skatepark. Miya practicing a routine for a competition that was announced recently, and Izuku trying to learn how to do a laser flip. He finds it very difficult, and his respect for Miya only rises higher. The pro makes it a point to give Izuku tips and advice every once in a while to help him improve, and he doesn’t try to hide his gratitude. Miya tends to brush off Izuku’s thanks with a mumbled “whatever,” but he can still see the small smile on the boy’s face grow with each praise.

They end up exchanging numbers so Miya can send along more information about their upcoming race, and Izuku thinks that his deja vu comment might not have been so inaccurate earlier. This situation is strangely similar, yet weirdly different, to the fateful meeting that sparked his passion for skating in the first place. He smiles at the thought; maybe he’ll finally have a new ‘board buddy,’ after all.

After both of them tire themselves out, they continue chatting on the bench for another hour after that. Izuku explains his work on perfecting tricks he learned a while ago with Miya giving him tips on how to do so. He also goes on short philosophical rants about the skateboarding industry and how it’s perceived, which only seemed to pique Miya’s intrigue of the other boy even more. It was a fun exchange for Izuku and he hoped that the case was the same for Miya. For the first time since he was a toddler, before he was forced to grow up too quickly, Izuku got to act normal. He enjoys chatting with a friend his age about their passions and he decides that he’ll never take this for granted.

As they notice the sun begin to lower, the both of them plan to pack up and keep talking later, whether that be over text or the next time they meet up. 

After exchanging reluctant, yet delighted farewells with Miya, Izuku makes his way home. He rides his board back to his apartment as dusk falls with an immovable grin on his face, thrilled at the prospect of not having to feel alone anymore.

Unbeknownst to him, a similar expression lied on the other boy’s face for similar reasons. (Now he had someone that he felt like he fit in with, that got him. Even his friends at S had someone they usually paired up to hang out with, leaving Miya the odd one out. He thinks now, he’s finally found someone he can understand, and who can understand him in turn.)

Both boys skate to their respective homes with light hearts, the worries earlier in the day forgotten completely in the joy of having fun with a friend who shares a love for their favorite sport. 

Izuku greets his mother cheerfully when he gets home, offering to help her make dinner while she asks about his day.

Yeah, Izuku is no stranger to the white-hot anger he felt from Bakugo’s taunts at school, but he thinks that particular emotion pales in comparison to the pure elation he's feeling right now after skating with Miya.