After midnight

Discharge

━━━━━━◅►━━━━━━
Monday. 10:05pm

The leather cushions reek of cigarette smoke and desperation.

Izuku pulls up the zipper to his sweater, bracing himself as cold winds break through the rising windshields of the train.

He steps onto the locomotive, release a long, heavy breath, and sinks his hands into his pockets clutching one stress-relieving ball in his left hand.

He mutters apologies and smiles too brightly for this kind of an evening to strangers: fellow workers and hard-pressed citizens who thrived off of copious amounts of coffee and whispered half-conscious promises into the bitter winter air once they were out of earshot. Izuku brings himself to smile when he can, especially to the mothers and children he comes across, earning either baffled expressions in return or a sheepish wave or two.

His back tight, he gradually takes his seat exactly six rows in the back, where not a single soul waits.

Night seeps through the frosted glass, stars glistening like trapped fireflies in an otherwise black-as-soot sky.

Izuku sets aside his backpack and removes a thick wad of old newspaper clippings, some outlined with the Daily Inkling's traditional emblem. Pictures of a slender, tall man with wooden skin and elongated, intertwining limbs studded in leaves are slapped onto each article, accompanied only occasionally by a curvaceous woman who stood at a miraculous fifty feet in height.

The announcement of yet another heroic intervention from only two of many retired professional heroes sparks something longing and yet, awe-inspired within Izuku; it had been years since it was considered for Quirks to be used domestically and without the confines of heroic agencies, and to be able to glance over these photographs and timely articles as if they happened yesterday was enthralling.

They boasted strength that he would never know or experience outside of his dreams, but even so, he can't suppress the elated smile that stretches out his lips when he can finally read these new issues and enjoy them on his lonesome after work and school.

They're old articles, smothered in cobwebs and stashed in the back of old boxes on the sidewalk that he bothers rifling through when he has the chance. He still has commemorative posters of his favorite childhood heroes strung up in his room, some more recognizable than others, and he was one of few people he knew who refused to sell his old merchandise online after the incredibly quick decline of Quirks being used in professions.

It took only a few years for the government to instill those beliefs in the general public. Heroes were quickly subdued to remaining with their Quirks in casual professions in the office, stowed away from the public and committed to ideas that were more trivial and stress-inducing than what was commonly believed. Izuku struggled believing in this concept or even finding reason with the government's decision to enact those practices, and the retirement of All-Might, in particular, had forced him to reconsider his dreams.

They're still amazing, he thinks, grinning even wider as he pieces together certain clippings, even if we only have a few hidden reminders once in a while.

He hums, glancing over the papers.

"Maybe I should put these together for the school paper... Iida would be fine with that, wouldn't he? He likes the superhero column. I could turn it into a more appreciative section... maybe that would work better? But then again I've already written a lot of articles about Quirks and stuff. Oh, I could put more photos in that one section that we haven't paid attention to in a while. But then again Uraraka might not like it and she has the final say... but maybe Momo could help me out and it could be fine after that...?"