Save my soul [Boku no Hero Academia]

.:6:.

This morning was like any other or, at least, it should have been. Normal, was waking up at least 5 minutes before my alarm would begin to sound; it was finding my mind drifting as submit myself to my usual routine. Normal, was grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl in the centre of the dining table, kissing my parents on the cheek and leaving a good few minutes before the bell for school would sound.

The walk to the school gates is where things started to get, for the lack of a better word, odd. The usually quiet pavement was abuzz with chatter, at the gates, blocked off by security guards were a multitude of reporters. Each speaking over one another, cameras and microphones were thrust in the faces of the passing students, a flurry of questions bombarding them before teachers and guards ushered the students to the safety of the entrance.

Dread filled me from the soles of my feet to the tips of hair, trembling hands clutching for purchase onto the strap of my book bag, which suddenly felt all too heavy. I gulped so loud I feared it would alert the crowd of reporters, hesitant feet shuffled along the pavement, heels scraping against the cement. I could hear the loud, yet somehow far away, beating of my heart drumming in my ears before it stopped, jumping over a beat as eyes locked on me.

Eyes hungry for information searched over my form, narrowing in on the familiar UA colours that decorated my body, the crowd rushed over, leaving the security gaurd in the dust as they swarmed towards me, fighting over one another, heavy duty cameras held above their heads to zone in on me above the bombard of people.

I found myself encased in a swarm of people, microphones held a little too close for comfort, questions burst out over one another in an unintelligable garble of noise. I did my best to shrink down, praying to make myself invisible, breath hitching in anxiety. I breathed too hard yet not enough, sweat seeping through my palms I gripped the leather strap of my book bag so tightly, I could have sworn I heard the material squeak under pressure.

"P-please let me get to class"

I barely recognized my own voice as it left my lips, meek and pathetic. Unheard over the bustling crowd and the distant ring of the tardy bell going off in the background, ignoring the fear that had thrummed through me, above all, I was disappointed. Disappointed in myself at my reaction, and my nervousness and overwhelmed display, knowing that when I become a hero; if I become a hero this would be my reality. The reporters and the cameras, the questions and the people, this is something I would have to subject myself to and it was something I had no choice over, not if this was the path I wanted to take.

My breath was picking up, lungs burning at the short gasps of air, not carrying nearly enough oxygen to my lungs. Knees trembling and threatening to buckle under my weight, my eyes clenching shut as I lowered my head to the ground. The last thing I wanted was to show such a weak version of myself on live television across the nation, I wanted to be remembered, seen as a symbol of hope, someone other people could trust, not a trembling student cowering in front of a camera.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing harrassing a student, do you want to get arrested?"

The voice wasn't particularly loud, nor did it sound very concerned, yet the overbearing questions came to an abrupt stop, reporters spreading in a clear path to the person who had come to my rescue.

"Sensei" I breathed out, eyes opening to look upon none other than my home room teacher. Lazy eyes stared down at me "you're late, get to class before I mark you as late", back stiffening, I stood straight. Fear and anxiety that had once filled me to the brim seeped away, with a shaky smile, I bowed politely "yes, sensei".

Jogging towards him and through the clear path the reporters had made, I bit my lip, pausing at his side "I'm sorry Sensei, I couldn't even handle a few reporters" I whispered under my breath. Head down in shame, I felt the familiar prick of pain as my nails embedded themselves in my palms. One hand lifted out of his pockets, he dropped the hand onto my head, not quite ruffling my hair, practically using my head as a rest.