Flaws [BNHA x Pokemon!Reader]

5: My Hero

This is a nightmare.

Actually, you wished it was a nightmare. At least in that case you would be able to wake up, brush off the fading memory, and move on with your life. But unfortunately, it was reality.

Gathered in front of the UA gates was a swarm of reporters. No, more than a swarm: an ocean. At first you had thought something had happened, maybe there had been a car crash right outside of your school and a lot of people had gathered to see what all the fuss was about. But then you looked a bit closer and saw that most everyone there was either holding a camera or a microphone, and the realization that they were reporters dawned on you.

Kill me now, you groaned, tugging the strap of your bag closer toward your body. Aizawa had complained quite a few times about reporters during your PPA outings (hence his decision to become an underground hero), but you had no idea how intimidating they could actually be. Add that to the fact that you didn't even know why they were there and you had never felt so much like turning around and calling in sick in your life.

But alas, you instead made your way to the edge of the crowd and began to squeeze your way through. You had never muttered so many "excuse me"'s in your life. It went surprisingly smoother than you had expected and you could see the front gate just in front of you when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. Whoever it was had sharp nails and they dug into your skin, making you cry out.

"Excuse me," it was a brown haired woman with a piercing voice. She pulled you toward her and shoved a microphone in your face. "What can you tell us about having All Might as a teacher?"

All this over All Might? You thought. This guy's even more popular than I thought.

You felt your brain turning into mush and you began to stammer out a series of incoherent words. There was nothing you wanted more than to escape, but the woman's grip was like an iron vice.

"P-Please let go of me," you managed to sputter out. If it was possible, her fingers only grew tighter. There would definitely be marks on your skin after this.

"Just give us a bit of information," the woman snapped. "We've been waiting out here all morning."

You began to try and wrench your arm away, a seemingly futile fight, when a deep voice spoke from behind you. "She said to let go of her arm."

Glancing toward the speaker, you saw a boy around your age with wild purple hair and bags under his eyes that could rival Aizawa's. He was looking at the reporter with a glare that would have almost seemed bored if it hadn't been for the blaze behind them.

"Why aren't you listening to her?" The boy asked.

The woman scoffed. "Because I–"

Instantly, the woman stopped speaking. Her face went slack and her eyes faded over into a dull white. Her hand fell away from your arm and you blinked in surprise.

"Go home and don't come back," the boy said. Like a soldier following a command, the reporter turned and made her way out of the crowd. Her cameraman trailed after her in confusion. The boy placed a hand on your shoulder and led you through the last few feet of reporters and through the UA gate.

"Thanks," you breathed as soon as you were free. "I owe you one."

The boy shrugged. "It's fine. She was a bitch. I should've told her to quit and move to the middle of nowhere."

You chuckled. "I don't know if she would've done all that, but seriously–thanks for getting her to leave me alone. Your powers of persuasion must be better than mine."

"Something like that," the boy's face was unreadable and he turned around after speaking, leaving without so much as a goodbye.

"Hey," you called out. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"