When Kazuichi Souda had first entered Hopes Peak Academy he had not expected that on his 20th Birthday he'd be approached by the Ultimate Fashion Idol and asked to build her a set of 15 Executions, all specially designed to kill his friends.

He'd expected even less that he'd agree to such an absurd and insane proposition.

But here he was, lounging comfortably back in his chair, with the Fashion Idol grinning down on him with that smile that could – to this day – be found on magazine covers. From her perch on the edge of the table, she swung her legs with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old, not the 19 year old crazed maniac she was.

"So whatdya say? You up for the challenge?" Her voice had settled on a sing song like tone, but it would probably change again soon. The divas personality changed quicker than her wardrobe and Souda had to admit, it was a pain in the ass to talk to her sometimes.

He picked at a piece of rust on his trusty spanner, forcing a look of nonchalant onto his face. "Challenge? What challenge? This is easy, Junko. Give me a real project."

The pink haired Despair pouted at him. "But Souuuuuuuda, I need someone I can trust on this one! And this IS a big project. This isn't your run of the mill, drowning, hanging, bashing witch trial execution, this is gonna be huge! Each one's gonna be personalised, and full of total utter despair!" There it was, whatever personality this one was. It was too loud and excited for Souda's taste – and ears.

Junko was practically shaking with excitement, hugging herself as if to try and contain her feelings. Her eyes were dazed and her mouth was practically drooling. Souda looked away in disgust, his pink brows knitting together into a thoughtful frown.

"What do you mean by personalised?" The words left his mouth involuntarily, his curiosity getting the better of him. This only prompted Junko's wide grin to grow into a Cheshire cat smile - it was demonic and frightening. It made Souda smile himself.

That was the thing about her curse. Once you were under it you started to think a little like her, feel and think like her. Enjoy despair like her. It was disgusting, a part of you always knows something is wrong, clings onto that part of humanity you once held. But it's not like that part of you is anything more than just a voice in the back of your head.

Souda's voice was screaming at him, telling him to sock that pink haired bitch in the face. To tell her to stick those plans where the sun don't shine. To take this wrench and bludgeon her with it, or better yet-

"Personalised! Like to everyone's Ultimates duh! I've got all the plans drawn up already, so you don't have to do the creative thinking part," She winked at him like she was doing him some favour. "All you gotta do is make them all. I'll get some of the others to go out and fetch you any materials you need." She waved a hand in the air nonchalantly.

The others. She meant his classmates. His friends who'd fallen into despair with him.

They were just tools for Junko to get her way with the world. Can't have a plan with no man power to carry them out, and his classmates had the perfect selection of Ultimates for Junko to use.

But they weren't the only ones - Souda was a tool too. He was Junko's favourite, she'd said that enough times, because of his ability to create basically anything. Of course, The Ultimate Despair had loved Sonia's influence in taking over her whole country only to send it spiralling into mass chaos and rioting, as well as Mahirus ability to spread Despair with her beautiful images of said chaos.

But she'd picked Souda as her favourite, because with his Ultimate Mechanic title she'd found he was incredibly adept at creating huge robots. And even though she had a huge construction lines worth of Monokumas flowing out of Towa City, Souda could make then hundreds of times bigger and better. More than Monaca could promise her. And a little-known fact about Junko was that she loved Huge Robots of Mass Destruction. Therefore, Souda was her favourite little tool.

And of course, he was also incredibly useful to her in her current project. The Killing School Life. She needed someone to make her main events. The true icing on the cake. The despair.

The executions.

Junko pulled out a roll of blueprints from seemingly nowhere, and suddenly she was wearing those damn glasses as if she was about to lecture Souda in Quantum Physics – which knowing some of her moods, she might actually do. She hopped off the table, spreading the blue prints out in the spot she'd been sat, and motioned for Souda to come over. He left his seat with a sigh, and peered over her shoulder at the prints.

"What's this then?" He asked, even though he could probably guess. Each blueprint had a picture of a student from Hopes Peak, along with their name and a set of sketches of some kind of machine or device.

On one, he could see 'Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimming Pro' printed, along with a photo of a smiling brown-haired girl with wide blue eyes. Next to her photo was a drawing of what looked like a large… tank?

Another showed 'Sayaka Maizono, the Ultimate Pop Sensation', with a photo of a girl with long blue hair. This time the drawing showed a large stage and some kind of meter.

Sakura, Makoto, Hifumi. The names went on. Kiyotaka, Mondo, Chihiro, Byakuya, Hagakure, Kirigiri, Celeste, Toko…

His hand snatched up the last blueprint. Junko; apparently explaining in response to his previous question, actually shut up at this, a small smile making its way onto her face. "Find something?"

Souda didn't respond, his eyes refusing to leave the piece of paper in his hands. No. This was bullshit. This was stretching even for her. She didn't seriously think he would-

He smiled.

Oh, the irony. The cruel, cruel irony. He could feel its icy grips covering him, taking him under again. Taking him into the inky black, numb abyss. The pain there was all he felt and it was welcoming. Such grief, such sadness. It was true and utter… despair.

His vision grew darker again, and he could feel himself chuckling against his will. It was a dry laugh, and it sounded so much unlike him. But he wasn't in control anymore. It was.

She was.

The piece of paper dropped out of his hands, and he was striding toward the door before he even knew what was happening. He heard Junko call after him. "Where do you think you're going?"

His lips moved on his own, and with a voice completely devoid of any sanity he replied, "To work of course!"

The piece of paper lay discarded on the floor for many hours, slowly collecting dust. A pale face with a wide grin and fiery red hair looked up from the paper, and next to him the drawing that had sent Souda spiralling into despair once more.

An auto pitcher.

It just so happened that this exact model was his present on his 18th birthday.