The world was bright. Sunlight, harsh and unforgiving, pushed its way through Hajime's eyelids. He groaned softly. His thoughts wouldn't settle, and his head throbbed, every wave synchronising with the sound of the crashing ocean.

The ocean…? That's right…there was a door…a classroom? The walls, they fell away. That couldn't possibly happen…that's not logical…how could it be real?

It wasn't.

The response shook him to the core. That…I didn't think that. "Who?" he wheezed aloud. He pulled himself up, eyelids tight and crusted with sleep. Sand hissed softly as it fell from his hair and he glanced around, eyes scanning the beach. It was deserted.

"They left me here," Hajime couldn't decide whether he was shocked or annoyed at the revelation.

There was a boy here, waiting for us to wake. I sent him off a while earlier while you were wasting time.

"I wasn't wasting time, I was unconscious!" Hajime spluttered. He froze and again looked around him. "Wait, where?"

The voice sighed. Hajime thought he could detect an edge of contempt in the response.

I do not advise talking to me aloud. It makes a bad habit, one that will give people cause to think you mad. My name is Izuru Kamakura. I am audible to you, and only you. And before you start on whatever inevitable rant you're sure to go on, I am not pleased with the situation either. Though I suppose this situation intrigues me enough.

"Izuru?" he whispers to himself. His head throbbed and white light seemed to flash behind his eyes. That name… he knew that name…why? And that rabbit, back in the classroom had welcomed them to Hope's Peak Academy, as if they were started the semester. But that wasn't right. He was sure he'd already gone to Hope's Peak, for months even. But the more he reached for the memories, the more they fled.

"Dammit," he hissed in frustration. "Why can't I…?"

Your memories have been removed.

What?! He bolted upright. "You-" he stopped and silenced himself. You know something. What is it? And you still didn't tell me who you were. A name isn't an identity.

There was a pause.

…I suppose it isn't. Very well, I am known by a few titles. I am known as the Ultimate Hope, the Ultimate Ultimate, and more recently, Ultimate Despair. As for what I know, I am afraid that will make this game too easy, and therefore much too boring.

How can you be both Ultimate Hope and Despair at the same time? What do those titles even mean? Plus, what's an Ultimate Ultimate anyway? I don't see how this has anything to do with me, or why you're in my head.

Hajime swore he almost heard another sigh as the voice responded.

It means what it means. My title of Ultimate Ultimate refers to my mastery of all human talent; ergo I am the 'Ultimate' of all 'Ultimates'. As for how I am connected to you, I don't believe you ever asked. A shadow of smirk seemed to grace "Izuru's" voice. Though since I'm sure you're bound to pester me if I don't at least address it, I'll give you some insight into our predicament. Another pause. You are me. You are me, but I am not you. We are not meant to exist here, at the same state, at the same time, and so I am here, tethered to you as you play this game.

That doesn't make any sense! If I am you, aren't you me? And since when do I have multiple personality disorder? What game do you keep talking about?

"I've hit my head too hard," Hajime mumbled to himself. "I'm talking to a voice in my head."

As expected, you are mind-numbingly boring. Since you cannot seem to accept or comprehend my existence fully without additional proof, I suggest you take a look at yourself in the water.

You mean my reflection?

Hajime crawled his way to the edge of the beach where the waves lapped at the sand, and hauling himself to his feet, peering into the crystal waters. His reflection stared back at him. Eyes, pale green with that strange lighter ring looked back at him, cynical eyes searching. His hair was the same also, short, brown and choppy, a permanent mess with that one chunk that never seemed to smooth. His favourite white shirt and green tie clung to his torso, damp from lying in the spray.

It's just me. I don't look any different.

Wait.

Hajime felt something in the back of his mind shift, like the coils of a serpent unravelling. He stiffened at the sensation, and he forced to keep his eyes focused on the water.

Calm yourself.

There was a small, internal snap and Hajime found his reflection changed. His eyes were red. In the shadows cast by his hair they almost seemed to glow, while in the sunlight, the colour was soft and less noticeable. The ring that circled his pupil seemed different also. He'd been told it almost looked like a prohibition sign in the past, but he'd waved off the conjecture as overactive imaginations. Now, though, he watched at the ring seemed to slide, and the crossing line slid to the outside of the circle. It was…disturbing how quickly they had changed. He felt himself shift and watched his posture in the reflection change. New posture, new eyes…for a moment, he swore his hair darkened a few shades, but waved it off as a trick of the light.

He continued to stare for a few more moments in shock before he tried to move. In a flash of panic, he found he couldn't.

"Relax." He flinched at the sound of his own voice filling the air. "I have no interest in controlling this body longer than I have to. This is simply a demonstration. Despite how they've…botched your memory wipe and allowing my presence access here, you are still a player in this game, one I wish to watch from the sidelines. Now, I suggest you introduce yourself to your classmates, before you find yourself excluded."

What was that about not talking aloud before?

I am not so likely to mistakenly reveal our presence.

Suddenly, Hajime found the veil snap backwards and the feeling of coils winding in the back of his head. He took a deep breath, the biggest he could, and tried not to have an anxiety attack. That was frankly terrifying.

Do not be so dramatic.

That wasn't for you. And I don't think I'm the dramatic one here.

Izuru remained silent at that, and Hajime silently counted his blessings. Doing his best to rub the remainder of the sand out his hair and pant pockets. He made his way off of the beach, ducking under fallen palm leaves before stepping onto a path. Shrugging, he followed it, fear, anxiety, and the hot summer sun beating down on his nerves.