A/N: Was this worth the wait? Probably not.
It was a rubbish idea from the beginning, and Ibuki Mioda realized that too late.
Her little "stunt" resulted in nothing less than a broken guitar, an even more shattered spirit, and her being ejected from the manor. That was the sole reason why Ibuki was currently sat at one of the many dinner tables set outside on the front lawn. None of the other guests dared to stay in her general vicinity after seeing what she was capable of, so she happened to have six more empty tables surrounding her. If it hadn't been so ironically painful, she might have been tempted to indulge her child side and build a makeshift fort out of them.
Speaking of being a child, Ibuki almost wished she was old enough to get a drink from the open bar. She had heard that some adults drank to drown their sorrows; maybe it would work for her too? Not like she'd get a chance to find out anyway, since she was still a few years from reaching the legal age. She contented herself with the glass in her hands and kept staring at the tablecloth.
The events that transpired less than fifteen minutes ago kept replaying in her mind. Though she was looking at nothing but white linen, her eyes saw a different reality. She kept reconstructing the memory over and over, grabbing pieces from here and there to form a splotchy image.
Four girls climbed the stage. The leader introduced the band and got the general pleasantries out of the way so they could start playing. Ibuki tightened the grip on her pick, and…
That was all she really wanted to remember. Her past actions cut deep, especially since she knew there was zero chance for redemption. With any luck, she'd still be able to salvage a career from the shards of her shattered reputation tomorrow morning. Luck, however, was a fickle force, and there was no doubt that Fortuna was scowling down on her tonight. Still, it was just in Ibuki's nature to be optimistic, so she tried to find something positive amidst this entire fiasco.
Well… Once you hit rock bottom, the only way left to go is up, right? Then Ibuki will climb this mountain with all her might!
Believing that her streak of misfortune was over, the eccentric guitarist mentally consoled herself as a man walked up to her seat.
Fate was being an arse tonight, it seemed.
Or perhaps this, too, was prophesized?
"Is this seat taken?" The gentleman asked as he pulled the chair adjacent to her out from under the table and took his seat, giving the rockstar zero time to respond. She figured that she should still say something to the man; she may have been glooming, but it didn't excuse any rude behavior.
"Oh! No, no, nobody's…using that seat…" She mumbled as she straightened her posture and took her face off the tablecloth to get a clear look at her new guest. The man was wearing a suit like most of the other critics here, so through the fantastical powers of cognitive reasoning, Ibuki concluded that he was one of them. He also sported a fedora, albeit faded, and a bit of facial hair; aside from that, there weren't any other defining features that made him stand out amongst the sea of suits here.
The guitarist quickly recognized the opportunity presented to her. Here was a music critic that was personally coming to talk to her even after her little debacle on stage. Was he not repulsed, or did he have some kind of sick fetish for disaster? It was nearly unheard of for a critic to personally go up and talk to a musician one-on-one at the Battle of The Bands, but it did happen occasionally. There was usually only one reason for such an encounter though: a proposition.
Yes, the spoils of luck were certainly flowing to Ibuki's side; all she had to do was press forward.
Ibuki's hands rushed to fix her hair, particularly her horns. She needed to look like she wasn't dying internally for at least five minutes. "I guess introductions are necessary, right? Alright, I-!"
"Oh, I already know your name," the man butted in, and with a warm smile no less. "I don't think anyone here will forget your name for quite a while."
Ibuki bit her tongue, mentally face palming at her blunder. This conversation was not off to a good start. Luckily, the young man continued the conversation for her.
"You're pretty brave to do something like that, you know. I realize what you were trying to pull in there, but you're really something else! Although, I really should be used to this kind of thing by now."
Ibuki's jaw tightened as she heard his words.
Wh-what was I "pulling"? All Ibuki did was act on instinct as always—that's the only way to play music, right?! I mean, Ibuki was doing what was best for her! We didn't mesh well together anyway, and if bandmates don't mesh well together, then-!
She felt a small twinge as she tried to justify her actions. Maybe throwing her bandmates under the bus hadn't been as good an idea as it had originally appeared to be, but she couldn't take back what she'd done. How could she apologize for something like that?
"I-I-Ibuki knows what you're going to say, and the network probably already censored her out, but she's got something she wants to s-" Ibuki stammered out nervously as she tried to think of a way to explain her—even she could admit—childish actions, but the blonde man appeared to be making it a habit to interrupt her. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, stopping her train of thought, and made eye contact. She stared back unwillingly, and to her surprise, she found no malice or strictness in his cerulean gaze. In fact, it lacked everything Ibuki expected to see; she expected to be lectured, much like a parent might do to a child.
"Hey, you don't have to pretend," he spoke sternly and slowly, "I could see the whole picture from down there, y'know? You're not happy with your band, are you?"
Ibuki stared for a bit longer until she realized he was waiting for a response. Her voice refused to emerge from her mouth due to some unknown reason, but she slowly nodded her head to let him know that she was listening.
"That's why you decided to pull the rug out from under them and steal the show for yourself, right?"
She nodded again.
"Did your bandmates know of your plan?"
She shook her head.
The man let out a large sigh and adjusted his fedora, although Ibuki couldn't see anything wrong with it from where she was sitting. "Well, I get tired of having to do this every time but if I don't, the committee will get on my back."
He reached inside his jacket and proceeded to pull out what appeared to be a small envelope. While his intentions were to hand it over to the young girl, he stared at it warily, deep in thought. His eyebrows scrunched up and he quickly shoved it back into his pocket.
"Actually, we need to discuss your circumstances first; formalities and such, you know how it is," the man waved a hand dismissively as if to clear the tension in the air. Ibuki was still at a lost: she had no idea what the circumstances were, what the envelope was, or what this man actually wanted with her. "Let's go over the incident from the beginning, how about that? I feel that this would be a good way for you to understand the situation from my point of view."
This certainly did not appear to bode well for the talented guitarist. Ibuki was already fidgeting in her seat and scraping her nails against her chair at the mere thought of what he might say. The suited man looked for no sign to continue (or not) before he began retelling the story.
"You and your bandmates got on that stage at around 10:30. Hey, wasn't your rival band playing right before you four? If I remember correctly, the Black Cherries was their name. They were okay. Not the kind of thing I'd listen to on my free time, but I can understand the appeal. Like I was saying, you guys went up on stage and set up your equipment around that time and your leader began speaking to the crowd as per customs. She had a pretty soothing and mature voice for a girl her age, don't you think? I actually thought she was going to be the vocalist for your band at first, but then-"
"Stop!" Ibuki's core shook with spite as she spat out thoughtless words. "Just stop! I was in there too! I know what happened! What do you want!? Are you just some jerk who wants to make Ibuki feel even worse?!" This guy had already been getting on her nerves, but he was crossing a dangerous line right now with his persistence. She had no desire to re-live the pain she felt in there any time soon. She had had just about enough of it tonight—of critics, of music, of the record deal, of her bandmates—and was about to kick him to the curb until the man put his hands up in a harmless manner.
"Hey, hey, hold on. You ruined their chances; we haven't begun talking about yours."
That definitely caught the girl's attention and, for now, was the only thing that kept her butt in the chair. Was she wrong in assuming that this man was just another suit? For the first time tonight, genuine fear flooded her heart. For someone as idiosyncratic as Ibuki Mioda, to be stupefied at this turn of events…
In all honesty, she had no idea what to expect from the man now.
"I'm not daft, despite whatever impression you may have of me," the man let out a small laugh, utterly disregarding the current atmosphere, "and I know exactly what you were thinking. You wanted to tell the world who you were, so you took the only opportunity you had on stage to do just that." He glanced at the girl, and noticed her body language confirmed his theory. He nodded solemnly before his expression was suddenly replaced with a warm smile.
"Then it looks like you just made a fantastic decision!"
Huh?
"I can't say I'm a fan of your music either, but you definitely got the flair and talent we look for."
Huh? Huh?
"Don't worry about trying to figure it out; I have an eye for this sort of thing, so just trust me, mkay?"
Huh? Huh? Huh?
Ibuki was floored at this turn of events (how many times was that in the past few hours?). She raised an uncertain finger and stuttered, "W-What are you talking about? I-Ibuki's completely in the dark here!"
"I can't speak for the correctness of your actions, but there is something I can give you," the man replied as he reached back inside his jacket and pulled out the same white envelope from earlier, sliding it across the table towards her. While her apprehensive gaze alternated between the man and the envelope, she raised a tentative hand onto the table and grabbed the latter. On the immediate side, there was nothing that identified the letter inside; it was a blank side with absolutely nothing. Logic would dictate that she had to turn it around to acquire any sort of information.
As she turned the envelope to the other side, she realized that that had been the first time all night the man hadn't interrupted her.
On the flipside of the envelope, she found herself face-to-face with a black-and-white stamp that sealed the letter inside. At first glance, it may have looked like a regular seal to contain the document, yet the emblem was anything but regular. It depicted a shield emblazoned with a crossing fountain pen and thunderbolt, surrounded by wings on both sides, and adorned with a regal crown resting atop it all. Anyone who lived in Japan should recognized that symbol, and Ibuki Mioda was no exception to it; it only ranked second to the Hinomaru when it came to being a national symbol.
It was the crest of Hope's Peak Academy.
Her fingers rubbed the glossy stamp, as if she could have verified its authenticity with such a simple test. She examined the tips of her fingers and found them to be entirely clean of any foreign substances.
Nope, this letter was the real thing.
"N-No way! This is from Hope's Peak Academy, right?!" She asked the man excitedly. It was an asinine question, but when one is presented with such a rare object, instincts naturally take over.
The man's features softened, and he gave the girl a warm smile. "That's correct, and it's for you," he gestured a hand towards her.
"Whu…..what? WHAAAAAAAAAAAT?!" Ibuki shrieked.
"H-Hey, quiet down!" The man shushed her almost too forcibly, almost as if he was hiding a secret. His voice came out as sharp whisper. "Don't make so much noise! Technically, I'm not supposed to be here, so keep it on the down-low, okay?"
"Gotcha! You can count on Ibuki!" The girl lowered her volume by about one tenth of a fraction, much to the man's dismay. A sudden realization swept over Ibuki's thoughts. "But…um, how come you're not allowed to be here?"
"Technically, Hope's Peak Academy doesn't fall under 'members of the press', so no staff members are allowed here; I think Tomatsu's afraid we might steal some of their talent , too, so they take extra precautions. I wouldn't normally come to this sort of thing, but Jin asked me to check it out…and the year before this…and the year before that…how long have I...?" He appeared to be trying to remember something until Ibuki interrupted his mental flow.
"Jin?"
"He's the headmaster of Hope's Peak Academy. You'll see him at your opening ceremony," The man quickly explained. "Now, there's still a lot to discuss about your admission process. You are accepting, right?"
Ibuki didn't have to stop and think about this decision. She didn't necessarily have much of a choice, considering the events of the past twenty-four hours. Regardless of that, you'd have to be stupid to turn down an invitation for Hope's Peak Academy. She'd be set for life after graduation, and more importantly, she would meet other Ultimates; maybe there would be an Ultimate Drummer, or an Ultimate Bass Player? Her heart nearly burst out of her chest from imagining the possibilities.
She would be able to start anew. The full implications of the invitiation began to dawn on Ibuki Mioda; this was a very real and feasible opportunity to revamp her life, and perhaps this time around, she'd make friends; real friends that could fill the vacant hole in her heart.
"Uh, DUH! Ibuki says yes! Yes, yes, yes to everything!" Ibuki proclaimed, accentuating each 'yes' with a fist slamming down on the table, utterly disregarding his earlier warning about her volume. "Just tell Ibuki where to sign!"
"You don't have to sign anything. Just show up at Hope's Peak on the first day of classes and we'll take care of registering you into the system," the man said while rubbing at his ear to make sure it still functioned properly. "I think 'Ultimate Musician' would be a fitting title for you, wouldn't you think so, Ms. Mioda?"
The man from Hope's Peak outstretched his hand towards her to cement their agreement. He was looking for a handshake, the universal action to symbolize agreement, and Ibuki kindly reciprocated, her pale, garbed hand contrasting the man's fairer skin tone.
"H-Hey, wait a minute! You never gave Ibuki your name!" The newly dubbed Ultimate Musician pouted like a small child, feeling duped.
"Oh, I didn't? Let me fix that right now then," the man retracted his hand and reached into another one of his pockets, fishing out a small, white, rectangular card. He handed it over to the girl, who soon recognized it to be a business card.
"The name's Koichi Kizakura. I'm a talent scout for Hope's Peak Academy. Now, there's a few more things I need to tell you about being admitted into Hope's Peak…"
The next hour passed by quickly as Kizakura explained the facilities, rules of conduct, and other supplemental information required for all new students. Ibuki interjected every now and then with her own questions, although they were usually just little comments that flowed into her mind. Truthfully, most of his words flowed in one ear and out the other; Ibuki was too wrapped up in her imagination to be bothered with all the boring technical stuff for Hope's Peak.
Ibuki Mioda, Goddess of Music, Ultimate Musician… I like it!
And so, as the night grew older, the young girl gradually learned to smile again, and in time, it outgrew the moon's own.
A/N: Well, that took unusually long to write. My apologies for wasting too much time playing videogames and being productive (but not at the same time of course). One more chapter should just about wrap this story up, and then it's back to the drawing board. As always, thanks for reading, and please leave a review!
