"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! Please don't kill me! I beg you! You can have all my OOPArts!" Yasuhiro pleaded, totally without shame as he groveled, his eyes tightly closed in the vain hope that it would cause the intimidating young woman with length of metal pipe from breaking multiple bones in his body—much like she did to the multitude of men in pinstripe suits that laid along the grass, groaning feebly. "Well, actually you can't, but still don't beat me, please!" he pleaded.

"Yasuhiro."

The sound of his last name immediately cut off all protest and groveling, leaving the fortune teller tremble in quiet fear. His heart nearly froze in his chest when he felt the rounded edge of the pipe being placed on the underside of his jaw and gently force his head up. Was she going to shatter his jaw? How would he eat? Maybe she just needed a better opening to crush his windpipe or snap his neck? Oh god! He was too young to die!

"Yasuhiro." This time he opened his eyes and stared into blue eyes of his classmate, the Ultimate Soldier; to the fortune teller, they seemed to be fathomless voids lacking any kind of human emotion or pity—only cold, remorseless wrath and destruction that she was about to bring down upon his frail body. "This is unacceptable, you realize that, correct?" Mukuro asked, her head tilted ever so slightly as she regarded her classmate.

"Y-yeah!" Hagakure refrained from frantically nodding head, least the movement set off some kind of secret government mental conditioning trigger that might cause the teen in front of him to destroy the lower half of his face.

"Classmates do not attempt to sell another classmate's organs on the black market to pay off their debts," Mukuro continued, her lecture having the same even tone as someone explaining a math theorem. "I believe you owe Makoto an apology, don't' you?" she asked, putting just a the barest whisper of extra force into forcing his gaze meet hers with the length of pipe.

"O-of course!" Taking the opportunity afforded to him, Yasuhiro scrambled over to Makoto, who had been standing safely behind Mukuro during the whole affair, and grasped his pant leg with a vice-like grip as he blubbered profuse apologies of the utmost respect to his peer.

"I-it's fine, Yasuhiro! Really!" Makoto waved off the apology, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "Mukuro saved us, and no one got hurt!" One of the thugs chose to groan just then, and Makoto stared at him owlishly, and then grinned with slight embarrassment. "W-well... none of us got hurt, at least..." he corrected. He then turned to walk over to Mukuro, but was forced to stop. Looking down, he saw that his classmate with still clinging to his pant like a leech. "Um... You can let go now, Yasuhiro... please?" he offered, tugging gently on his foot, but having little success against the strength of the much larger and older boy. Sighing and resigning himself to the situation as another instance of his nebulous luck, Makoto turned to the ultimate soldier and bowed a full ninety degrees at his waist to the teenage girl. "Thank you, Mukuro!" he chirped, smiling brightly at her. "You saved both me and Hiro!"

Mukuro blinked, and it seemed as if Makoto's smile was brighter than the sun that was shining brightly in the afternoon's sky that day. Come to think of it, it was unusually warm for this time of year, after all, and that must be why her face suddenly felt slightly warm—along with the rapid dispatch of the thugs that laid spread upon the grass about her. "Of course..." she answered, cursing herself for the soft utterance that passed her lips. Why was she acting like this! Her hands wringed the length of pipe tightly, an action that would have doubtlessly gotten her a stern reprimand from her superior if she were still in Fenrir. Perhaps we was out of shape? Dispatching a dozen armed thugs would never have been enough to get her pulse elevated to this level in the past. The Ultimate Soldier resolved in her mind to train extra in the gymnasium so that she could regain and maintain her peak level of fitness; this incident had taught her a harsh lesson that it was foolish of her to just assume that the walls of Hope's Peak Academy offered ultimate protection for her and her classmates.


That incident had occurred two-and-a-half weeks ago, and Mukuro had put it out of her mind since then, but it was what lead to the current situation she now found herself in: clashing with a bespectacled silver-haired woman who wielded a katana with skill that could only be considered Ultimate level.


Author's Note: Hello everyone! I apologize about the long wait, however, I just started substitute teaching and I wanted to plan out the story properly. The previous chapters I consider the prologue, and now we get into the meat and potatoes! Expect updates on a weekly, or occasionally, bi-weekly basis now that life has settled back into a routine. Also, please, if anyone would like to beta, please send me a PM. I would greatly appreciate it.