This is a story that began its life on another website, and as of writing this, the first chapter has already been finished. Hence, a section of the prologue will be uploaded every three days until the story has caught up. This version also has soundtrack links that open up Youtube videos with suitable music from the Dangan series, to enhance the experience. It is hosted here: danganronpa-fanfiction. fandom/ wiki/Dangan_Ronpa:_Unsere_Sommerende/Prologue_(1) Sorry for the heavily broken link but the site seems intent on messing up any links I try to post here. Alternatively just searching up "Dangan Ronpa: Unsere Sommerende" on Google could bring it up.

You can still definitely read it on this website, but the author reccomends the version with music.

Public transport gives you a lot of time to ponder things. Whether you're sitting down, or on your feet and latched to a pole, being surrounded by bustling citygoers gives you a taste of just a slice of the pie that makes up the rest of humanity. Even in a single carriage of people, the diversity and unique features of each individual is captivating, isn't it?

The London Underground, certainly, is an example of the phenomenon, and this happened to be the example I found myself in from day to day. The passengers usually didn't talk much amongst themselves, as if the urban life had made them desensitised to eachother's existence. Well, I suppose that's a bit nihilistic. On the bright side, the trains had comfy seating, a sleek modern design, and didn't make much noise when travelling from station to station.

I hope I'm making sense.

I tend to talk strangely sometimes, people tell me.

Well, I suppose you'd like to know more about me, so…

Hi!

My name is Jane Attebury, and I am an aspiring artist who's just trying to make it in this world, just like everyone else!... That's the simple version, really. Do you want to hear more?... Okay...

My art itself usually ignores the usual conventions of art, which tends to confuse people sometimes. While I do paint most of the time, it's probably not what you'd expect. My most recent series has been paintings of splashes and blobs of basic colours, an expression of the carnal, instinctual feelings that are nested within all of us. Although, most people just see splashes and blobs of basic colours.

Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm talentless.

…

Some people disagree with that, and say that I'm a prodigy. I don't know why. I don't know who, for that matter, but whatever the case, these people (I think they're a bunch of old men or something?) sent me a letter saying that I was the "Ultimate Conceptual Artist" (Very flattering.). That's why I was sitting on that train, actually. This letter was an invitation to Wish's Apex Academy, the most prestigious high school in the entirety of Britain.

... Also, this is a bit embarrassing but, I forgot my art supplies. Wish's Apex houses students on campus, and I tried to pack everything I'd need, but I kind of forgot the most essential thing I needed... I was going to draw a self portrait, though of course, in a highly abstracted style. It would still be easy enough to make out my clothes, at the time consisting of a cyan button-up collared shirt with a dark green coat over it, and a similarly dark green beret, along with wide legged trousers, again, dark green. It would probably be hard to tell they were even meant to be clothes, but they'd at least be... Relatively... Easy to make out. My face would probably non-existant, so my light brown eyes wouldn't be visible. I still hadn't made up my mind over whether or not I'd paint my sky blue hair, or the slight outward curve at the bottom of the hair, just before they would have reached my shoulder.

... Did I ramble on a bit there?... I guess that shows how much I try to focus on my, um, 'talent'. Getting into Wish's Apex is vastly different from other schools. There isn't any particular test one has to take and pass, rather, they specifically search for and invite students who excel in a specific talent, so much so that they could be considered the best in their age bracket, and formally invite them to the academy.

Some of the talents of the students this year greatly intrigue me. Reading up online, there's an accomplished seamstress, a well-known rock star, and there's even a "lazy student", which doesn't exactly sound like a talent to me. There are 15 students in each year's class, so these are only a small selection of the people who'll have to be my new friends in the coming years. I hope they'll like me…

The train eventually arrived at the destination. Exiting the train and ascending the stairs felt almost ethereal, in some way, like a dream. Emerging out of the subway, the academy was immediately apparent, looming over me and the countless passerbys. The design of the building was a bit alienating, really. It's design was highly minimalist, basically a six story block of smooth white concrete, with windows along on each floor, and metal fencing and a gate surrounding the building. I read that the school was built in the 50s, which kind of confuses me since minimalism was more popular in the 60s, so a famous building looking like this doesn't fit in with art history, it's really confusing, what even?...

Oh, I know. They must have renovated.

Being in the shadow of the massive cube that would be the site of my new school life felt like, well, a lot of things. It was daunting, exciting, scary, and wonderful. It made me wonder if I'd survive in a place like this. After taking a deep breathe, I wore a more confident face, and stepped through the gate, and eventually through the door as well.

And that's about all I remember.