The first thing that indicated to Kiyotaka Ishimaru that today would be a good day was the blaring sun, hanging in a rolling blue sky. The trees of the schoolyard blew ever so gently in a golden breeze that was practically non-existent. Cheerful birds (all of which Kiyotaka could identify, thanks to his studies) chirped happily and sang sweetly. Laughter filled the cool summer air. The sounds and sights and colours of nature surrounded the 78th class with resplendence, and, for the first time in several weeks, the prefect was happy.

Of course, as delightful as nature was, it wasn't the reason for his happiness. No, today was Hope's Peak Academy's annual Sports Day, an event he had been looking forward to for quite some time now. The Reserve Course students, however, were still shut away in that old building of theirs. Their Sports Day activies were being held in their indoor gym, according to what he had overheard two teachers saying during his earlier hallway patrols. A way of keeping them "seperate from the others", they had said. He pitied the Reserve Coursers more than words could say, but he reminded himself to keep his chin up.

Even if they weren't happy, he would make sure that, for today at least, he would be.

The entire class was working together as a team. Doing as they were told. Participating in the events offered to them. Genuinely and truly enjoying the competition being offered. It was rare. Usually they scoffed at rules, rolled their eyes at regulations, and sneered at the concept of studying. Yet here they were, building up a strong sense of community and belonging. For once, the hall monitor actually felt like it was a community he could belong to.

So at-ease was the Ultimate Moral Compass that, along with the others, he found himself wearing a casual t-shirt and gym shorts. It was a far-cry from his usual attire, but it was the school's gym uniform, after all. With the exceptions of Celeste and Mukuro (although that hardly surprised him) everyone was wearing roughly the same clothes. Uniformity! He loved it.

"I'm... ah... I'm exhausted!" Cried Hagakure, doubled-over aside the Ultimate Moral Compass. His mess of hair stayed perfectly in place despite the fact he was soaked in sweat, a fact which fascinated Kiyotaka. "That was... gah... crazy..."

"That was only the egg-and-spoon race, you know," said Makoto Naegi to his right, looking at the Ultimate Clairvoyant like he was insane. "It's not supposed to be exhausting."

"Hey!" He replied, looking somewhat offended. "Not all of us can be like Taka, here. He came in first place!"

They were recognising his achievements? Kiyotaka couldn't hide the smile on his face. He felt happy. Happy felt good. Great, in fact. He puffed up his chest in pride, placing his hands on his hips. He grinned. "It's all about dedication!" He chimed. "Concentrate. Become one with the egg and the spoon, and you're sure to win!"

Hagakure seemed taken aback at that. "B-Become one with them, huh? Jeez, dude, you sound more psychic than me."

"And that's saying something!" The voice of Sayaka Maizono chimed from behind them, followed by an energetic giggle.

The prefect felt an unexpected slap on his back, and tensed up like some sort of frightened cat, his head spinning left to see a grinning Mondo. "Well done on coming first, man," he said, apparently being entirely honest. "You're not too bad... for a nutjob." He chuckled at his own remark, to which Kiyotaka blinked. He wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult. He wasn't sure how to react.

"Woah, chill," Mondo continued, eyes wide, clearly surprised at the reaction he had recieved. He seemed to have noticed the confusion on the hall monitor's face. "I'm kidding. You did hella good. It's just good to see you take that stick outta your ass and relax a little for once!"

Relax? Was that what he was doing? His adrenaline was pumping, his heart was racing, and he was covered in sweat from beating the entire class in the last race. Either way, it felt good to be a part of the team for once. They were all on the same wavelength. At their heart, they were good people. Misguided, sure, but good people, all the same.

"T-Thank you!" He replied, allowing himself to grin again. "It's just great to have everyone working together and getting some exercise... it's the best thing for building a strong school spirit!"

"Fuck yeah!" The biker roared, bearing those biceps of his, exposed by the fact he was only wearing a tanktop. "I'll drink to that!" With that said, he downed almost all of the bottle of water in his hand. Kiyotaka couldn't help but laugh.

"Uh, I think we're starting off the next set of races now," said Naegi suddenly.

Kiyotaka turned his attention to the track in front of him and, sure enough, a few of the others were lining up to run. He considered jumping in to participate in the first race, but knew his stamina wasn't up to scratch yet. No matter his determination, he knew it would be foolish to run in without the necessary energy. He'd join in for the second one, he told himself, but he was more than happy to watch the others.

A few of the others moved over to join in, switching places and scattering themselves all over the place. Mondo was a stern exception to that rule, remaining next to the prefect, occasionally making attempts at conversation which, for once, Kiyotaka indulged in. Conversation was fun. Who knew? Maybe Mondo wasn't so bad after all!

Byakuya had come up to stand on his right at some point, but stayed relatively silent. Unsurprising. It was Byakuya, after all.

"I'll give you guys a fifteen second head-start," said Sakura as she lined up. "Makes it fairer."

"A-Are you sure that's fair on you?" Naegi replied, clearly shocked.

"Hey dude, shhhh! If it means I can win, I'm not complaining!" Leon grinned, stretching out his arms over his shoulders. Hifumi stood aside the redhead, and next to him was Sayaka. Kiyotaka highly doubted Hifumi stood a chance, but he couldn't fault him for trying, at least!

It wasn't long until the race began, and Kiyotaka cheered the five of them on with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, sure, but he was enjoying himself. As expected, Hifumi was lagging behind (although, to his surprise, was managing to keep up), with Sayaka forming a decent lead. For a moment, he had totally forgotten about a certain Ultimate Martial Artist, but was quickly reminded of her when a flurry of dust appeared in the distance on the track.

The finishing line was rapidly approaching and Asahina, having appeared from seemingly nowhere with a camera, ran into sight in front of the racers. "I need to catch this!" She cried out, but Ishimaru was too busy cheering on the others to take much notice of her.

SNAP!

The picture was taken.

Seconds later, Sakura Oogami, wrapped in a haze of dirt, stormed past the others at speeds which must have broken the sound barrier, leaving her competitors literally eating her dust. There was no contest here. She stormed past the finishing line, and Kiyotaka burst into applause. Now that was skill! Even Junko, who had been too busy talking with Chihiro on the sidelines, turned her head to give a (slightly uncaring) glance over at the scene.

The class surrounded her, beyond impressed at what they had just witnessed, with her rivals not even bothering to finish the race. Hell, even Leon abandoned a potential second-place victory just to congratulate her. Asahina was, of course, the first one up to her, immediately hugging her with a cheer the second she came within her vicinity.

"Sakura!" She yelled, absolutely overjoyed, acting as if she were some sort of pride-filled sister. "That was amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

Now this? This was the school spirit Ishimaru so heavily desired to cultivate. Togetherness. A celebration of skill and hard work. This was what Hope's Peak Academy was all about. It wasn't long before he was lining up to participate in the second race, determined to prove to himself that he hadn't wasted those countless hours exercising in preparation for this day. That his studying, both mentally and physically, truly was paying off. That he deserved to be here. That he wasn't an effortless genius!

Devasted.

That was the only word to sum up Kiyotaka's current mood, as he stared down at the dusty ground, eyes wide, filled with tears. How had this happened? What had he done to deserve a result as absolutely despairingly awful as this?

In his hand he gripped onto the flag that bore his result in the race, tightened fists grabbing on with such intensity that his knuckles had turned into a stark, arctic white. His teeth were clenched. Visible fury spread far and wide across the corners of his sweat-covered face.

Fourth place.

He had come in fourth. Touko had come first, with Naegi (whom had decided to run again) coming in second, with Chihiro serving as a close third. Potentially the three weakest students in the class, and all of them had beaten him.

He was proud of them, of course. They had overcome their own lack of strength to the extent that they had beaten the Ultimate Moral Compass himself. On the one hand, it was incredible. It was worthy of the celebration that had been showered on them the moment they crossed the finishing line. It was the type of success he wanted them all to aspire to. On the other hand, however, it was downright shameful. It was awful. Inexcuseably awful!

How had he lost? Was he not strong enough, Kiyotaka wondered? Fourth place, he had been told by rather confused Naegi, was still pretty good, and in many respects he wasn't wrong. It was 'pretty good', he had said. But Kiyotaka Ishimaru was not set on being just 'pretty good'. No. He was determined to be the best. To be perfect!

"Alright, everyone," said the same portly little teacher that had excused them all from class halfway through a lesson a handful of weeks ago, "smile!" He stood behind a camera, just as everyone took their poses. Asahina sitting firmly on Sakura's shoulders. Mondo tussling the hair of a certain delighted Ultimate Programmer. Everyone laughing. Smiling.

Except for Kiyotaka.

The picture was taken, and he remained in that same pose. Holding onto his flag, staring at the ground in defeat, stomach tied in a twisted knot of anger and confusion. How had this happened?

Had he not tried hard enough? No, he told himself, he had been committed to winning.

Had he not been in the proper mindset? No, he told himself, he had spent hours researching breathing techniques for a sharp, healthy mind.

Had he not exercised hard enough? No, he told himself, he had worked out to the point of near-collapse in the last month to prepare for this.

Had he not been strict enough? No, he- wait. Wait. That was it. It dawned on him. Today he had allowed himself to engage in idle chatter. He allowed himself to have what the others called 'fun'. He had been relaxed and open, conversational and exciteable, easygoing and upbeat. That mindset, he told himself, was what had led to his downfall.

A single tear fell onto the ground in front of him. Damn it, why did he always have to cry so easily? He had been the cause of his own ruin today. No one else. It was a fact that burned through him. If he was strict, he was looked upon as a 'stiff' and a 'nutjob'. If he was relaxed, he was destined to lose what should be easy challenges. Why did it all have to be so impossible?

It wasn't fair.

He wanted to be perfect. He needed to be perfect. He demanded to be perfect!

As the others began to scatter and move away from the spot where he remained, sitting in relative solitude, still grasping onto his flag, he raised his head up to look upon the thing he was holding. There it was. The sign of his defeat, flying proudly above him on a burnt-orange background.

4.

Another tear fell from his eyes.

Four.

The number of failure.