It had taken Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the perfect prefect of the 78th class of Hope's Peak Academy, the boy who craved education and loved classes, all the strength in the world to rise out of his bed this typically ordinary summer morning. Had it not been for his sense of duty and obligation, and his determination to succeed regardless of the circumstances, he might have given in to the bitterness and hurt welling up within him and fallen back asleep.

It was not a thought he usually, if ever, entertained.

Alas, he had corridors to patrol and rules to enforce, even if he knew no one cared for his authority, anyway. Not even the teachers. It was rare for even them to turn up to classes now, and when they did they had the habit of calling an early recess. They didn't want to be there. The others didn't want to be there. Ishimaru, of course, did. Did that make him unusual, he wondered, as he finished tying his bootlaces? Was there much point in trying to be perfect, he thought, when it was increasingly impossible?

No. No. He had to try. He had to succeed, damn it! The effortless talents of others wouldn't be the end of him, and that was a promise.

He eyed himself in the mirror of his dorm room as he began to make his way out the door, and he stopped to observe his reflection for a moment. He looked less bright than usual. Less cheerful. His features seemed more sullen and his brows were framed lower on his face. It wasn't anger that was carved into his pale skin, but rather an increasing amount of hopelessness in his classmates, in this school, and in himself.

He shook his head. He had bigger things to worry about. With that, he was out the door, back straighter than the four spare rulers he kept in one of his drawers (one could never be underprepared to learn, after all), and a typical, uneventful day began.

...Or so he thought, until he heard the sound of the revving motorbike engine on the other side of the building.

What in the-

"FUCK YEAH!"

The unmistakable voice of a certain biker bounced down the well-polished hallways and reached Ishimaru's alert ears, and a spark of anger immediately set itself alight. If anyone was the anti-rule mastermind among the class, it was Mondo, without a doubt. His screaming of expletives wasn't what surprised the Ultimate Moral Compass. Rather, it was the sound of the bike engine that confused him. How did it sound like it was inside the school? He began to speed-walk to his destination, wondering what could possibly be awaiting him.

It wasn't long before he got his answer.

Turning the corner into the main foyer of the building a moment later, he was almost run over as Mondo Owada, coat fluttering behind him, went speeding past on his bike, racing it down the hallway. He laughed manically, letting out an ecstatic cheer as he passed. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. He was riding a bike… in the hallways?! Even for him, this was a new (and unbelievably dangerous) extreme.

Just as that veritable mess of information made an attempt to process itself in the hall monitor's mind, his eyes came to another sight – one which managed to somehow surprise him even more than the bike had.

Almost all of the class were gathered in the foyer, seemingly trying to launch a revolution with the amount of insanity they were stirring up. Civility had apparently fallen apart. There was Leon, arm flung over Sayaka's shoulder, laughing wildly, only for her to turn around and slap him across the cheek at some unheard comment he must have made. Across from him sat Asahina in a corner, surrounded by a litter of empty doughnut boxes, apparently having not cared to dispose of them in the trash can less than three feet away from her. Over there was Junko, currently… throwing knives at her sister, apparently. Celeste had just thrown a fresh pot of tea over poor Hifumi's face, and – w-why was Touko's tongue now the length of her entire body?!

The only word to describe the scene before Ishimaru's eyes was anarchy. Utter and complete anarchy. Brash. Uncaring. Loud. Oh, all of them so unbelievably loud.

"Oh come on, don't lie to me pretty boy, I know you've seen him somewhere!" Touko cooed, her voice and attitude like that of an entirely different person, currently waving a pair of scissors in the face of a frightened Makoto.

"I-I haven't! I swear!" The Ultimate Lucky Student replied with a worried grin, to the apparent mixture of amusement and concern of Kirigiri, who stood aside him.

Touko bounced away from him, currently darting around the room, questioning everyone, wild eyes searching for someone. Byakuya, perhaps? Either way, Ishimaru noted, he wasn't here. Not that the prefect was really noting anything, of course. He was too busy trying to stave off three different seizures simultaneously.

"You look stressed," came a gruff voice to Kiyotaka's right, and he turned to see a perplexed Sakura watching the scene with him, arms folded over her chest.

"I… I'm perfectly fine, thank you," he replied stiffly, reminding himself where socialising got him in last month's Sports Day. Fourth place. Failure.

"Need a hand?" She asked, quickly gesturing with her head to the hallway behind them, where a certain idiot had just raced down out of sight. "He's out of control."

It took Kiyotaka a moment to fully grasp what she was implying but, surprised at her willingness to help, he swiftly accepted. "Please," he said. He added nothing more. His exasperated tone spoke more than a thousand words ever could.

The sound of the bike returned, rapidly increasing in volume, accompanied by Mondo's manic cheers. Ishimaru spun round, watching as he came into sight again, bolting down the hallway at maximum speed.

"I'M THE KING OF THE FUCKIN' WORLD! I'M-"

Sakura stepped out in front of the bike, and the sound of screeching brakes broke into the stifling air. What the hell was she doing?!

As if the metal racing machine was nothing more than a leaf, the world's strongest woman grabbed the still-moving bike, Mondo still attached to it, and, with a colossal CRASH, quite literally tossed it behind her. Mondo flew off the seat, ending up careering into a wall, his precious deathtrap sliding across the floor on its side, front wheel still slightly turning.

T'was but a flesh wound, apparently, considering that the biker was back on his feet ten seconds later, hand pushed firmly against the bulging bump on his head from where he'd cracked against the wall. He looked… dizzy, to say the least. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sakura held out a commanding hand.

"Don't," she said with a grunt. "You need to calm yourself."

Ishimaru wasn't sure whether to thank her or scold her. She had stopped Mondo's reign of diesel-powered terror, but throwing him across the room like he and his bike were ragdolls, not taking the danger of such an act into account? Was this a school or a wrestling ring? She had meant well and she was, without doubt, the most clear-headed person in the room right now apart from Ishimaru, but… the violence had irked him. It was in violation of a school rule, after all.

As a matter of fact, they were all violating rules in their own ways right now. Feel relief or anger? Calmly plead for calm, or issue everyone with a detention? Laugh or cry? was barely responding.

Just as he had been about to hesitantly thank Sakura for her (unorthodox) dealing with Mondo, and had been about to request her help to get the others under control, a sharp pain crashed against his head.

"Oh crap!" Shouted a voice that wasn't his own.

He let out a gasp of pain, holding his hand up, watching as a white ball dropped to the floor in front of him, lined with red stitches. The ball that had just smacked him in the face. A baseball.

"Shit, dude, that was an accident! Sorry!"

Slowly, he looked from the ball to the foyer where, of course, Leon Kuwata stood, baseball bat in hand, scratching the back of his head with a nervous grin. "I was trying to show off my skills to Sayaka here, but, uh… I wasn't looking where I was batting! You know how it is."

Red eyes locked onto him. One of them twitched with unconcealable anger. It was no surprise. There was only so much a human being could take in one sitting before the friendly mask would slip. Ishimaru was no exception right now.

"No hard feelings though, right?"

Fists clenched. Teeth grinded behind a firmly closed pair of lips. Bush-like brows furrowed in fury.

Kiyotaka allowed himself one last survey of the scene before him. Most of the others hadn't even noticed what had happened, still too busy treating the place like it was a zoo. Junko was pulling on Mukuro's hair. A rule broken. Touko was spinning a pair of scissors around on her index finger, laughing manically. Another rule broken. Asahina's litter still covered a little corner of the floor. Another rule broken. Mondo swore under his breath. Another rule broken.

Turning on his heels, he marched off without a word, leaving those whom had witnessed the scene to exchange confused and concerned glances between each other.

Enough was enough, he thought, feeling like he might be sick with the amount of rage pulsing through his veins, that he might fall unconscious with the deep well of sadness pouring frustration into every corner of his body. He had given them chance after chance, and every one of them had been thrown back in his face (sometimes literally).

What, he wondered, would the principal have to say about this?

Today had promised to be nothing more than ordinary. Today was to be a perfectly typical summer's day. However, as he headed to the office of Headmaster Jin Kirigiri, neither Kiyotaka nor the world knew that today would go down in history.

For today, this perfectly normal day, was about to see the birth of despair.