CHAPTER ONE – WELCOME TO HOPE'S PEAK

Ryoma looked up at the buildings that towered above him. Brick walls, glass panes and cold steel—an imposing edifice, to be sure. Add some bars on the windows and it won't seem that different from where I just came from. Still, it was more inviting than prison; instead of inmates walking in orderly fashion with chains connecting them together by their feet, there were huge gaggles of students walking in and out, happily chatting with one another and seemingly excited for what the first day of school would bring. All of them looked so carefree and joyous, passing him by without so much as a sideways glance towards his direction. Ryoma wondered for a moment whether he should feel relieved or disappointed with that. He chewed his candy cigarette slowly and glanced back up at the school.

When he had been informed that he was being invited to study at Hope's Peak Academy, Ryoma had scoffed at the idea. Perhaps no one had bothered to inform the school's officials that the "Ultimate Tennis Pro" they had been scouting for was already locked up for life. Perhaps the letter he received was merely a cruel joke meant to taunt him with the prospect of being released. Still, things took a more interesting turn when he was approached by the prison warden days later and told almost grudgingly that Hope's Peak had made the necessary procedures and secured the proper documents for his momentary release so that he could study there. Ryoma's wonder had risen a bit at that. If the school had the power to convince the higher-ups in the judicial system to let him go, then maybe this was no joke after all. Still, he had packed what little belongings he had left with silent skepticism. If Hope's Peak Academy was willing to waste its time with the likes of him, then that was no longer his problem.

As he walked past the school's wrought iron gates, Ryoma observed his fellow students in silence. Some of them were wearing the traditional brown-colored uniforms that Hope's Peak Academy had, but most were sporting attires that matched their Ultimate talents and made them stand out quite a bit. As for Ryoma himself, the striped black-and-blue jumpsuit and black shoes he wore made him look more like a prisoner than anything else, and though the black leather jacket he wore over it served to hide that fact from immediate notice, the metal cuff on his left leg often drew more attention from people as its short chains rattled lightly with every other step he made. The only visible sign that told others of his identity as the Ultimate Tennis Pro was the blue crest on the pointy-eared black beanie he wore, showing a pair of crossed tennis racket shapes.

Ryoma soon saw upon entering the school that Hope's Peak Academy was a lot more complex than it looked, with the towers and facilities that jutted out all over it. Hundreds of voices seemed to buzz in the hallways, and just as many footsteps echoed as students walked on polished floors on their way to wherever it was that they would be going. There were also courtyards at various places, decorated by tall trees and trimmed shrubs, with stone benches sitting next to flagstone paths. These led off to various areas in the academy, from the open field to the faculty buildings to the various facilities in the Reserve Course's quarter. At times, he espied some Reserve Course students whispering excitedly and looking rather envious as they observed the Ultimates passing by, their black uniforms setting them apart from the Main Course's brown garb. He had heard about how these students studied at the school with the hopes of being accepted as an Ultimate one day. And any one of them is more worthy of a spot in the Main Course than I am, that's for sure.

After a few minutes of walking, Ryoma realized that no one had told him where to go. Given that it was his first day at the academy, there was no one he could look to for directions, nor had he met any of his classmates just yet. Luckily, an announcement played out on the school's PA system then and there, instructing the new Ultimates to gather in the gymnasium for the morning.

The gymnasium was already housing quite a number of Ultimates when Ryoma entered. Many had gathered on the gym's hardwood courts, though some opted to stay up on the nearby bleachers and away from the throng of students below them, choosing to let the majority pass by. Some students in white uniforms with red armbands—members of some school committee or council, Ryoma deduced—walked around instructing students to check out the class lists that have been tacked onto bulletin boards that have been set up on the courts in case they needed to know which class they belonged to.

As he approached the bulletin boards to follow their lead, however, Ryoma soon realized what a laughably futile task it was to take a look at the class lists. Standing at just above four feet tall, he was shorter than any of the students around him, so the bulletin boards were out of the question. This was not the first time that he was reminded of how short he was, but at least it was different from prison where many of his fellow inmates openly mocked him for it. He looked up at the class lists, wondering for a moment how he would be able to find his name and class without having to bother anyone for help.

"Do you need assistance?" a polite female voice rang out.

Ryoma raised his eyebrows in surprise; even in the jumble of voices in the gymnasium, he could tell that the question was directed towards him, given that it came from someone standing right next to him. He craned his head and looked up at the speaker—a tall, graceful-looking and beautiful young woman. She had short, pale sandy blonde hair that barely reached her shoulders, and her lengthy bangs covered part of her beautiful face, giving her a mysterious aura. To further complement her elegant air, she was wearing a maid uniform—a white dress covered by a frilled black apron dress with a spider web motif, with matching black gloves, tights and grey shoes. A frilled lace headdress adorned her hair, while a purple tie around her neck completed her refined look even as she carried in front of her a black tote bag, confirming her identity as another student.

Ryoma took his candy cigarette away from his mouth to speak. "Did I look like I needed help?" he asked quietly.

The young woman bowed her head dutifully. "Forgive me, I did not mean to be rude," she said with courteous sincerity. "I was observing you for a moment and saw that you seemed to have trouble looking at the class lists."

Shifting where he stood, Ryoma grunted. "Sorry about that," he said with a slightly gentler tone. "I might've come off a bit too serious there. . ."

"I understand," said the young woman, giving him a polite smile. At that, she suddenly straightened up and put down her bag. "It seems I've forgotten to introduce myself. I am Kirumi Tojo, the Ultimate Maid," she said, bowing respectfully again.

Ryoma nodded, knowing that her talent should be obvious from the maid uniform that she was wearing. Kirumi went on. "You are Ryoma Hoshi, correct?"

"So you recognized me," Ryoma muttered.

"There are very few people who wouldn't recognize a renowned athlete like you, I presume," said Kirumi.

Ryoma scoffed. "No one's approached me just yet to ask," he said. "But to answer your question . . . yeah, that's me." Or who I used to be, anyway.

Kirumi inclined her head. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ryoma. Please let me know if you require my service in anything."

Ryoma nodded back. "Same. But what do you mean by 'service?'"

Again, Kirumi straightened up and folded her hands in front of her. "As a maid, I am here to serve and fulfill the desires of others," she replied with a dignified air. "Though we may be schoolmates, it is my responsibility to tend to whatever needs that you and others have. That is the duty of a maid, after all."

"I see. . ." said Ryoma. "Well, I hope I don't get in the way of your duties. Or anyone else's in the school, for that matter."

"I will do my best not to hinder you in any way when I go to fulfill my responsibilities," said Kirumi. "Now, do you still require assistance in viewing the class lists?"

"Huh? Oh, right. . ." Ryoma glanced back at the lists on the bulletin boards. "Well, seeing as I'm not exactly the tallest person in town, it'd be stupid of me if I said I didn't need help at the moment."

Kirumi bowed her head. "Then it shall be my pleasure to assist you."

With that, Ryoma stood back as Kirumi stepped forward to peruse the class lists in silence. Other Ultimate students were doing the same around them, careful not to crowd around the bulletin boards too much. Ryoma half-expected a student to recognize who he was and talk to him as he stood there waiting, but Kirumi finished reading through the lists relatively quickly. She turned to him with a smile.

"It appears that we're not just schoolmates, but classmates as well," she said. "Class 80-A, as the list states."

"Huh. Looks like this first day's already got a surprise in store," Ryoma muttered. "Well, better than getting lost around here on your own, I suppose."

Kirumi's smile faded as her dutiful demeanor returned. "Perhaps we can both set about and start looking for our classroom, then?" she asked, picking up her bag.

"Yeah. There's not much else to do around here right now, anyway," said Ryoma.

Together, the two of them left the gymnasium and made their way back to the main building. The corridors were still crowded with students, though some were also looking for their classmates and classrooms instead of simply wandering around. Ryoma soon saw that apart from a colorful roster of Ultimates, the school also had its fair share of renowned athletes; he spotted the famed fiery-haired baseball ace Leon Kuwata leaning against the doorway of a classroom, chatting with a gaggle of excited girls; he also saw boxing world champion Juzo Sakakura walking down a corridor with his two companions in silence, his dark fur-lined jacket enhancing his chiseled physique even further; and in the distance a few meters later, he spotted the massive, muscle-bound frame and the long white mane of renowned martial artist Sakura Ogami, whom he had watched on television before as she competed in martial arts competitions abroad. To Ryoma's slight discomfiture, their presence and talents reminded him of his own reputation in tennis, and that he would be easily counted among such distinguished competitors by the other students once they recognized him, which should not be that difficult to do soon enough.

Given that he and Kirumi have been walking in complete silence for more than a few minutes now, Ryoma spoke up. "You're not very talkative, are you?" he asked as they finished climbing up their second set of stairs.

Kirumi inclined her head. "Forgive me. I was taking a look at the signs outside these rooms. We should be arriving at our classroom in a few moments."

"I see. I'm not much of a talkative person myself, but I also don't want you to feel like I'm ignoring you or anything," Ryoma stated. "If anything, you should be ignoring me."

"Why is that?" asked Kirumi.

Ryoma grunted. "If you really knew who I am, then I'm sure you don't need to ask why."

Silence followed his words, punctuated only by the chains on his ankle as they jingled with every other step, providing some emphasis to his reply. He sensed just how smart and intuitive Kirumi was, so there was no doubt that she would know something as infamous as his appearance on the news across the country about a year ago.

"I know what you are talking about," said Kirumi at last. "I apologize."

"No, it's fine," said Ryoma. "I just want you to know that . . . it's pretty dangerous to just be walking up to someone like me."

Though he knew that his words might sound intimidating, he did not put any air of menace or malice in them, nor did he state them to scare Kirumi off. To her credit, Kirumi also seemed to think the same way as she replied, "I understand. But please do not hesitate to approach me if you need my services. Likewise, I would do the same if I feel that I could help you in any way—with your express permission, of course."

Sticking with her responsibilities through and through. Ryoma regarded her for a moment, wondering just how the Ultimate Maid went about her duties if she was this serious, but he chose not to say anything else for now. Faced with someone so professional and proper, he did not want to seem any ruder than he had any right to be.

When the two of them finally reached the door marked "80-A," a boy and a girl were already standing in front of it, glancing from the door's tag to one of the school brochures in their hands. The raven-haired boy was clad in a double-breasted black uniform with grey pinstripes, along with a black hat that was drawn over his eyes, and dark blue shoes. The girl, on the other hand, was a blonde, and she wore a lighter combination that seemed to counter the boy's more subdued appearance—a sleeveless pink sweater over a long-sleeved white shirt and an orange tie, a dark purple skirt decorated with lines and musical notes, and a pair of matching knee-high socks and brown shoes. Definitely Ultimates,Ryoma thought as he and Kirumi drew nearer. He heard the boy mutter in a low voice.

"I-I guess this is it, huh?"

"80-A," the girl confirmed, folding the brochure. "Looks like we're the first ones here."

"Good morning," said Kirumi as she and Ryoma approached.

The two looked around at them, their reactions giving a hint of how different they seemed; while the boy stepped back a little, the girl gave them a ready smile. "Good morning!" she greeted back cordially. "Are you also looking for 80-A?"

"We were, but it appears you arrived here first," replied Kirumi. Bowing like she did earlier with Ryoma, she went on, "I am Kirumi Tojo, the Ultimate Maid."

Before anyone could say anything else, the other boy blurted out, "Ah, I've heard of you before!"

"Oh, really?" asked the other girl. "Where from?"

"Some of the people I've worked with have mentioned your name before a number of times," said the boy.

"I take it they also mentioned my services in some way," said Kirumi.

"Yes," said the boy. "They said that your work is so perfect, you can complete any request that is given to you."

The other girl looked around at him in astonishment. "W-What?! She's that amazing?!"

"Yes, her reputation is well-known among a lot of prominent people. Apparently, she's been hired before as a bodyguard for several foreign dignitaries and an assistant to some of the most famous personalities in the country today," the boy went on. "She truly is an Ultimate with incredible intellect and strength."

Kirumi, however, replied to such claims in a politely humble tone. "Please, you are exaggerating. I will not complete any request that is asked of me. Anything that I know is within my capabilities and moral obligations, I would fulfill. But anything beyond that, I would not attempt to take on. For instance, I once received a request to annihilate a rival nation."

If Ryoma did not find Kirumi's apparent talent already impressive before, these tidbits he was hearing about her reputation were starting to pique his opinion. "But it was an impossible task, so I refused," Kirumi continued. "So you see, I can only take upon tasks and requests that I feel I can accomplish."

"B-But being requested to do that is already impressive on its own, right?" said the other girl. "Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet someone as well-known and skilled as you. I'm Kaede Akamatsu. I'm the Ultimate Pianist!"

The other boy, meanwhile, bowed his head slightly. "I'm Shuichi Saihara," he said in a more timid tone. "I'm the Ultimate Detective, I s-suppose. . ."

"Hey! I told you before, you are the Ultimate Detective, okay?" said Kaede, frowning slightly at him. "So cut it out with that 'suppose' stuff! You were scouted to be here along with us, after all."

"Ah, you're right," said Shuichi with a nervous smile. "S-Sorry about that."

As he looked around, his eyes fell upon Ryoma, and a flicker of recognition immediately passed through them. "Wait! Y-You're Ryoma Hoshi, right?" he asked, surprised.

Expecting nothing less, Ryoma met his glance with indifference. "You sure recognize a lot of people, huh? Well, I guess that's a given, seeing as how you're the Ultimate Detective and all. . ."

Shuichi winced at his words, as if Ryoma had hurled an insult at him. "Do you know him as well, Shuichi?" Kaede asked him.

"Not in person," said Shuichi. "It's just that . . . I've read about him in the papers before."

Ryoma scoffed, more to himself than to anyone. "So you've read that old story too, huh?" he muttered.

With his deep voice doubling the edge of his words, he knew that the statement must have unsettled Shuichi further, for the Ultimate Detective suddenly looked anxious. "Y-Yes," said Shuichi. "It was kind of a pretty big deal back then in our a-agency. . ."

"Wait, why?" asked Kaede, looking slightly confused. "What was—?"

But at that moment, a cry and a rush of footsteps from around the next corner cut her off. The four of them turned just in time to see a boy rounding the corner, looking rather harried. They would have reacted rather normally at such an arrival were it not for the boy's bizarre appearance.

The first thing that Ryoma noticed was how odd his clothing was—if it could be even called that. Instead of fabric, he was wearing metal plating on nearly every part of his body, taking the shape of what passed for clothes, with odd glowing buttons here and there. His collar also looked metallic, with flashing green letters blinking on the glossy surface. Beneath all this, Ryoma saw how he had unusually pale skin and round eyes with lines running down under them across his cheeks. Lastly, his hair was white and sharp-looking, with a single sizeable strand sticking out at the crown of his head like an antenna.

Upon catching sight of the four of them, the boy cried out, "Please help me! I'm being chased!"

Kirumi frowned. "Chased? Who's—?"

However, another boy rounded the corner almost immediately. He was slightly shorter than the first boy was, with long, wavy, blackish purple hair that framed his youthful face but also gave him a rather sinister aura. He was also dressed rather oddly in all-white uniform, slightly ripped and long-sleeved. Straps hung loose from his pants, and a few metallic clips held parts of the uniform in place, reminding Ryoma of a straitjacket. A black-and-white checkered scarf was draped around the boy's neck and shoulders. Black and purple slip-on flats and buttons of different colors on his top completed his eccentric look.

Upon spotting them, the boy's face cracked into a mischievous grin. "Ooh, made friends already, Keeboy?" he said playfully, brushing away a lock of his dark purple hair from his face.

"Please stop! Don't come any closer!" said the first boy.

"Wait, wait, what's going on here?" asked Kaede, stepping between the two of them.

"He was chasing me!" said the first boy; as odd as he looked, Ryoma had a hard time believing that his name was "Keeboy" like the second boy was suggesting. "Once I told him who I was, he started harassing me downstairs!"

"May we ask who you are, then?" Kirumi inquired.

At that, the first boy stood up straighter, looking more determined now that there were other students to hopefully shield him from his pursuer. "I am K1-B0, the Ultimate Robot," he said with a proud air. "But please, address me as Keebo!"

Somehow, "Keeboy" suddenly made sense for Ryoma. Though he should have guessed it from the way Keebo was dressed, he still found it rather surprising that he was actually a robot, let alone the Ultimate Robot. Even Kirumi raised her eyebrows in mild amazement.

"W-What? The Ultimate Robot?!" Shuichi cried out.

"Are you, for reals, a robot?" Kaede chimed in, looking astonished.

"Hey, that's not fair!" the second boy yelled suddenly in a petulant tone, forcing them to look back at him. "You can't be the only one who gets to show off! I'll introduce myself too!"

"And you are . . . ?" asked Kirumi.

The boy spread his arms wide and took a mocking bow. "I'm Kokichi Oma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader."

A short silence followed his words. "The Ultimate Supreme Leader?" asked Kaede. "H-How does that work?"

Kokichi shrugged. "Oh, I'm just the supreme leader of an evil secret organization, that's all."

Ryoma grunted skeptically. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," said Kokichi. "I gotta say, it's pretty impressive. My organization has over ten thousand members!"

"An evil secret organization?" asked Kirumi. "And a teenaged boy like you is actually its . . . leader?"

"Who knows?" Again, an impish grin crossed Kokichi's face. "I am a liar, after all."

"Wait, so were you lying just now?" asked Kaede.

"Well, I am the supreme leader of an evil secret organization," said Kokichi in reply. "That part was true."

"So were you lying or not?" Kaede pressed.

Kokichi giggled. "I'm not telling you," he said in a singsong voice.

"Just leave him alone," Keebo interjected, looking resentfully at his pursuer. "Everything he is saying appears to be just a lie. There is no point in having a sensible discussion with him."

"Huh," said Kaede, looking as if she was trying to make sense of what Kokichi had just said. "Um . . . so were you . . . were you actually chasing Keebo here?"

"Nah. I was just trying to get him to lead me to our classroom," said Kokichi, jabbing his thumb at the classroom door. "It was kinda hard trying to find the right door around here, and I was pretty sure that Keeboy here already knew where to go with his x-ray vision and scanners and whatnot, so—"

"I do not have those functions, and you were definitely chasing and harassing me!" Keebo insisted.

"Well, yeah, maybe I lied about you leading me here." Kokichi said matter-of-factly, and Ryoma had to marvel at how casually he could change on a dime. "I was chasing you because I've always wanted to be friends with a robot! Though I learned the hard way before that a robot's breath smells like gasoline. How about yours, Keeboy?"

"My breath does not smell like gasoline!" Keebo exclaimed. "I am powered by electricity!"

Kokichi let out a playful laugh. "I'm just kidding, of course!"

Keebo frowned. "You're not funny."

Ignoring the robot's frustration, Kokichi turned to the others. "So . . . 80-A classmates, hmm? Now all we need is a class mascot to represent us! What do you say, Keeboy?"

"Are you implying that I should be a mascot just because I am a robot?" Keebo glared at him. "I will not tolerate such robophobic remarks!"

Shuichi looked confused. "R-Robophobic?"

"Yes!" the Ultimate Robot exclaimed, rounding on Shuichi and the rest of them. "I'll have you know that I have a built-in recording function, so if anyone makes any robophobic remarks in my presence, I will see them in court!"

"Or maybe you can, y'know, just smash them in the face with a rocket punch," Kokichi suggested.

"I do not have that kind of function!" said Keebo.

"Aww, man. You're boring," said Kokichi, yawning.

Ryoma watched everything unfold in front of him in silence. A robot student preaching about "robophobia" and a childish supreme leader were unusual enough, and yet he could tell that it was only bound to get even weirder from here.

As the morning wore on, more of their supposed classmates arrived, and Ryoma bore witness to eccentricities even more uncanny than that of Kokichi's and Keebo's. Miu Iruma, the Ultimate Inventor, was equal parts obnoxious, perverted and standoffish, choosing to socialize by hurling insults on a whim before badgering a shy and anxious Keebo about his mechanical composition in a highly suggestive way. Tenko Chabashira, the determined and intense Ultimate Aikido Master, bonded confidently with the girls while threatening to use her "Neo-Aikido" to throw the boys clear across the room if they approached her or any of the girls the wrong way. And there was redheaded Himiko Yumeno, who looked rather young and even odder for an Ultimate with her small frame and her uniform, which included an actual witch hat and pointed brown boots; she initially proclaimed that she was the Ultimate Mage and explained that she used real magic to entertain crowds, though she begrudgingly acknowledged after a few questions and clarifications that she was, in fact, the Ultimate Magician on paper.

The more Ryoma observed, the more he saw which of his classmates made him feel rather wary. Angie Yonaga had been too cheerful and carefree for his liking at first, and he only became more cautious of her when she started preaching fervently to all of them about joining her in the worship of Atua, the deity of her island home and the apparent source of her divine inspiration for her works as the Ultimate Artist. Kaito Momota, meanwhile, was loud and filled with an energetic brashness, and he was also one of the few others who recognized Ryoma as a renowned tennis player; Ryoma soon made it a point to steer clear of the Ultimate Astronaut as soon as he started asking him about his tennis-playing days. Still, that was not to say that the quieter ones in class did not make him feel mistrustful as well. Korekiyo Shinguji, the Ultimate Anthropologist, possessed a rather sinister aura that seemed amplified by his tall, almost effeminate figure and the black face mask he wore along with his peculiar military-like uniform; and there was Maki Harukawa, the Ultimate Child Caregiver, silent, aloof and unassuming in her red and black attire but possessing an aura of intensity that raised Ryoma's hackles somehow.

Amidst all the jive that was starting to form from such an amalgamation of unique talents and uncanny quirks, the most memorable entrance by far belonged to Gonta Gokuhara, whose towering, muscled frame and wild mane of greenish brown hair caught everyone off guard as he marched into their room all of a sudden; Gonta was quick to surprise them further, however, when he spoke in a polite—if broken—manner and introduced himself as both the Ultimate Entomologist and a person who wanted to become a "true gentleman." Following right behind him, almost sneaking in unnoticed in the commotion, was a blue-haired, bespectacled girl who introduced herself as Tsumugi Shirogane; Ryoma noticed how her seemingly ordinary black school uniform seemed to bely the fact that she was the Ultimate Cosplayer, and Tsumugi herself was quick to tell everyone just how plain she was in a lot of ways. The last student to arrive was Rantaro Amami, the handsome, stylish and laid-back Ultimate Adventurer who seemed the most normal out of all of them in most aspects, though Ryoma sensed that there was always more to such people than meets the eye.

Once the class was complete, as if on cue, one of the faculty members showed up to tell them what they would be doing; apart from some occasional classes with various teachers, the Ultimates were free to make use of their time to establish ties with their schoolmates and classmates, and to hone their talents in the process. Ryoma did not relish the thought of training his talent, but he welcomed the idea that he was not required to sit in a classroom all day. It had been years since he had attended school, and the thought felt incredibly alien to him now.

In spite of his thoughts about the school and the eccentricities that every student seemed to have, however, it did not take long before Ryoma began envying his schoolmates in silence. All the students of Hope's Peak would cultivate not only improvements and perfections as they honed their talents, but also the hope that the nation saw as the presage to a brighter future. After graduation, they would move on to greener pastures filled with opportunities so that they can utilize their talents for the good of the nation and even the world, paving the way for subsequent batches of Ultimates to follow in their footsteps.

For Ryoma, on the other hand, only prison awaited after graduation. Again, he looked at the students around him, knowing that none of them threw their future away, knowing how all of them had something to live for.

Burdened by melancholy, Ryoma opted to skip lunch as everyone else made their way downstairs for lunchtime later that day. Watching students filing into the dining area to eat did not seem too different from shuffling in line with inmates as daily rations were doled out in a prison cafeteria. Unwilling to dwell on this thought and worsen his mood, he walked quietly outside to one of the school's courtyards, sitting atop a stone bench there and eating his candy cigarette in silence. As time passed, he saw a few more students passing by, having just finished eating lunch and making their way back to wherever they needed to go. Their presence did little to ease the emptiness that he was feeling.

A set of footsteps behind him made him look around. Keebo was there, glancing curiously around at whatever sights there were in the vicinity. He stopped when he spotted Ryoma.

"Hello there," he said with a smile. His eyes gleamed slightly, and Ryoma wondered just what kind of mechanisms were lighting them up. "Have you finished eating?"

"Wasn't in the mood to eat," Ryoma told him. "How about you?"

Keebo looked away rather hesitantly. Only then did Ryoma remember that he was speaking to a robot.

". . . How exactly do you eat?" he asked him.

Keebo stood up straighter, a somber look crossing his pale face; Ryoma had to marvel at how he was able to convey emotions rather well for a robot. "I'm afraid I cannot eat," Keebo replied quietly. "I don't have any functions that would help me consume any kind of food. I wanted to linger in the dining hall for a while, but I didn't feel comfortable looking at all that food and not being able to eat even a little of it."

"Is that so?" said Ryoma. "So you don't . . . you know, starve or anything?"

"No. I only feel weakened when I'm running low on electricity," said Keebo. "My creator, Professor Motohiro Idabashi, has not yet figured out a viable function that would help me recharge without sitting for three hours next to a power source. But I'm hopeful that he will figure something out soon. He is always looking for ways to improve my overall functionality and efficiency. Who knows? Maybe one day, I would be able to eat and drink as well!"

"I see. Well, maybe Miu can help you with some of your other functions while you're here," Ryoma stated. "She's a crude girl, but she seems to know her stuff."

At that, Keebo fidgeted where he stood; Ryoma could tell that he would be blushing if he was an ordinary human being. "Yes, M-Miu does know a lot when it comes to machines and technology," said Keebo. "She is the Ultimate Inventor, after all. . . Although when she told me earlier about installing a number of certain functions in me, I cannot help but feel hesitant about them."

Ryoma grunted at that. As far as first impressions go, Miu was as vulgar as she was foulmouthed, and if her adoration of Keebo earlier in their classroom was any indication, he already had an idea about the kind of functions she would like the Ultimate Robot to have.

"So how exactly are you going to shape your talent?" Ryoma inquired. "I mean, it sounds a bit different from the other ones I've heard. No offense. . ."

"None taken. And yes, it does seem a bit out of place, I'll admit," said Keebo, who seemed pleased at the idea that someone was asking him questions about his talent, "but I plan to improve by learning more and more about a great many things and improving my functions in the meantime. I would learn more about myself as a robot while also growing in the same way that a normal human being would until I am capable of thinking and acting in the same way any human being does. That way, I would be able to prove to the world that robots and humans are not so different after all, and it would even help robophobes reconsider their current mindset."

Even with the way the Ultimate Robot spoke, Ryoma could not help but be cynical. The world can be an unforgiving place, as he had learned regrettably in the past, and someone who was still innocent about it all like Keebo was bound to be treated to the rudest of awakenings in the harsh reality of things sooner or later. Still, he could not bring himself to say so—Keebo sounded so confident and determined that it would be unkind to ruin that for him right now.

"Then I hope you'll be able to fulfill that purpose," he told the Ultimate Robot.

Keebo inclined his head. "Thank you. Anyway, if you'll excuse me, I was looking to spend lunchtime inside the school library. Hopefully, I won't be bothered by Kokichi there. We shall talk again soon, hopefully."

"Sure, go on ahead," said Ryoma. "You don't have to be so polite about it, y'know?"

As Keebo smiled and walked down the corridor, Ryoma watched him go in silence, wondering if he should be jealous that even a robot had something to live for and look forward to whereas he did not.

The first day of classes—if any classes were actually held at all—ended at around five in the afternoon. Bells rang, students filed out of their rooms at random, and the new Ultimates were instructed to proceed to the school's dormitory quarter south of the school to familiarize themselves with their lodgings. Given that there seemed to be more Reserve Course students than there were Ultimates, the dormitories for the Ultimates were less in number compared to those in the Reserve Course quarter. Still, the accommodations were impressive; though the dorm rooms had ordinary facilities like a bathroom, some furniture and a few dressers, the fact that there was one room for each Ultimate student in the academy was remarkable enough. Moreover, there were other feasible locations nearby for additional services, such as a bookstore and a convenience store, reducing the need for students to leave the school to buy what they needed.

Ryoma, who had been expecting to share a room with one or even two of his schoolmates, felt relieved when he found out that each Ultimate would have his or her own room. What he did not count on, however, was the fact that the school seems to have taken the steps necessary to make sure that each Ultimate's room had additional items and amenities that would cater to their talents. In his case, as he entered his room, he saw that there were extra things laid out for him to use—wristbands, some clean tennis shirts and shorts, a few overgrips and even a tennis bag with rackets in it.

Ryoma narrowed his eyes, annoyed. It was one thing to be scouted and recognized as the Ultimate Tennis Pro when he no longer wanted anything to do with tennis, but for him to be reminded of his past by these things was too much for him to handle. Closing the door behind him, he dropped his duffel bag and strode over to his bed. He gathered up the clothes, wristbands and overgrips, walked over to one of the two dressers that he had, and stashed them haphazardly there before slamming the drawers shut. As for the tennis bag, he picked it up and tossed it at the farthest corner of the room that he could see. Only then did he begin to calm down and start stowing away his personal effects in the other dresser.

Hunger soon began creeping in by the time evening arrived. Ryoma got up and made his way to the nearby convenience store to buy food, knowing that staying hungry for the rest of the day would not help his mood. Some Ultimates were still out and about, observing the various shops with excitement and conversing with one another excitedly about what tomorrow would bring. Luckily, no one seemed to pay him any heed when he bought some snacks, and he managed to return to his dorm room without being bothered.

Outside his room's window, Hope's Peak Academy shone like a true beacon of glory, its multitude of lights gleaming amidst the evening's darkness. Nighttime was doing little to convince students to stay indoors, and indeed some of them had chosen this time to explore the plaza and the courtyards and any other pretty sight there was—and there were a lot of them. The corners of Ryoma's mouth crinkled into the tiniest of smiles as he ate and observed the view. In spite of his misgivings about being enrolled as a student here, there was no doubt that the place was beautiful.

But his thoughts soon gave way to unwanted memories, and for a brief moment, Ryoma remembered only blood and pain, briefly ruining the taste of the food in his mouth. He shook his head and carried on eating in silence, his melancholy slowly chasing away that short-lived moment of comfort. The fact that this odd school was causing him to remember things that he should have forgotten a long time ago was starting to take its toll on his patience.

Three years, Hoshi. Three years. That should be simple practice to prepare you for a lifetime in prison.