Prologue: Opening Pandora's Box Chapter 4
(Two weeks later)
Grunts could be heard from the side of the building.
The noble and majestic architecture that is Hope's Peak Academy towered over all in its awe-inspiring presence with the sun overhead shining above as though it were a spotlight putting attention to a magnificent piece of art beneath it.
However, the gates of the school, which were open to all "Ultimates" were shut tightly at the moment. The huge fences surrounding the academy like a parapet of a medieval castle loomed over hostilely towards any would-be trespasser with the state-of-the-art technology of previous Ultimate Students.
Although, that did not deter some from trying to get over the walls that separated the "Talented" with the "Untalented".
Three Reserve Course Students clad in the standard black uniforms that shouted to the world about their status were watching from below.
"It's not going to work," spoke a pony-tailed girl, "Just get down from there already. You're going to get hurt."
The spiky-haired boy climbing over the fence turned around and grinned.
His face was flushed red as though he had a fever.
"Oh, don't worry," the boy said. "I can do this!"
He turned and began to climb again, huffing and puffing. The two other kids beside the pony-tailed girl at the bottom gazed up worried.
"Get down from there!" hissed the girl with a hair-clip in her hair. She gazed around nervously. "Sakakura could come at any moment!"
The buck-toothed boy right next to her was biting his nails, both feeling a mix of fear at being caught and awe at the his companion's act of rebellion.
"Come on," begged the pony-tailed girl. "We got to go."
However, her voice fell on deaf ears as the boy climbed higher.
"Almost there," he muttered.
"Dude, stop," said the buck-toothed boy. "If you're gonna break the rules, don't do it during the daytime!"
"I said almost there," muttered the climber, ignoring the warnings.
He stretched his arm out and grinned as he could feel the tips of his fingers on the other side.
Suddenly a bird gave out a crying noise and the climber, who was not paying attention to where he was stepping, slipped and fell off the fence.
"Ahhhhhh!"
He crashed on the pavement, his left hand and leg twisted in awkward directions.
"Oh no!" cried the buck-toothed boy.
"What the hell are you guys doing!"
The three students froze and turned their heads.
Juzo Sakakura, the Former Ultimate Boxer, and head of the School Security was glaring at them. He was not alone. Chisa Yukizome, the Former Ultimate Housekeeper and teacher of Class 77-B, was walking behind him.
"I thought we already had a talk about sneaking into the school grounds," growled the boxer.
"Um...We...were...just..."
"Cut the bullshit," snarled the boxer, getting in their faces. "Do you think it's a fucking joke or something?"
"W-We..."
Yukizome sighed.
"Calm down, Juzo," she said, patting him on the back. Sakakura ignored her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, sneaking into a school you don't even belong? You think that you can just walk in and waltz out as you please? This ain't a public park or some shit!"
As the students quivered in fear, a voice called out from a distance.
"I'll take care of them."
A gray-haired man wearing sunglasses and holding a music box in his hands approached the scene.
"Sir," acknowledged Sakakura.
The man looked down at the Reserve Course Students.
Then he looked at the boy on the ground. He shoved the music box into his pocket and kneeled down to the boy.
"What's wrong with your leg?"
"I-it hurts!"
The man glanced over his shoulder at the Chisa Yukizome.
"Could you please get the medical staff for me?"
Yukizome nodded and ran to the front.
"As for the rest of you," the man said, "I believe we need to have a talk."
Juzo jumped startled.
"But Hakashita-san," the security guard argued. "These are just Reserve Course Students. Steering Committee members don't usually-"
"Usually what?" the man, Hakashita, said, turning his sunglasses towards Sakakura.
Sakakura hesitated.
"Um..."
"Well," began Hakashita, turning his head. "I would prefer if you let me handle this, Sakakura-san. Be sure that I'll punish them in the correct manner."
The former-Ultimate Boxer begrudgingly relented and stalked away, but not before giving the four students one last glare.
Hakashita turned back to grin at the scared teens.
"Now then, let's have a chat, shall we?"
He sat down comfortably on the ground in a lazy manner.
"The sun's out today." he said, his hand trying to block the sun's rays. "And it's a beautiful day to be out. Why are kids your age so focused on going inside when outside is so beautiful."
The four teens remained silent as the spiky-haired boy needed to lay down on the ground due to his injured leg.
"No matter," the Steering Committee member said. "You want to be inside the school, am I correct?"
They nodded.
"Why is that?"
"B-because it's Hope's Peak Academy," stuttered the buck-toothed boy.
"Hmmm."
"Hope's Peak Academy is the school that brings the best of the best together to help the world, right?"
"And is the school for those who are called 'Ultimates'."
"We're not Ultimates, but we still want to go."
"We paid so much for this school. Why can't we enter?"
Hakashita raised his palm.
"That's because the Reserve Course is separate from the Main Course. We have the Main Course for those who have a specific talent, and the Reserve Course for those who don't. In fact, Hope's Peak Academy prides itself in the distinction." he glanced up at the group with the sunlight glinting off his shades. "It's a bit discouraging, but that's the reality of the situation."
The four students glared at the man.
"But I'm not an Ultimate. So what?" said the spiky-haired student. "I just want to go and see what inside the school looks like. I won't even go near the main course or anything."
The other three gaped at him for speaking so audaciously towards a Committee member, but the gray-haired man simply laughed.
"HAHAHAHA!"
The four students jumped as he roared, slapping his knee good-humoredly.
"I like that spirit!"
He got off the ground, brushing his pants off.
"But that still does not excuse your behavior. It's punishment time." he said with his sunglasses glinting
"P-punishment…?"
"Yes. Prepare for execution."
The students glanced at each other.
"Don't worry. We will not have you expelled."
They gave a sigh of relief.
"You have to..."
He gave a dramatic pause. The whole world seemed to be silent, as if listening in on whatever Hakashita had to say. The birds fell silent, the growing mumble of the Main Course sounding more distant, and the crickets simmering to a halt.
"...help me with the dishes!"
The students blinked.
"Wait...WHAT?"
"So this is the classroom for Class 77-B," spoke the Committee Member.
The four Reserve Course Students stared at the huge double doors that had a plaque that read, "77-B". The spiky-haired boy had to get crutches after the medical staff came and patched up his leg.
"Where is Class 77-B anyways?" asked the pony-tailed girl.
"Currently, they are in the middle of the second semester," replied Hakashita, "meaning that they are out doing a field trip. In fact, they're currently at a beach in the moment."
The four grimaced.
"What's the matter?" asked the gray-haired man.
"We can't even enter the school, but the Classes are able to go on field trips whenever they please?" grumbled the buck-toothed boy, the most bitter of the four.
The pony-tailed girl patted him on the back.
"Don't worry," reassured Hakashita, "this will just be a sneak peek, a little taste of what's to come."
"So, what is your plan for us?"
"Do you know Teruteru Hanamura?" the man asked. "He cooked up a fine going-away meal for the class before leaving. Mrs. Yukizome wanted to clean the dishes, but I told her to leave the dirty dishes behind."
The students looked at the momentous pile right in front of them.
"There are 60 plates, 110 utensils, and 37 pots here," Hakashita said, counting the number of objects with his fingers. "And we need to wash them all."
"Wait, so we need to clean them all?"
"Yeah, that's the price you pay for breaking school rules."
The four looked at each other, the spiky-haired boy sighing and the hair-clipped girl shrugging.
"I suppose this is better than getting expelled," grumbled the buck-toothed boy.
"Hey," said the man. "Watch this."
He grabbed a dish and threw it in the air.
The four gasped and watched the dish sail through the air, and then suddenly it began spinning in mid-air. It was a bizarre sight, seeing a plate in the air spin as though gravity was not affecting it.
He grabbed the dish and spun it like a basketball before tossing it and kicking it into the air. The students thought he would have broken the dish, but he was just so agile and dexterous as he scrubbed it away that it came out more as though he were some sort of professional juggler.
"Whoa."
He tossed the plate again, this time spinning it, and then grabbing the plate as it went flying over his head and catching it behind his back.
"You could say that I'm pretty..." he said, scrubbing the dish one more time. "Slick."
The four stared at him.
"Get it?" he asked again. "Because dishes are slick after they're cleaned?"
"That was the worst pun I have ever heard," the pony-tailed girl said bluntly.
The other three nodded in agreement.
Hakashita's grin never faded and he set the plate down.
"Alright, now it's your turn."
An hour went by, and the four were huddled around the sink, exhausted and drenched. The had scrubbed and scraped, doused and dried every last kitchen utensil from the enormous pile. The once grease and stained pile of dishes was no more as a clean mountain of pearly white shone brightly as a token of their work.
"My arms feel like noodles," whined the pony-tailed girl.
"This sucks," muttered the hair-clipped girl.
Hakashita paid them no mind, humming a strange tune to himself.
"We did everything you wanted," the spiky-haired boy said. "What now?"
"Well," he said, pulling out a staff member card. "How about a little picnic?"
"Wow," muttered the ponytailed girl as she and the other Reserve Course students stood up on the rooftop and gazed down at the land below.
The grass was neatly cut, trees were placed in perfect locations, and the sky was shining above them. The whole area seemed to have an aura of perfection surrounding it.
"I can't believe I'm actually here," cried the hair-clipped girl.
"And no one will disturb us," said Hakashita, looking at the two buildings that were on both sides of the courtyard.
The spiky-haired boy limped around the place, taking in every sight.
"It's just like in the photos," the buck-toothed boy said.
"Oh, how about we have lunch together?" said Hakashita, pulling out a couple of boxes.
"Lunch?"
"My treat."
The four looked at each other, then their stomachs, and finally back at Hakashita.
"Why not?" said the pony-tailed girl.
"Great, I was thinking maybe some soba."
"I'll take a bowl of soba then."
"And I'll have some curry."
"Me too."
"Same here."
"And I'll have a bowl of ramen."
The four ate as Hakashita chuckled.
"Now that we're reaching the end of our tour, let me show you something."
He held up a finger. The four students looked closely at the finger.
It began to glow a warm orange-red color before a single flame danced on the tip.
The students' eyes went wide as the fire swirled and twisted. Hakashita smirked.
"Let's see if I still have it in me," he said.
The flame grew to the size of a baseball and he began juggling it with the same grace he had done with the dishes. He tossed it up and down and in between his legs. The four stared in amazement.
"Is that some sort of trick?" asked the buck-toothed boy.
"Well, a trick is a simple act performed to entertain. However, this is not a trick. This is art."
"Are you the Ultimate Pyrotechnician?" asked the hairclipped girl.
"The Ultimate Street Performer?" questioned the spiky-haired boy.
He merely laughed and then turned the flames into different shapes of a bird, cat, and dog all dancing about.
Hakashita then spread his arms out and the flames dissipated.
"Wow."
The man bowed and tipped his imaginary hat.
"And you get a chance to have something like that too."
"Huh?"
"Aren't you tired of being looked down upon. Aren't you tired of being the only ones without anything special to call your own?"
"Um...yeah..."
"And if you could have the chance to have a talent of your own, would you take it?"
The four thought for a moment.
"Of course."
"Excellent. Then how about we make another deal?"
Flames burst again and four sets of pen and papers emerged.
"If you sign your names on these contracts, then you will be given an opportunity of a lifetime. You will be granted a talent that is beyond what anyone else has and you will be part of the new elite. However, there will be some conditions."
The four ignored the readings and immediately signed the contracts.
"Alright then, that's a deal," said the gray-haired man, extinguishing the flames.
He flicked his hand and threw a card to the pony-tailed girl.
"Just be sure to spread the word to your friends back at the Reserve Course for me, would ya?"
The card read AMATSU MIKABOSHI.
The four turned their heads up, but the man was already gone.
"Back already."
Hakashita dusted his jacket and walked to Junko who was sitting behind the control panels and watching the slaughter before them.
She was in front of multiple screens emitting her face brightly, portraying the bloodshed that was currently happening. A girl with glasses was mowing down other members of the Council with a chainsaw, a burly man stabbed a short girl with a yellow hoodie in the neck before meeting the same fate by a boy with glasses, while a red head boy stabbed a pink-haired girl, taking a step back in horror.
"I hope you plan to keep some alive at least." the gray-haired man took out his music box.
Junko frowned and gestured to the screen.
"It's the killing game, what do you expect?"
Hakashita sighed.
"Well, can't blame me for trying."
He glanced around the room and looked at Mukuro Ikusaba.
"Hello, wolf."
Mukuro grunted, not pleased with the name.
"I've heard you are a good singer," he said, "I wonder if you'll give me a little opera performance for the next school play."
The Ultimate Soldier turned to glare at him, but he simply smirked.
"Ah, I see you are not interested in the theater."
"Mukuro can't sing shit," said Junko. "She sounds like a dying cat whenever she opens her mouth."
"Is that so? Perhaps I will rescind my offer."
He looked up at the screen and saw the red-haired Sosuke Ichino stalking towards the couple in front of him, Taro Kurosaki and Tsubasa Kamii.
"Well, that's my queue."
He stretched and took a step back.
"I have some contractors to save."
The two sisters immediately turned towards the man, but he was gone without a trace.
The white haired girl, Tsubasa Kamii and the black-haired boy Taro Kurosaki embraced in what would probably be their last moment together.
"We don't need to follow their awful example," Kurosaki said to the girl in front of him.
He let go and gave her a smile, clutching the gun to his chest.
Tsubasa, holding her own gun closely, said. "Let's bring this to a beautiful end."
"Yes."
They held the guns to each other's necks and prepared to pull the trigger, but a hacking cough disrupted the moment of tranquility. Tsubasa opened her eyes to see Taro step back, his eyes dilated and he spat a glob of pink blood in her face. A metal pole jutted through his body, staining his Hope's Peak Academy with the same blood that he spat on her.
Tsubasa was too shocked to move as Kurosaki's body fell on her and she struggled to see the culprit.
Glancing up with tears in her eyes was Sosuke glaring down with a maddened look in his eyes, angry tears flustering down his face. It was different from his usual relaxed and laid-back behavior. He gripped a shovel in his hands murderously
She choked out a little. "W-why?"
Kamii let out a cry of pain as he slammed the shovel on the pole, feeling the metal pierce her flesh as she felt a warm tinge on her stomach.
"SHUT UP!"
"Well, well, isn't this a little barbaric?"
The two turned around and saw a gray-haired man with sunglasses and a suit walking towards them. He stopped a few feet away, not wanting to get hit by the shovel, and looked down at the corpse on top of Tsubasa.
"Really, killing the guy in front of his fiance is a little low, don't you think."
Sosuke didn't say anything and slammed his shovel into the man's face as hard as he can.
He expected some blood and broken teeth to come out but instead the metal crumbled into the shape of the man's face, just like one of those American anime on Sunday mornings.
The gray-haired man took the shovel off his face and looked at the imprint carefully.
"Aw man. I blinked."
He sighed and snapped his fingers. Sosuke gasped as the shovel began to disintegrate into a fine powder and flew away into the air.
"What the hell?"
"Really, smacking someone in the face?" he adjusted his sunglasses. "Didn't your parents teach you not to hit shovels in other people's faces?"
"What's it to you?!" roared Sosuke. "I have nothing left! Everything is gone! Kiriko Nishizawa is dead! The only thing I have left is to kill all of you!"
He charged at the man again, but he disappeared and reappeared behind him.
"Too slow."
He tripped Sosuke and caught him by the collar.
"Rage makes you reckless. There are other ways to use that anger."
Grunting, Sosuke tried punching at the man again, but the gray-haired man caught the fist and twisted his arm around his back.
"Argh! LET ME GO!"
"Okay." He let go and the Ultimate fell to the floor.
The boy gasped while the man put his arms back, waiting.
Sosuke roared and charged again, swinging a right hook at him.
"Not bad."
"GAHHH!"
A sharp kick to the knee sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Your stance is sloppy and you're relying too much on your right side. And your left arm is hanging down a little too far. You leave yourself open for attack."
Sosuke, ignoring the lecture, grabbed the gun from Taro's body and pointed it at the man.
"A little trigger-happy now, are we?"
"What's it to you?!"
"Nothing," replied the gray-haired man, walking calmly even though he was in line of fire. "But, I think you'll regret this action later."
He reached his hand out.
"Here, let me hold that for you."
Sosuke fired and a loud bang filled the air.
The man slapped the bullet out of the air with his bare hands and grabbed the gun, throwing it away.
"Children should not play with dangerous toys."
He then throat-chopped the Ultimate in front of him. Sosuke's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped onto his face, unconscious.
"A little sleep never hurts anybody."
He dusted his suit.
"Now then..."
The gray-haired man glanced over at Tsubasa who had managed to get Kurosaki's body off of her and was sobbing into his chest, not caring about her own wounds which were mixing her blood into the other Ultimate's own in a sickly pink mesh.
"Hey, I don't want to interrupt or anything, but if you die from blood loss, you won't have any time to grieve."
Tsubasa glanced at the man and then at the blood pooling underneath her.
He tore off a piece of his suit and wrapped it around her waist.
She glanced up with a dead look in her eyes.
"What's the point?" she murmured.
"What?"
"I have nothing left." she said. "Taro is gone..."
"Well," he sat down right next to her, "there are more fish in the ocean."
He winced as Tsubasa sobbed.
"That was uncalled for." he muttered to himself. "Anyway, I'm sorry but I'm kinda in a hurry right now so..."
He throat chopped her like he did with Sosuke, the white-haired girl slumped, unconscious.
He lifted the two bodies up.
"Two down, four more to go." he paused. "Junko won't be happy."
He was right.
Junko was not happy.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!" screamed Junko, kicking the unconscious body of Sosuke Ichino.
"What does it look like?" asked the gray-haired man.
"I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE A TOTAL PARTY KILL!"
She flailed her arms to the six sleeping people right in front of her.
"Instead, all of these fuckers are still alive!"
He paid her no attention, instead flicking at the ahoge of one Soushun Murasame, the Ultimate Student President.
"Don't ignore me!"
Mukuro hid her smirk at the scene.
"This is so annoying," complained Junko. "I just wanted some despair! Instead, I'm left with six living pieces of shit!"
"Let's wait and see how the school will react."
She crossed her arms and huffed.
"Whatever. It's not like we need these guys anyway."
Hakashita raised an eyebrow.
"On the contrary, I believe that they still have some benefits."
He raised his arms toward the survivors.
"We both know that Hope's Peak cares nothing for lives, only their precious 'Hope'. Correct?"
Junko nodded.
"They'll surely cover up the entire Killing Game."
"But you brought in six people," Mukuro said, "Won't they investigate the case?"
Hakashita pointed to the individual in the back of the room on one of the cameras, his red eyes staring in a stoic expression, unchanged from when he woke up a week ago.
"Our friend, Kamukara, was seen here during the entire affair. It won't look good if the stolen experiment of the 'Ultimate Hope' was seen fraternizing in a massacre. Besides, I can always 'edit' certain portions of the feed."
Mukuro looked doubtful.
"You'll be fine, wolf." Hakashita said.
"I have no idea what you're saying, but it sounds like you're mocking me."
He simply grinned.
"Just have a little faith in me, alright?"
Mukuro opened her mouth to argue, but Junko stopped her.
She turned back to Hakashita with a blank expression on her face, one Mukuro had never seen before. It scared her more than whenever Junko acted one of her usual crazy and erratic behaviors.
"I could kill you right now."
"Remember, who was the one who stole Kamukura away from the Steering Committee? Who was the one who sped up your Killing Game from January to right now in September? And who was it, I wonder, that gave her access to the Steering Committee's power?"
Junko stared at him for a while.
"Oh, whatever."
She threw her hands in the air.
"Fine. As long as it brings despair, it's good enough for me."
He gave a mock salute.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"And what will you do now?"
He looked down at the group laying before him. "I have plans for these guys. I'll be their…guardian angel for the moment. Meanwhile, are the preparations for Class 77-B ready?"
Junko smirked and Mukuro was once again taken aback.
It wasn't a smile that Junko usually had. It wasn't one that was crazed or malicious. It was a cold, calculating one.
It was a smile that Mukuro would soon learn to dread.
"Not yet, but everything is in place. We just need to make a few more adjustments."
Hakashita looked over her shoulder at the screen showing the 77th Class of Hope's Peak Academy.
Junko grinned a Cheshire smile as she looked at the smiling faces of the Ultimates. She pointed at a certain orange-haired woman wearing a maid outfit.
"Chisa Yukizome has been ordered by Kyosuke Munakata to spy on the happenings here at this school. She could be an excellent Guinea pig for Project Despair Video."
"Hmmm...you mean that video you made?"
"Exactly," the Ultimate Despair said, her smile widening. "We're gonna have a little fun with her."
"Very well. I'll leave that to you."
Hakashita walked past the sisters and disappeared .
Mukuro looked back at Junko.
"Sister?"
"What is it?"
"Did you get everything about him?"
Junko looked confused for a moment, then she realized what her sister was talking about.
"Ah. That."
"What did you find?"
Junko tapped her chin.
"There are certain ways to find out if people are lying to you. First, there's the voice. It's not easy to fake a voice and the best way to catch someone who is lying is to watch their tone. When a person is lying, their pitch gets higher. However, when a person is telling the truth, the pitch gets lower."
She then pointed at herself.
"Then there's the face. If you're looking for facial expressions, keep an eye on their forehead and eyebrows. When a person lies, their eyebrows tend to lift up and their forehead wrinkles, showing a sign of anxiety."
She then looked up at the ceiling.
"Then, there's the body. People's eyes, hands, and feet can all betray them. The eyes move when they lie. They shift and avert. Hands often fidget. Feet tend to point in the direction a person wants to go, a physical indication of a desire to escape."
Junko glanced back to Mukuro. "The weirdest thing is that I couldn't tell whether or not he was telling the truth or not. He could be a great actor, but then again, his face is pretty damn neutral all the time.
"So you don't know?"
"No."
Mukuro was stunned. It wasn't like her sister to not know something.
"All I know about Hakashita is what he had portrayed himself as. But I wonder, why would a Steering Committee member turn on Hope's Peak Academy? Unless..."
Mukuro connected the dots.
"It's an impostor."
Junko grinned and snapped her fingers.
"Ding ding ding! We have a winner."
She walked past her sister and patted her on the head.
"Whoever he is, I'm sure we'll be able to use him to our advantage."
"And what if he eventually decides he doesn't want to continue this alliance any longer?"
"Then," she said, her smile becoming wider, "If I find out Hakashita-kun steps even a toe out of line, then he will suffer hell"
Mukuro nodded. She had seen the things Junko had done on others who crossed her before. And even if they did not cross her, she did it anyway for the sake of her Despair.
"How about Makoto?" Junko turned to ask her sister.
Mukuro stepped back flustered. Despite the fact that she had this strange fascination towards him, she didn't spend much time with him aside from the occasional greeting (and sometimes her stalking him when he wasn't looking).
However, looking at Junko's eyes, she knew what she had to answer.
"He's just some loser. He won't get in the way of anything."
Even though her feelings about Naegi were...complicated, she would always put Junko above everything else.
"Good."
She got up and pinched her sister's freckled cheeks playfully.
"I expect nothing else from my darling sister."
Junko let go of the Ultimate Soldier's face and walked towards the screens and glanced at the smiling faces of Class 77-B.
She faced Mukuro again, who was rubbing her stinging cheeks and gave her a cool-eyed stare.
"How do the Remnants of Despair sound to you?"