Game of Wits (Hope's Peak Academy)

0.1 (PROLOGUE)

Suzume Fujimori had been perfect her whole life.

The world opened up to the talented. Embraced them and gulped them down into the messy stomach of high society, where they could use their wits and tricks to tear their way in to the very top. It was quite easy- but not because you were born with it.

To rise to the top of society- there were only two things that one must do.

Elevate themselves.

Plummet their surroundings.

You would have the highest pedestal, surrounded by a cluster of nobodies at the bottom. If there were no second, there was no third or fourth, or even anybody- you were alone in your grandeur, and the world admired you for it.

Suzume had managed both.

She was talented, and she was ruthless. It was how she had become the Ultimate Scientist and threaded her way into the higher levels of society; it was the only way how.

And now she was here. At Hope's Peak Academy. A High School, since age kept you qualified, regardless of your experience.

She wasn't fully sure how to feel about it. To some extent, it should be condescending. To another, something admirable.

But no matter which light she cast it in, the fact that it was a punishment outweighed all merit.

If only she hadn't-

"Hello! Who might you be?"

Relieved, and somewhat guilty, Suzume turned back to face the owner of the voice. A man- no, a boy- stood in front of her, panting, hands on his knees. He was gulping for air, evidently just broken out of a run.

But when he looked up, he didn't seem out of breath at all. "Another Ultimate!" He clapped his hands together. "How delightful! I hoped I wouldn't be alone."

She blinked, trying to discern if he were flirting with her. "Yes. I am Suzume Fujimori, Ultimate Scientist."

"Excellent!" He thrust out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Suzume Fujimori. My name is Amano Tetsuo!" He beamed at her.

Suzume took his hand limply, and let it slip from her hand. His smile faltered. "Are you another Ultimate?" she asked curiously. She could go either way with him- young teacher or teenager- he could be the cusp. There were some people who were hard to discern. Suzume hadn't exactly had the most experience with other people, though- She blinked, clearing her head. He was talking again.

"-right about that! I'm the Ultimate Director. An impressive talent, eh? I'm pretty proud of it, myself."

"I suppose I can see why," she said, though she did not. "Shouldn't we be going?"

"Yes, of course." Amano Tetsuo's face looked somewhat red. "We need to- get to the school." He shook his head. "I apologize- I shouldn't hold you back."

"No. You shouldn't." Suzume brushed past him. "That's no way for anyone, Ultimate especially, to treat someone." She examined the mechanism on the gate. It appeared to be keycarded.

She ran it through. It answered instantly. The gate creaked open, moaning at the top of its figurative lungs. It should have screaming gargoyles. It was that kind of gothic fence.

The pathway was pleasant. For an old facility, it had a certain fresh aura to it. Although it still felt old. Perhaps as if it were in the proper era-? Fresh enough it felt natural, but old enough it could be traced back.

The greenery, perhaps. It was trimmed to perfection. She paused to admire a clipped bush.

Something smashed into the side of her neck.

Suzume crumpled like a ragdoll- a toy, she thought hysterically, some child's plaything-

Amano's face was right next to her. Blood pooled around his head. His eyes were shut closed.

He's dead. And me-

SHE WOULD NOT DIE SHE WOULD NOT DIE-

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a single form. Wings reared up from the back. Feathers drifted down, a twirling mess of leaves. It was here. An angel, here for deliverance. Punishment-

And then the world went black.

—

Amano Tetsuo understood people. But they'd never understood him.

He'd always been the weird kid. The one with the socks pulled too high, the one who called the teacher on their games, the one who couldn't make friends for the life of him.

It wasn't all that hard to understand why others didn't like him. Societal norms and the like- a big smile wasn't welcome on thin, cracked lips.

You couldn't choose to fit in a norm you weren't made to fit into.

Amano chose to ignore that. He would do it, if he could. There was no need for love, or kindness- he was simply himself and he would do just fine. If he understood people enough, he could flatter them and they would be his.

He was wrong, though not in his methods. In how they'd be applied.

You could be a good leader, he discovered, if you knew how to manipulate people. You could turn the tide of the conversation, and drag the worthless up. If you could make people yours then you could use them as tools to further anything you had in mind to do.

That was why he'd been chosen as the Ultimate Director. But it wasn't why he had come here.

The Suzume girl was unfriendly. She kept looking away from him. He suspected an underlying issue. She was guilty, more likely than not. Of course, she could be uncomfortable with him personally- but she'd turned her back to him. There was no fear. She just didn't like looking people in the eyes.

Amano liked that he'd figured her out. Maybe all the Ultimates would be easy to read? You couldn't have cultivated walls if you'd spent your life cultivating a talent.

He'd followed her through the gate. He couldn't help humming as it closed behind him.

Hope's Peak Academy really was a masterpiece of architecture.

Suzume's blue hair bobbed in front of him. He watched the movements, mesmerized. Was there something alive in there? Or was it alive itself, some abnormal creature with-

A crunch sounded by his ear and he tumbled to the ground.

Suzume's blue hair moved, toffee fingers tucking it behind her ears. She was studying something, reaching for it.

Run-

And then she tumbled down next to him and all went black.

A single sillouette of a person, streaming black hair down their shoulders, an enormous white grin on their face- A person who Amano couldn't know, who couldn't know Amano-

No, he-

Amano passed out.

—

Keiki Meyumi didn't care what other people thought of them. They were the Ultimate Short-Story Writer. They had a way with words, a way with fashion, a way of persuading people. They were beautiful in and out, they were strong and resilient in every way.

Or so they told themself.

Somehow, they could almost see the end of the story, before it began. If only they hadn't been so naive...

Keiki Meiyumi awoke, in an unfamiliar environment. There were no broken bottles here. There was no yelling, no arguing voices. Only confused entanglements of words they couldn't quite dispatch, and a strange, robotic, maniacal voice that turned their blood to ice.

The Game had begun, and there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Keiki would finally have to face themself.

As would Suzume Fujimori and Amano Tetsuo.

Or die.