Chapter Text
Kazuichi Soda, Ultimate Doujinshi Author, felt insignificant.
He stood in the gymnasium, surrounded by his new classmates, all of whom probably had better, more “legitimate” talents that had gotten them into Hope’s Peak Academy. He'd been reluctant to go up and introduce himself to everyone, since from the introductions he had overheard (like “Ultimate Biker Gang Leader”, “Ultimate Programmer”, and even “Ultimate Clairvoyant”), his talent sounded like a fluke. He braced himself for comments like, “I didn't know Hope’s Peak was scouting for professional perverts,” and “So your whole thing is making money from other people’s content?” and “OK, why are you really here?”. Fortunately, no one had said these out loud (someone had offhandedly asked if he made eromanga as well, but that was it so far), but after the few introductions he had made, Kazuichi knew that was what they were most likely thinking.
Of course, that didn't mean it wasn’t true. It was just… something people didn’t normally talk about in person, especially in the presence of what he assumed was the “elite” of his age group.
He expected a more sympathetic response from the Ultimate Writing Prodigy, Nagito Komaeda, but to his surprise, he openly spoke down to Kazuichi about his talent, even though Kaz knew for absolute certain that the man made his entire career out of writing smut.
He knew for a fact that no one there took him seriously, and the way he looked definitely didn’t help. Over the last few years, he’d made some extreme changes to his appearance so he could feel closer to some of his favorite anime characters, but it was only now, being forced out into the open and being expected to mingle with other “Ultimates”, that he realized these changes were more embarrassing than “cool”. His neon pink hair was tied in a low ponytail, and his equally neon pink eyes scanned the crowd, his gaze nervously flitting between each of his classmates. The contact lenses were meant more for professional cosplay than actually helping him see, so he still wore his black-rimmed glasses, fruitlessly hoping that his new, exotic eye color made a good distraction from the fact that he otherwise looked like a complete dork. Kaz gritted his artificially sharpened teeth (that had by far been the most expensive and admittedly unnecessary procedure) together, and he fidgeted with the strap of his pin-covered messenger bag, which contained (among other things) his sketchbook, art supplies, notebooks, and several manga volumes he was currently reading. His loose-fitting black t-shirt showcased art from an obscure anime, and his weathered jeans were covered in patches bearing various logos and stylized Kanji characters.
Then again, there were a few other oddballs here as well, which made Kazuichi feel a little better. The “Ultimate Gambler” was a giant of a man named Nekomaru Nidai, who was always aggressively jovial, even though his eyes betrayed the gears turning in his head, constantly mapping out his—and everyone else’s—next moves. The “Ultimate Gyaru” was actually a very nice and down-to-earth girl named Mahiru Koizumi, and the “Ultimate Moral Compass” was a timid girl named Mikan Tsumiki. The latter didn’t appear to be a natural leader—at least, not in Kazuichi’s eyes—but he figured it was because she hid her power until her services were required.
Or something. It sounded like something from a manga he’d read, anyway.
The strangest (and arguably most aggressive) student he’d found was the “Ultimate Biker Gang Leader”… an incredibly petite and harmless-looking girl with long, blond pigtails named Hiyoko Saionji.
He’d thought it was funny at first.
At first.
Fearing for his testicles after that brief conversation, Kazuichi stood by the open gym doors, praying that the last few people would get there soon so the opening ceremony could finally start.
Fourteen, he’d counted. Fourteen, including himself.
So there was just one person missing. He groaned. Who was holding everyone up?!
Suddenly, he heard a faint voice coming from the other side of the hallway, gradually getting louder as (Kazuichi presumed) the person was getting closer to the gym.
“… at this point, I really do wonder if you wish to keep your job. Your incompetence is sickening. I made it perfectly clear before I left that this was a hiatus, and that means nothing on my calendar until further notice. And yet what do I see as I pull in? A tour scheduled for late November going into April. You really want to explain to those venues why I’m not even going to be there?!”
Why was that voice so familiar?
“About time he showed up,” mumbled a voice from beside him. Kazuichi hadn't even heard Hajime Hinata—Ultimate Programmer—approach. Then again, the guy always looked like he was part of the background even though he was just a few feet away.
“What’s his deal?” Kazuichi asked.
Hinata shrugged. “Guy thinks he’s better than everyone else because he has to fly to America every other week for something or other. I don’t know. I don’t keep up with that stuff.”
“Yes, I am filling up your voicemail,” the newcomer continued, “but that should be the least of your worries, shouldn't it?!”
Kazuichi still couldn’t quite put his finger on where he’d heard that deep voice before. The guy had said something about a “tour” and “venues”, but…
And then he rounded the corner and came into view. And Kazuichi was able to behold… whatever it was that was in front of him.
Kaz's brain couldn’t take in the entire sight at once.
The tall, lean figure was heading toward the gym at a brisk pace, although how anyone could even take a single step in those shoes, let alone powerwalk, without shattering their ankles was beyond Kazuichi’s limited understanding of physics. There were at least ten inches of platform beneath each foot, yet he walked as effortlessly as if he had no shoes on at all.
And… that outfit. That blur of red, white, and black.
It was so loud that, had they not been sealed and bolted down with thick iron, every window in the building would have shattered immediately. Perhaps that was why the school had to take such extreme precautionary measures: The guy unapologetically dressed like he was only meant to be viewed from half a mile away.
And everyone else seemed to get the memo, since they were now actively keeping their distance. Kazuichi was the only one who hadn’t retreated to the other side of the gym.
“Look, as much as it pains me not to waste the next several hours of my life trying to reach you, I’m running late. Find out what happened, find out who didn't update my calendar, and call me back,” the newcomer concluded, hanging up the cell phone as he finally stepped into the gym.
“About time,” the Ultimate Lucky Student, Akane Owari, grumbled.
“T-t-t-tardiness is inexcusable!” Tsumiki squeaked. “C-consider yourself f-fortunate that our t-teacher is not h-here yet as well!”
“Of course he has to make a whole entrance out of it,” Koizumi added. “Can’t just walk into a room like a normal person.”
“Is it just me, or does this room reek of homo?” Saionji growled loud enough for the whole gym to hear. “If I spend another five minutes around this guy, my boys will start sucking dick!”
If the newcomer was offended by any of these comments, he clearly didn’t show it. He only sighed and looked around the room until his gaze landed on Kazuichi.
“My apologies,” that deep, cool, rumbling voice said. That voice that clearly did not match the flamboyance radiating from the rest of his body, even his face. “I had an unexpected schedule conflict, and I’ve been trying to get in contact with the individual who can correct it. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to do so for the past forty-five minutes, and conflicts such as these need to be resolved immediately.”
Kazuichi couldn’t look away from his eyes. One was red with silver eyeshadow; one was silver with red eyeshadow. Both patterns, interrupted only by stray black bangs, dissolved into meticulously placed jewels along his temples. The makeup wasn’t exaggerated enough to be considered drag; it was a masterpiece on a handsome, masculine face that he himself as an artist could appreciate.
… Was he saying all this about a dude?
“And with all that needless hassle, my voice is gone for today,” he lamented, even though Kazuichi thought his voice sounded fine. “I won’t be able to start practice again until tomorrow morning.” He sighed. “Oh, well.”
Suddenly, it clicked. Kazuichi didn’t know exactly what made it click—whether it was something the newcomer said, the way he said it, or even the lighting on his face being at just the right angle—but suddenly, he knew.
“You’re… Gundham Tanaka, aren’t you?” Kazuichi asked meekly.
He chuckled as he gave a theatrical bow. “I am.”
Honestly, Kazuichi hadn’t thought about that name in months, if not at least a year. There were three main reasons: First, he’d wanted to block out as much of the outside world as possible so he could focus on his projects. Second, he’d wanted to tune out his younger sisters who would not shut up about the guy even as his popularity in Japan had begun to wane.
Third, he’d (like most people, probably) had no idea that Gundham Tanaka was even real. Like, a real, actual, living, breathing person and not a figment of the world’s collective imaginations. Like an intense fever dream or vivid hallucination shared by everyone on Planet Earth. The gatekeeper of every LSD trip ever experienced by man. It had just never registered in his head that there was an individual living on the aforementioned Planet Earth that had taken on the name “Gundham Tanaka” (Or was that actually his real name? No one really knew, and before this moment, Kazuichi had never cared), performed on stage, traveled the world many times over, and who was currently standing in front of him complaining about someone (his agent, maybe?) not returning his calls.
It still didn’t register in his head.
Tanaka had a reputation for being (to put it lightly) mysterious and “exotic”. He’d been a novelty in Japan for a few years due to his memorable non-sequiturs, extravagant and over-the-top costumes, and unconventional blend of music genres; however, after he absolutely exploded in the West (for practically the same reasons), the nation was forced to acknowledge him once again, even considering him as a prime candidate for Hope’s Peak due to his “innovation” (again, to put it lightly) of the J-Pop genre. His music wasn’t half bad, and he seemed like a decent guy under all that… everything, but his notoriety had grown to the point where most people were either enamored or repulsed by him—no in-between at all. For every member of his “cult”, there was someone who wished he’d just move to America already so the country could finally be rid of him.
And yet… here he was.
At his school.
Tanaka said something.
“Huh?” Kazuichi asked.
“And you are?” he repeated.
“Oh, uh… Kazuichi Soda.” Without thinking, he extended a hand to Tanaka. “Uh, they call me, uh, the, uh, Ultimate… Doujinshi Author. I mean, that’s the official title, anyway, but, y’know, I do more than, uh…”
God, Tanaka was tall in those shoes.
“A pleasure, Kazuichi.” He accepted the handshake and by God, that hand was soft and those artificial nails were so gorgeous up close, they—
Kaz.
Get it together.
This is a dude.
Not just any dude but the dude your sisters literally fought over for months on end.
The dude whose signed posters your mom spent a fortune on getting for each of the girls because sharing one was absolutely out of the question.
And now you’re saying she needs to buy another one?
Are you really going to admit that to the girls with a straight face?
Get.
It.
Together.
Kazuichi abruptly broke the handshake and crossed his arms.
“So you’re a fan artist?” Tanaka asked, pulling his hand away as well. There was no mockery or condescension in his voice whatsoever. “Like for manga and anime, correct?”
“Yeah.” Somehow, it was even more embarrassing for someone to take a genuine interest in his passion. Part of him wished Tanaka would just make fun of him like Komaeda had.
“A significant part of what keeps the creative community fresh and vibrant is the freedom and challenge to take another’s content and provide a fresh interpretation of it, giving it the same time, dedication, and passion as one would their own original creations.” Those eyes were intense, yet also enthusiastic and inviting. “I’ve arranged my fair share of covers over the course of my career, and they’ve been some of my favorite projects to work on. It’s truly an art, the balance between keeping the spirit of the original alive while adding just enough of your creative influence to make it seem brand new, even to an audience who has adored the original for years.”
… He liked it when Tanaka said words.
“Yeah, that’s… That’s exactly it,” Kazuichi said after taking a moment to process what Tanaka had said. “I mean, I’ve been trying for years to think of a way to describe how I feel about my art and what it means, but… that’s exactly it.”
“Seeing as you are an Ultimate in your field, I can only assume you achieve this balance well,” Tanaka continued, smiling at him. “I look forward to seeing your work and the thought process behind your creative choices.”
What was that tingle that had just run up his spine? Was it because Tanaka had complimented his work without even seeing it? Or was it because Tanaka had complimented his work without even seeing it? Why did he even care what Tanaka thought? Why was he even still here talking to Tanaka? Who was Tanaka? What was a Tanaka?
“T-Thank you.” Even if he had, for whatever reason, fantasized about meeting Gundham Tanaka in person, Kazuichi would have never expected Tanaka to be so… Intellectual? Classy? On his level, if not wildly surpassing it? He’d thought Tanaka would have had the intelligence of a goldfish, but he made Kazuichi look like the goldfish in comparison… and Kazuichi wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Sure, he now had someone he could freely talk about his passion projects with, but never in his wildest dreams did he think it would be…
“I suppose it’s only fair that I officially introduce myself as well, since I have been given this title and have yet to officially bear it.” Tanaka cleared his throat, grinning. “Very well! I am known far and wide only as Gundham Tanaka,” he struck a dramatic pose, “and I am here among you all on the grounds of being the Ultimate Idol!”