Chapter Text
The halls were packed with students. Well, as packed as this particular school could be. A swathe of colours filled the floor between the racks of lockers, demonstrating the immense variety of the student body. Between a pinstripe-wearing blond youth with stature beyond what was immediately apparent, a domineering male student bearing a wavy purple scarf and a young woman so close to the idea of a typical gothic Lolita one could be forgiven if they thought she'd owned the entire Nabakov oeuvre out of sheer irony, among many others, it presented those within the halls of the school a sight unbecoming of the setting, one that could easily be taken for pure fiction.
And yet, it was just another day for Hope's Peak Academy.
Each year, the Hope's Peak administrative body sought out the best (though not always the brightest) in their prospective fields in the literal hopes of cultivating an optimistic atmosphere both for those who attended and for the nation at large. Their mission was to proclaim that there was always hope for the future of humanity, and their insistence on this ideal drove every action they took. Though as with many schools and their core beliefs, not every decision outwardly appeared to support it.
The exact inner workings of Hope's Peak were shrouded in mystery to the outside world, even in the information age, but enough was known for the populace of the surrounding city to question the decision-making behind signing on a member of the Kuzuryuu family as a student, and whispers of other “outlandish characters” made enough of an impact amongst several scholastic communities to sow seeds of doubt in the strength of the Academy's beliefs. How could they turn around the behaviour of a perverted fan fiction creator, let alone hold them up to be a symbol of hope for this generation?
But to those who were enjoying their time in Hope's Peak, it mattered not. The school's reputation might have seen hits on the exterior, but little to none of the rumours seeped into the halls of the Academy, the stark exterior of the front entrance a clear reminder of the dissonance in image. Inside, the front entrance was beginning to see a few students slip into the cafe for the lunch break. One of the first groups to lead the charge was that of four girls. Though it may have had an unusual size by Hope's Peak standards, and an unusual make-up by any other measure, the group had been making consistent appearances during breaks together for the entire semester. To see them be the first to make it to the lunchroom was no surprise. After all, it was just another day for Hope's Peak.
After retrieving their servings of soba from the lunch lady, the four made their way to a pristine white table towards the middle of the room, took their seats and began their usual conversation over their noodles.
“Well,” said the red-haired girl, “I can't say that was the most inspiring class we've had.”
“What do you mean?” said the girl in the striking orange kimono.
“I mean it was flat boring. No fire at all. I hate Wednesdays. Always the most static classes. Where's the fire? The passion? The--”
“Umm, okay, you don't need to drag it out. It's just maths.”
Hiyoko Saionji had received a reputation for possessing an attitude unbecoming of her stature. She was small for her age, and her lithe frame was seen as carrying a great sense of grace and character, such was her title of Ultimate Traditional Dancer. And she lived up to that title, both in and out of the academy. Hiyoko gave a grandiose but calming feeling of clarity to her movement, imbuing the greatest of meanings into the most simple of gestures. One look at her kimono's floral pattern and neat double ponytails would have you believe she spoke as she acted on the stage; with soothing serenity.
In reality, her ego was that of legend among Hope's Peak; impressive considering the very nature of the student body. Of the myriad students with short tempers, hers may have been the shortest. Certainly, it was the most sardonic. It was considered a miracle when she was able to get a single friend, much less the three sitting at the same table as her at that moment.
“'Just maths'? Come on. Maths is plenty important. Just because you can't move beyond your ten times tables,” said the red-haired girl.
Hiyoko could only stick her tongue out in response.
It was no wonder Mahiru took to maths. Hope's Peak still had to offer some general courses to disperse among all of its students, and it was one she took to with no issues. After all, as both the Ultimate Photographer and the next in the Koizumi line of famed artists, it was easy for her to see the value in using maths to measure angles, dimensions, inclines. Anything that could help her get that next perfect shot.
Her calculated attitude to her craft extended somewhat to her personality. There was a vague sense of standards in everything she said, as if weighing up every prospective response before speaking. Though she extended this same attitude towards people talking to her as well. Mahiru was by no means unkind, but did not suffer fools lightly and was quick to criticise her peers in all manners of substance. Hiyoko was about the only person to which she would mean any negative statement in mere jest, and perhaps as a result, Mahiru was close to the only person Hiyoko looked up to.
Reflecting her personality, Mahiru's appearance consisted of an olive-green school jumper with a cream-and-orange tie and simple black shoes. Hope's Peak had a free dress code but certainly didn't discourage students from showing school spirit through their aesthetic, and the deliberate look of Mahiru's garb certainly gave the impression of someone with a lot of pride. As did her hair, a neat curtain of red bearing the slightest of fringes, although her freckles stood to defenestrate this air of tidiness.
Sitting across from them, a nurse-looking girl was starting to fidget, her fingers dancing next to her soba. While the two girls across the table chatted away, and the girl seated next to her was going through her noodles as fast as she could, the nurse-looking girl was simply toying with her chopsticks in unease. It took a while before Mahiru spoke up.
“Hey, Mikan, are you not going to eat? The soba's gonna get cold, you know,” Mahiru said with a matter-of-fact expression.
“I-I'm just waiting for it to cool down,” said the girl in the nurse's apron. “I don't think th-the cafeteria served this at the ideal temperature for consumption.”
“Or maybe you're trying way too hard to hide the fact you need to lose weight,” Hiyoko snorted. Mahiru glared at Hiyoko in response, causing her to meekly apologise.
It was very easy for Mikan Tsumiki to do two things. One, it was easy for her to become obsessed with how everything, every little thing, affected the human body. As the Ultimate Nurse, it wasn't just her talent to take care of human ailments; no, she felt it was her duty. The fact she was always wearing a nurse's apron and would even sometimes attend classes with bandages and a stethoscope upon her gave a clear indication as to her dedicated to health.
Two, it was easy for Mikan to become despondent at the slightest hint of pressure. Her profession gave her an obvious streak of kindness, but she was apparently among the most fragile students at Hope's Peak. It was a vicious cycle. Her insecure psyche, causing her to cry at a moment's notice, made her an easy target, and her tendency to break down simply gave bullies more ammo to torture her with. It was a cycle she was only just starting to break, finding a consistent group of friends and developing positive elements of her self to latch on to and stand behind.
Still, she merely toyed with her chopsticks, refusing to look up at Mahiru to answer her question in a satisfactory manner.
“Hey, if you don't want to taste it, I can test to see if it's cool enough. Ibuki is the Ultimate Judge of Coolness.”
The girl next to Mikan didn't wait for a response, putting down her empty bowl and snatching Mikan's. She could scarcely bring a strand of noodle to her lips before spitting it onto the table.
“Yeowch!” the girl screamed. “It's too hot, hot damn!”
“Ibuki! Could you be any louder? Jeez. The cafeteria does not need to hear us every day,” Mahiru groaned.
Some students were clearly accepted into Hope's Peak because they would have been too strange for most schools. Some students still seemed too weird for this school famous for bringing along people with singular Ultimate talents. And some students were known as Ibuki Mioda. Among the many unique people attending the academy, Ibuki was somehow the most immediately striking. Her hairstyle, for example, was impossible to succinctly describe. Though mostly composed of flowing black hair, it also had the smallest of fringes, within which were stripes of pink and purple. She also bore two cones of hair sitting at the top of her head, surrounded with white stripes and making it impossible to tell if they were physical extensions or if her grooming skills were simply that good.
Below her hairline, her appearance shirked from shedding its outrageousness. Just below Ibuki's lips were two piercings, arranged to look like a “snake's bite”. Though her sailor uniform seemed nondescript, her mismatched arm accessories seemed intentionally designed to shock anyone with OCD. One her left, a cut-up striped glove of pink and black, and a myriad selection of rings and bracelets. On her right, a hair scrunchy as a wristband. Alongside all this, she wore asymmetrical stockings of pink and blue. Her sneakers were in line with each other, not that it was any consolation to anyone else by that point.
Even with all this, perhaps the most shocking aspect of all this was that Ibuki was attending Hope's Peak because she bore the talent of Ultimate Musician. Not even just a single instrument; apparently she was the best at crafting music, period. Though this earned her some passive chagrin amongst many students, Ibuki's personality was impossibly bubbly. Betraying her rugged and abrasive appearance, there wasn't a soul in the school Ibuki would not try to befriend or socialise with. She was bursting with energy, and desperate to share it amongst everyone. Though she was certainly easy to like, she was difficult to love.
“Sorry, Maiya-Hi Maiya-Ha! I just thought I'd test Mikan's noodles since she seemed too nervous,” Ibuki beamed.
“It's just soba. It's not a big deal even if it is a little hot,” Hiyoko said.
Mahiru's gaze returned to Ibuki, puzzled.
“Though I must say, I don't know why you waited so long to even try it, Mikan. Haven't you had cafeteria soba before? You've been going to this school for a while now, you must know how hot the soba is. We have it every Wednesday.”
Mikan simply kept looking down, fidgeting her fingers against each other in her lap, her face starting to go red and her eyes becoming puffy.
“Oh, here we go again,” Hiyoko said, rolling her eyes.
“No, I d-don't mean to cause a scene,” Mikan stuttered. “I j-just have a lot on my mind right now.” Mikan's expression was only getting more glum.
“Hey! Ibuki has an idea! You have next period free, right?” Hope's Peak might have had typical blocks of classes akin to high school, but its freeform nature was much more in line with university, especially since it was a boarding school at that; students had to stay in dormitories adjacent to the school itself over the semester.
“Yes,” Mikan sniffled, still looking at her lap.
“Wellllllll,” Ibuki pondered, “do you want to come to my next class?”
“I mean...really? W-what is it?”
“Music, of course. I'll even play you a song. You know what they say; a song a day keeps the doctor away!”
“So you don't want her to come with you, then?” Mahiru chortled. Even that lapse in logic was enough to make her chuckle.
“S-sure. It'll be nice, I think,” said Mikan. “Fourth floor, right?”
“Meee-kan, that's right!” Ibuki said with a cheer.
“Alright, I'll m-m-meet you in front of the class once lunch is over,” Mikan said as she dismounted the table bench.
“Mikan, you're not gonna eat your lunch?” Mahiru inquired, a look on concern upon her face.
“I'm going to grab a granola bar from my dorm room, I think, but thanks for asking.”
Mikan quickly took off, Mahiru barely being able to lift her hand to wave goodbye before Mikan had left the cafe. She stumbled into the pinstripe-wearing boy before very quickly apologising and taking off once more.
“Thanks, Ibuki,” said Mahiru, her face still bearing a worried frown.
“Huh? What for?”
“Mikan's always pretty despondent, but I dunno, she seemed even worse today. I think it's awesome you're trying to get her out of her room.”
“Huh? I mean, I just want to see her happy, I don't know what's up either.” Ibuki rubbed the back of her neck, parting her hair, in the process.
Hiyoko was clearly about to launch another sarcastic comment from the way she opened her mouth, but relented when observing Mahiru's concerned expression. If Mahiru was that upset about another Mikan crying session near-miss, she wasn't going to be that insensitive about it.
“I mean,” Mahiru said. “Well—I mean, she would have noticed how we noticed she was sad, I'm sure. I mean, more than usual, you know.”
“Don't worry, Ibuki gets it! Gets it like the hidden depths to Death of a Dead Day!”
“You know we don't know what that is,” Hiyoko moaned.
“I know, Ibuki.”
“See, Hiyoko? She does know what that is!”
“No, that's---” Mahiru could do no more but drive her palm into her forehead. “I know you understand what I mean.”
“Ibuki's on the case!” She said with a grin. No one could fault Ibuki for her enthusiasm and drive.
“I don't expect you to just 'get' the answer out of Mikan. But anything you can do to help,” Mahiru said with a smile.
“Of course,” Ibuki said with a smaller smile. “We're all friends, aren't we?”
Ibuki suddenly spied the clock on the far end of the room.
“Oh, shabutie! I gotta get my gear before class starts. See ya later!” Ibuki winked and waved before sprinting into the outside hall as far as her heterochromatic stockings could carry her.
“Aren't you gonna clean up your lunch?!” Hiyoko yelled. Thankfully, the lunch hour was far enough along that she wasn't raising a scene. Hiyoko grumbled as the two girls left at the table assembled the half-eaten bowls of soba, before getting up and giving them back to the lunch lady.
“Urk. I don't blame you ladies,” the lunch lady said to the girls. “I think I made it too cold today.”