Chapter Text
I'm not dumb, and if I was, I wouldn't be standing here.
Here, where the large school can be seen from miles and miles away, its millions of windows letting in enough sunlight to grow the smallest seed.
I've spent years going in and out of this building, each room forever implanted in my memory. However, I have only just now begun my time as a student here. Most of the time, students of Hope's Peak Academy are scouted by the administrators and placed into these boxes called "ultimate talents". It is in this school that they are trained to become the Hope of the World and are basically set for life. The top athletes, artists, and even fast food workers have all at least had interactions with HPA.
It's no doubt that these talented children are amazing at what they do, but they'll never be one of us.
And who are we? Why, the supreme beings, of course. I don't say that to be rude or egotistic by any means! We just are! Our lineage spans beyond the limits of Earth, and I am a product that has came out of millions of years of my people multiplying with one another. It is because of this that I have become known as a /////////, a dying species in our world.
Hope's Peak is known for looking for us, failing, and settling for someone ["an ultimate"] who can look and act the part, but my family saw the benefits of the system for us very early in our lives. That's how I ended up becoming a part of Hope's Peak at the ripe age of 2.
My name is Akane Owari. It means "red end". Maybe that'll be how I destroy the world. Starting today, I will be known as the "Ultimate Gymnast", a phony title that is only half true; I can definitely move my body, but "ultimate" feels a bit much. Throughout my time at Hope's Peak Academy, I intend to expand my influence and intellect.
I will successfully get the hell out of here.
For now though, it's time to continue my daily life as a prisoner of Hope's Peak.
I hold on tight to my messenger bag, dust off my uniform skirt, its pleats grazing my fingertips, and head into my next 3 years.
I hold on tight to my messenger bag, dust off my uniform skirt, its pleats grazing my fingertips, and head into my next 3 years.
I hold on tight to my messenger bag, dust off my uniform skirt, its pleats grazing my fingertips, and head into my next 3 years.
I lhdo no thtgi ot ym sesrmegen abg, stdu ffo ym ufrinmo skrti, tsi lteasp zringag ym nfirseigtp, dna edah ntio ym txne 3 aysre.
