Chapter 1: Awakening in Hope's Peak
The transition from life to death was supposed to be a finality, a quiet closing of a book. Instead, it felt like being pulled through a straw. My last memory was the screech of rubber on asphalt, the choking smell of ozone, and the blinding, predatory glare of high beams. Then, there was nothing but a heavy, pressurized silence that tasted like copper.
When my eyes finally opened, the world refused to make sense.
I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't in the afterlife. I was face-down on a wooden desk that smelled of stale wax and industrial-grade cleaner. My head throbbed with a rhythmic, pulsing heat that made the edges of my vision blur into static. As I sat up, the first thing I noticed was the silence. It was an artificial, suffocating kind of quiet, the sort you only find in a tomb or a vacuum.
I looked around the room. It was a classroom, but it felt like a hallucination of one. The windows were the most jarring part. Instead of glass looking out onto a campus, they were smothered by massive, bolted iron plates. Heavy rivets held them in place, looking more like the hull of a battleship than a place of learning.
My hands were shaking. I looked down at them and realized I was wearing a uniform I didn't recognize. A sharp, dark blazer with a crest on the pocket. Inside the lining, a name was stitched in neat, white thread: Akihiko Fudo.
Memories that weren't mine began to bleed into my consciousness like ink dropped in water. I knew this place. I knew the symbols. I knew the tragedy that was about to unfold. This was Hope's Peak Academy. And somehow, through some cruel cosmic joke, I Akihiko had been inserted into the narrative.
In my past life, I was a nobody. In this one, I had a title. The Ultimate Unlucky Student.
It wasn't just a label; it was a physical law. As I stood up, the simple act of shifting my weight caused the bolt holding the desk to the floor to snap with a violent, metallic crack. The desk tilted instantly, sending a pencil rolling off the edge. As I reached to catch it, my foot slipped on a patch of floor that shouldn't have been slippery, and I went down hard.
The pain in my knee was sharp and real. That was the moment I realized this wasn't a dream. This was a second chance at life, wrapped inside a death sentence.
I gathered my dignity and hobbled toward the door. Each step felt like a gamble with the universe. My luck was a strange, inverted thing. Disasters happened around me constantly. Lights flickered and popped as I passed. Door handles jammed. But somehow, I always walked away from the wreckage while others bore the brunt. I was a walking lightning rod that never actually got burned, while everyone else felt the shock.
The hallways were a dizzying maze of purple and gold. I followed the sound of distant voices, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I turned a corner and found myself in the main hall.
Sixteen people were already there.
The air in the room was thick with tension, a palpable layer of dread that seemed to coat the back of my throat. These were the Ultimates. The best of the best. To anyone else, they were icons of talent. To me, they were a list of future victims.
My eyes scanned the room, landing on the various faces. There was the brooding heir, the loud-mouthed biker, the stoic gambler. But my gaze stopped when I saw a small figure standing near a pillar, looking overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the room.
Chihiro Fujisaki.
She looked even more delicate than the screen had ever portrayed. She was fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, her eyes downcast as if trying to shrink into the floorboards. In a room full of oversized personalities, she was a quiet, flickering candle in a hurricane.
I took a step toward the center of the hall, but my luck decided to introduce itself to the class. My heel caught on a slightly raised floorboard a one-in-a-million manufacturing defect. I lunged forward, losing my balance completely.
I expected to hit the marble. I expected the laughter of the others.
Instead, I felt a soft, steady pressure against my shoulders. Someone had moved with surprising speed to catch me.
"Oh! Be careful," a soft, melodious voice whispered.
I looked up. Chihiro was holding onto my arms, her face flushed with the effort of bracing my weight. For a second, our eyes locked. Her hazel eyes weren't filled with the judgment I expected. They were filled with genuine, heartfelt concern.
"I'm sorry," I stammered, quickly finding my footing. "I'm... I'm a bit of a disaster. You shouldn't have bothered. You might have gotten hurt just being near me."
Chihiro let out a tiny, nervous breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's not true. I saw you falling... I couldn't just watch. Are you hurt? Your knee is bleeding a little."
She pointed to the tear in my trousers from the classroom fall. I looked down, then back at her. No one had ever looked at me with that much kindness after I'd made a fool of myself. In my old life, I was the boy people stayed away from to avoid the "contagion" of my misfortune.
"It's nothing," I said, my voice softening. "I'm used to it. My name is Akihiko Fudo. But... well, I'm the Ultimate Unlucky Student. It's a pleasure to meet you, Chihiro."
Her eyes widened slightly. "You know my name?"
I froze. I had forgotten that in this world, we were strangers. "I... I saw it on the student list. Back in the classroom," I lied quickly, my heart skipping a beat.
She smiled then, and for a moment, the heavy atmosphere of the boarded-up school seemed to vanish. It was a small, fragile smile, but it felt like the only real thing in a world built of lies.
"I'm glad you're okay, Akihiko-kun," she said. "It's a scary place, isn't it? But maybe if we stay together, the bad luck won't be so bad."
I wanted to warn her. I wanted to tell her that staying near me was the most dangerous thing she could do. I wanted to tell her that I knew exactly what happened to people like her in stories like this. But as the monitors on the wall suddenly hissed to life with a high-pitched cackle, I felt a different resolve take root.
The screen showed a black-and-white bear, its red eye glowing with a malicious, digital light. The killing game was about to begin.
I looked at Chihiro, who had instinctively moved closer to me as the bear began to speak. I reached out, my hand trembling, and lightly touched her shoulder.
I had been reborn into a nightmare. I was Akihiko Fudo, a boy cursed with misfortune. But as the Unlucky Student, I realized I had one advantage: I knew how the tragedy ended. And if I had to use every ounce of my twisted luck to rewrite her ending, I would.
The game was starting, but I wasn't going to play by the rules.
By the way Chihiro is a girl in this also 18😐she looks a little older