Once in a millenia there comes a hero with true grace and skill to test the mettle of those who stand in their way. I, Ryouta Osamu, am that very hero. I have scaled many challenges to achieve my title, and I'm proud to bear it. So stand aside, as the Ultimate Illusionist, I shall show the world how a real knight in shining armor is meant to appear.
“Of course I play golf. It’s tranquil nature and high skill requirements are suitable for sharpening my finesse and discipline. These things do deteriorate over time, even for the elite.”
“I do hope it isn’t wasted on you. Surely you don’t play just to be ‘good at golf’.”
“I mean, I'm an avid golfer, so I suppose I understand the legitimacy of your skills.”
“At least someone else around here has some semblance of actual talent. I believe you should announce yourself with a little more confidence, however. But I confess I may be speaking out of turn.”
“Nevermind, you piteous whimpering bacteria! You are free to remain a quivering, petrified morsel at the hands of life’s many challenges. I feel more pity for whoever has to be stuck with you throughout this whole ordeal than I do for yourself.”
“I highly suggest you pull yourself together or the jaws of life really will eat you alive.”
“As for my name? Of course I have one, I suppose you should know. I am Ryouta Osamu, Ultimate Illusionist. He who brings hope and inspiration to the world with my limitless talent and finesse, utilizing my unconquerable skillset to its maximum potential at all times to fuse the realms of fantasy and reality for the whole world to bear witness to. The pleasure truly must be all yours.”
There didn’t seem to be a limit to exactly how unimpressed that Maverick did or even count look. His eyes seemed to roll back into his skull with every word that came out of the other’s mouth, and him seeming to wait for his turn to speak rather than listening for the simple fact that all he heard was the dribble of someone who needed to remove his head from his ass before opening his mouth next time.
“See, you use half a brain cell and you can work out it isn’t about the money and means. You’re a Hope’s Peak student, I’m a Hope’s Peak student. Assuming everyone here has that in common, that’s a big clue. Because it’s unlikely this is a coincidence- cause who kidnaps two dozen kids that all just happen to be students from this famous ass school- there are two reasonable options. Either we were kidnapped because of that fact or the school is involved, whether it be maliciously or pulling a bullshit prank. It’s not a hard connection to make. Of course, I guess making that connection requires oxygen getting to your brain. Which can’t easily happen with your head that far up your ass but…”
Since he began talking again, he had also begun pacing. His hands were buried in his hoodie pockets as well, but despite all the movement his eyes never left Ryouta.
“Well I guess the same thing could be said about you. I don’t remember making any assumptions; just observations based on how you carry yourself. Swallowing a thesaurus and vomiting out the words isn’t impressive, even though you actually managed to use them correctly.
“All that aside though, prestige is relative. I have it in the law enforcement and portrait drawing worlds, and I may very well one day bust the guy who stole your identity and flung you into outrageous debt, so I’d be a little nicer. Or hell, help solve your murder. Whether it be in here or out there.”
He gave a dismissive shrug before continuing.
“So call me next time you’re talented and prestigious enough to be instrumental in solving a serial murder case that spans the hunting grounds of four continents. Something a little more influential and productive than being an entertainer and doing things someone could figure out after watching them half a dozen times. Maverick Chalice, Ultimate Police Sketch Artist and instrumental part of the team that was responsible for the arrest of Gary Kane. Next time, I’d consider who you’re speaking to, instead of reverting to the inane and egotistic dribble that has been the exclusively leaking out of your oral cavity since you first opened it.”
Gary Kane, of course, was an infamous serial killer whose hunting grounds stretched from coast to coast in the United States, as well as having stints in several central and Eastern European countries, northern Africa, and Southeast and East Asia, having killed three young men and women in Japan alone. Most people who paid any attention to the news would likely know at least the name.
Ryouta didn’t seem to care about how impressed the other looked, nor did he seem to care much when he started talking. And talking. And talking. Blah, blah, blah. The only thing Ryouta did was unleash an internal sigh that was as loud as this kid was insecure.
Then, a period of silence.
“Oh, are you done talking? Thank goodness, it was becoming bothersome having to tune out such an unnecessarily long flow of pitiful assertions. I suppose you feel the need to top everyone you meet, no matter how little you know about them. I've had the displeasure of realizing your existence for less than an hour, yet somehow you can already find it in you to drone on and on and on about how 'in the clear' you are when it comes to the question of how worthless you are."
"Don't worry. You don't have to talk more than me just to show that you can. Likewise, it's just as annoying to tell people you've just seen for the first time that you know everything about them and the kind of person they are. It's honestly so irritating, I can barely wrap my head around why people your age, sometimes older, still feel the need to act this way."
"Don't you worry, because I'm using the 'smallest' words I feel I need to use with you, since you're so obviously intimidated by enhanced vocabularies. Anything different from your samey little lingo must really bring out the inner playground bully, hmm? I'm not ashamed of my intelligence. People who are jealous of me in that regard.. Well, it truly does put the bow on the pathetic gift wrap that is your hideous first impression."
"I spoke clearly, as I always do, but do say something if you need me to slow down. I know how angry your type gets around people they see as 'threats' or 'competition'. Though I am fully confident on my own greatness, I hardly need the approval of someone who dresses like a vagrant and acts like a child."
"So feel free to continue wearing your cardboard crown. Scribble as many jewels as you'd like onto it, I have no issues watching you shake your fist up at me from the bottom of the trash heap. Being so painfully ordinary truly must be an enfuriating life to live."
"As the.. Ah, jailhouse scribe, was it? Hm. Quaint. Perhaps you can draw us out of this scenario before help from the school inevitably comes to disperse the criminal organization who has captured us. No need to get so defensive about that, either. It's okay to be wrong, I know how deeply flawed all of you ingrates are, you don't have to bury it behind your annoying insecurities. I forsee our interception by organized criminals because of our affiliation with the school."
"It's pathetic that someone who takes full credit for uncovering, hm, some kind of serial killer conspiracy. Such a key player in the apprehension of, I'm sorry, who? Come to think of it, I've already forgotten your name as well. That must happen often. A sketch artist prancing about stroking their egos on how good of a boy they were riding on the back of the true detective's legwork."
"I'd love to see your accomplishments as compared beside someone who doesn't have to reach so far to pull in validation for why their talent shouldn't be overtaken by Ultimate Caricature Artists hailing from some golden circus in the sky."
"Anyway, it seems as though you have trouble communicating with people who aren't immediately submissive to you, so I'm going to go somewhere else. I have the smallest sliver of hope left that at least one of you isn't a complete waste of space. I just need to locate that very individual. Could it really be that I am the only one?"
"I do hope whoever you end up actually manipulating is able to give you the confidence you so desperately desire. Baby’s first abusive personality is fun to watch, but I hardly possess, nor am I affected by such childish things as that, nor your opinion of me or your stunted measurements of my worth."
“I know who I am, as am I familiar with the furthest reaches of my greatness. My pride is well-earned, and as a result will remain unscathed by jealous ingrates clawing at its surface, hungrily seeking the false validation that comes with damaging it.”
"Don't lose hope, because one day perhaps you too can be like me."
And then he walked forward, striding confidently in his direction, back as straight as his path as he juuuust about brushed shoulders with him as he passed. Despite the other's efforts, Ryouta was still as confident as ever with himself. As if he hadn't encountered this kind of reaction from people before? Yeah, okay.
He was probably going to forget about this interaction in about ten minutes, putting it off to the back of his mind. Things like this just didn't phase him. People acting dissinterested, deploying cheap tactics to try and make him feel ashamed of himself. He saw through it all, verbal and physical signs of people trying to use him as a stepping stone for their own egos.
Hmph, hmph. Now to get back to focusing on this mansion, right?
“Probably mostly dumb luck and grovl- oh! Oh I wasn’t supposed to answer, oh my gosh. S-Sorry.”
They cover their mouth again and bow once more.
“Umm, if you need me to do anything I’m okay with that! I’ll try to be useful, I promise~”
They’re too panicked overall to do much else than apologize and offer help. Their shaky stance has become somewhat stable as they stand upright, at attention!
Ryouta squinted. If there was anything he disliked the most, it was perpetually frightened people. Eying her up and down with red, calculating eyes, he huffed.
"For goodness sake, grow a spine, you timorous barnacle. How do you expect to get anything done if you're acting so gutless? A truly shameful display."
"Not that I care in the slightest, but who exactly are you? Does someone as pitiful as you even have a name?"
Listening to his statements made Ayame tired, he was like a l living dictionary spewing out big words and complex scentences. Ayame usually doesn’t listen to most people when they talk to her anyway so when he started using the big words Ayame lost complete intrest. She picked up most of the conversation though.
Ayame laughed “Just because you use fancy words doesn’t mean your better then me dear~” Ayame was surprised about how the creep in the cape didn’t go aggressive on her like most do when she insults them, it made her want to irritate him even more. “Ah, but you are right I’m not the smartest I certainly would say most people are very intelligent compared to me. She accepted the fact that she was dimmer then most people but it didn’t bother her she was good at math and that’s all she needed to know to design clothing. “I agree with you on my outbursts as well I am extremely bad tempered.” she was accepting most of what he said she won’t lie and say she isn’t like something, that would make her equal to scum like the creep in the cape “I am good at tantrums, very good actually. But sorry, that’s not my super high school level though it would fit me.” the best part was his comment on following the crowd that made her laugh. “Now, I don’t follow popular brands, sure I do for purses and shoes but as clothing goes. I start the brand, I’m the maker of a series of clothing worn by teenagers all over Japan~” she giggled “Now my money, I have that to spare. I can make the most amazing clothing extremely fast and all I have to do is cell them and in about a day I already have clothing sold out!” she frowns and pouts falsely. “It’s sad that they have to wait for their clothing but the more they buy the more famous I become and really that’s all I care about!~” she looked at the pale man for a while “Well as for you…I’m sure you have a decent amount of popularity I must say I do like at least two pieces in your outfit!” she was being sickeningly sweet more than she was being a bitch this time almost like you get complimented but you know they’re pitying you while complimenting you. Ayame, is an expert at doing this.
"Oh, believe me, it isn't my vocabulary that places me above you all. There are certainly several more reasons. Talent, for example. Recognition, class, tact, the list does go on."
"Though it really is something that you acknowledge your own flaws. Many of your fellow commoners don't realize how benighted they are to their own deficiencies."
"Though I remain unimpressed by you. I have my clothing situation handled quite well, and as for my vast wealth, well... I think it goes without saying."
"As for my renown and 'popularity'? Well, allow me to enlighten you. I am Ryouta Osamu, Ultimate Illusionist. I am known worldwide for my extraordinary performances, my limitless talent and my endless charm, among other things. Fusing the domains of fantasy and reality, creating an awe-inspiring show of skill and finesse, I inspire the entire world with my greatness.”
“And.. I'm nearly sorry, who are you? Yes, do continue on with.. whatever it is you do with your life, sheep. Just be sure not to exist too close to my eminence."
Ayame whipped around glaring at the creep with the cape and smirked crossing her arms. “You know it’s rude to interrupt someone higher then you while they’re talking.” her voice calmed down almost into a coo “I don’t really think you have much to say about fashion though~” she held her hands together against her rocking slightly back in forth with a soft smile. “I mean you look like you came back from a thrift shop Halloween store.” she giggled to herself “I assure you that I have all the reason to worry, you may not know this but Gucci purses are actually really expensive but, it’s alright if you didn’t know that I wouldn’t expect you too anyway~” her voice was soft but the passive aggression was obvious.
Ryouta laughed to himself, grinning while he pushed his glasses closer to his face. Holy goodness, she was annoying. At least she listened to him and quieted down. Blah, blah, blah. Everything she said was practically bouncing off of Ryouta, as all things other people said did.
"Higher than me? Hardly. I almost felt sorry for you there, not knowing who I am. Living in such ignorance must be painful. Though, I suppose being an unlettered little imp is your forte. I must say, you're certainly good at something, judging by your raucous outburst a moment ago."
"And I could care less about silly purses and bags. Owning up to such a common brand name like a sheep is hardly something to brag about squandering your questionably earned money on."
Koro turns to look up at the stern sounding man before gasping and clasping their hands over their mouth.
“MMmmmmmmMmmm, ‘m s’rry!!”
That sounds extremely muffled by their hands, which they eventually remove and hold held flat against each other before bowing low and politely while still sitting on the ground.
“I-I’m sorry!! Umm, I’m… s-sorry.”
They can’t really think of anything to say as they try and scoot out of the way and end up just kind of falling over. Shit. They get off the ground entirely on shaky legs, stumbling back like a newborn deer to place themself closer to the wall. They whisper again,
Ryouta simply stared, looming over her smugly. Talking down to her in the most condescending manner he could. He just wanted her to go away so he wouldn't have to look at this injured doe fumble about on the floor.
"Goodness, you're pathetic. Shouldn't you be making yourself useful? How have you even survived in the world up to now? Miracles? Sheer luck?"
While a little odd in behavior for a seventeen year old boy, Maverick was generally well-accepted into many a social circle, mostly because he just didn’t give a damn. He simply talked to people he found interesting or entertaining, not caring much about who they were when initiating the conversation. Now, this usually went well for him. But when it didn’t? Well, he could deal.
Listening to the stranger’s words, he stuck his tongue between his teeth for a moment before electing to speak again. His eyes widened a bit before doing so, flashing with intensity as a grin spread across his face.
“Well, I’d hate to break it to you, but… assuming we’re all Hope’s Peak students, the likelihood of it being someone else is pretty low. And if it is, it’s someone or something with ties in the school. One person doesn’t make sense; how do they orchestrate all this? And you think they’d allow someone else to snatch up their students. Yeah, the school’s too damn prestigious, huh? Then tell me who else has the power and connections to pull shit like this?”
Oh, but he wasn’t done speaking.
“And while we’re on the subject of prestige, you’re one of those people who get prestige and infamy via pretentiousness mixed up all the time, huh? Cracking a thesaurus in your spare time and just hitting exhausting and dry whilst trying and failing to be impressive? Bo-ring.”
Ryouta simply glared. Oh, wonderful. The sewer rat really could speak. It truly was unfortunate that he had to speak so much.
"You make it out to be this impressive feat. Honestly, something like this should be a simple task. Kidnappings happen all the time. Wealthy and powerful schoolhouses aren't the only entities capable of performing a mass entrapment such as this."
"If it truly is criminal involvement, I know my ransom will be paid shortly. As for the rest of you bacteria.. Hm, I'm not so sure."
"And while we're on the subject of bacteria, I assume you're the kind of imbecile to relish in assuming you know everything about everybody you don't even recognize. Bra-vo."
"It seems as though a certain commoner has something of a grudge against those more talented and fortunate that themselves. Not uncommon, but unfortunate. I do hope you overcome your personal issues soon. Prestigious may not be a word to describe someone like you, but I assure you that it is far from negative."
"Let me fill your head with something other than indecipherable garbage. I am Ryouta Osamu, the Ultimate Illusionist, and I am truly the most talented and prestigious person in this entire building. I suggest you use your rattled brain for something other than collecting dust in that spacious skull of yours, peasant, before you continue to prance about in those rags and categorize everyone like you're any special kind of cattle yourself."
Ayame stood up off the ground as soon as she woke up there was no way in hell she was going to get this outfit dirty, she saw the other students slowly get up. She hated all of them by first glance she was disgusted by most of their appearances and had no plan on ever talking to them. Then she realized her stuff was gone she grit her teeth about to punch someone but then she heard a voice from behind her.
She turned around facing a black and white twelve year old boy dressed in a pretty decent suit for a twelve year old. He began giving a speech about having to live with all the students and something about killing, Ayame really wasn’t paying much attention to the speech.
She was quiet and then gave a cocky yet clearly nervous grin and laughed to herself and put her hands on her hips and slightly swayed. “You have got to be fUCKING KIDDING ME!” she was pissed and her voice roared, it probably could be heard from almost anywhere on the first floor. “YOU HAVE TO BE JOKING THERE IS NO GOD DAMN WAY AM I TAKING ORDERS FROM A FUCKING TWELVE YEAR OLD TO LIVE WITH THESE FUCKERS?!” she points and stares at all the students behind her and quickly whips back around to Monoko. “HALF OF THESE LOW LIVE’S CLOTHING CHOICES ARE SO BAD THEY HAVE TO BE FUCKING COLOR BLIND!” she kept making herself more and more angry with every word she spewed out. “ALSO WHERE THE HELL IS MY STUFF, I CAN FUCKING PROMISE YOU THAT MY PURSE COST MORE THAN ONE OF THESE FUCKERS ENTIRE GOD DAMN OUTFIT!” It was hard to tell who she was mad at anymore, Monoko or the students she hasn’t even talked to yet. “GUCCI PURSES ARE FUCKING EXPENSIVE YOU CAN’T GET QUALITY STUFF LIKE THAT AT A EVERYDAY CLOTHING SHOP Y’KNOW!” it was really weird she completely ignored the entire killing part. “AND LIVING HERE WOULD MEAN BEING INACTIVE OUTSIDE OF HERE MEANING NO GOD DAMN FAME NO FORTUNE NO FUCKING POPULARITY!” her face was almost entirely red and her voiced didn’t even show signs of getting sore. “SO IF YOU FUCKING THINK THAT I’M GOING TO JUST LET THIS KINDA SHIT HAPPEN THEN YOU’VE THOUGHT WRONG BECAUSE I AM NOT DEALING WITH PEOPLE LIKE THESE DIP SHITS AND LIVING IN A PLACE WHERE I KNOW MY GUCCI FUCKING PURSE I PROBABLY STOLEN!” she was not taking shit from anyone. Her breathing was heavy and she wanted a response now, she wasn’t going to let the twelve year old control what she does.
Ryouta witnessed this atrociously loud female spewing all sorts of irritating noise. It honestly made his head hurt. Sighing to himself, he crossed his arms, side-eying her as he spoke up.
"Pipe down, cretin. Your bland fashion sense is hardly anything to get worked up about, let alone notice in the first place. You're giving me a headache with all of your commotion polluting my eardrums."
The timid golfer has been panicking since they woke up, a steady level of anxiety building up in them. Mutual killing? So many people are here. Forever? How did they even get here! Who’s that kid? What’s going on!
“Oooooh nooooo, oh my gosh. This is so scary, mmmm… I don’t wanna be here, aaaaaaaaaaaaa-”
Koro’s monotone, soft shout (can it even be called that? it’s hardly more audible than a whisper) continues on for a solid few minutes as they just curl up on the ground where they had been sitting. They peek up at everyone past their hands before quietly crawling away from the group. Bye. After getting a decent distance from the group, they just sit on the ground quietly “aaaaa”ing.
Ryouta just so happened upon this sorry scene during his personal investigation of the area. What on earth was this. Really, now. She was laying on the floor like a filthy animal, and what's more is that she was in his way. If he'd truly kept away from everybody he wouldn't get much of any real investigating done, would he?
Ryouta walked up to.. This. Standing up straight and looking down on her as she lay on the floor, he spoke down to her, condescending and flat.
"What on earth are you doing? Lying on the floor like a stray dog? And please, please just stop making that annoying sound."
"Hmph. You truly are a mess. I implore you to remove yourself from my sight. Go quiver in fear elsewhere so that I may continue to slake my curiosities regarding this filthy establishment."
Maverick listened with uncertainty as the stranger and black and white spoke, turning over each word carefully in his mind and trying to comprehend what exactly was going on. As this went on, he stood stock still and stared at the odd person in front of him, not moving an inch while the small crowd likely shifted here and there around him.
He didn’t mind the people; he really didn’t. There wasn’t a familiar face in sight, of course; that was just his luck that none of those he knew would be among these. However, that wasn’t something that was difficult to fix.
When the speech was over, he went to reflexively check his wrist for the lead that was so often looped around it before remembering. Japan’s quarantine for imported animals wouldn’t let him have Crosby yet. That was certainly unfortunate.
Tucking the strange card- what appeared to be an ID- into his jeans pocket, he let his mind flow back into his intended action before he was distracted by the lack of his faithful canine companion: meeting people. And so, without skipping a beat, he placed himself within the line of sight of one of the nearest stranger and… simply started talking. Someone was doing his best to skip the awkward.
“So, how much money you wanna bet this fuckin’ school’s pulling something on us? Their rep’s so polished, there’s gotta be something weird about this place.”
Look at this idiot. How could anyone dress like that? From the hair to the shoes, this child truly was a mess. The personality was equally annoying. Just coming right up to someone like that and talking like he knew them. Please.
Ryouta pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, speaking bluntly to this clearly homeless and unfortunate child.
"I don't need to waste my precious brain cells contemplating something as laughably absurd as this. The sooner this 'prankster' realizes the cringeworthy error of their ways I'm going to erase this waste of my valuable time from my memory completely."
"The academy is hardly to blame. Such a prestigious and upstanding educational center is beyond such puerile stunts."
Ryouta awoke on the dusty old carpet with the worst headache imaginable. He looked around the room at all of the others forced into the same position and heard the kid in the center out, to an extent, before scooping himself up off the ground, picking his glasses up off the floor and putting them back on his face.
Smoothing out his coat, he tuned the child out and examined his surroundings. They were elegant, if not antiquated. The chandelier was a nice touch, but Ryouta was not impressed. The main issues with the elegant design was the dust, the filth, the oppressive atmosphere, and the sniveling peasants that were packed into the room with him.
Ugh.
When the child finished talking, Ryouta simply stared with the same bored expression he typically did when exposed to farcical nonsense. Kill each other to get out? Right, good luck getting anyone with an even remotely stable brain to go through with that.
Ryouta simply stuck his nose up in the air and turned heel. If the doors truly were locked, and all escapes barred, then it would do him no good to go and dirty his hands on the knobs of locked exits. He saw it to be a fit time to explore a bit.
Avoiding everyone else intentionally, he walked about with confidence, a smug aura coming from him as he did so.
Ugh. All of these disgusting idiots. Just look at them.
It seems his guard is down for the time being, however. As he looks onto the others with the same, if not a worse disdain than he had with the actual place they were trapped in, he doesn't immediately notice you coming up to him.
