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magioftheseas · 5 years

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Day 1 - Reserve

Written for @the-hinata-project

Prompt: Reserve Course Student Hinata

Rating: G

Warnings: Lowkey manipulation and insecurity, but other than that, not much.

Notes: Alright, so I’m still in the middle of these, but like... Here’s the first one! They’re all going to be pretty short, around 2K but I’m gonna do my best to finish all of them so wish me luck...! And this first fic is gen. No ships. Next ones won’t be so gen. It’s also pre-HPA. Kind of.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

The last wish he made on New Year’s was a simple one.

I want to get into Hope’s Peak.

But of course that would never happen.

“Can’t you dream more realistically, Hajime? Do you have any idea how expensive Hope’s Peak actually is? We can’t afford that.”

“I... I know that, but...”

“If you know then why are you burdening us with this? Please. Just think about other people besides yourself for once.”

“...sorry.”

His mother sighs, but ruffles his hair in a show of affection.

“You current high school isn’t so bad, right? You can make good friends here, and it’s a fine school.”

“I guess it’s...decent,” he mumbles.

“Just don’t even worry about Hope’s Peak anymore,” she tells him. “It’s impossible, and it can’t be helped. Keep your chin up. Okay?”

“...fine...”

Because he knew, after all, that she had a point. They couldn’t afford it. And he wasn’t talented. It was a pipe dream to attend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Still...

For his birthday, he was given a new laptop to replace the old. It was a fairly recent model. Pretty expensive. Likely compensation. He can’t say he didn’t like it.

He wasn’t ungrateful. He doesn’t think so.

It’s just that I admire Hope’s Peak more than anything.

So much so that he finds himself on the forums first thing.

>Does anyone have any idea who’s going to be in the upcoming batch?

>They haven’t finished scouting, right? Oh, but I just saw on the news that an actual princess was accepted! Hope’s Peak really can get in anyone!

>Wow, actual royalty?!

>There’s this photographer I follow. She’s getting in, too, I’m pretty sure.

>I just saw Saionji Hiyoko-san’s performance last week. I’m positive she’s getting in.

>I’m more interested in the princess. Can you imagine how lucky it would be to meet an actual princess?

>>They’ll be running the lottery in a month or so. What I would give to have more of a chance...

>Wow, they’re doing that again?

>With how much getting into the reserve course costs, you probably have a better chance with the lottery...

>But if you win the lottery, you’re actually considered talented. Reserves are just...y’know, reserves.

>But you’ll get to meet the princess, potentially. I think the money’s worth it, even if all I can do is steal a glance!

>Still... Seems so lame that you can just pay your way in...

>But brand name recognition is pretty powerful...

>>I heard you can actually get into the main course from the reserve course if you do well enough.

>No way! That’s a pipe dream! Maybe if you paid like, twice as much!

>Must be nice to be rich, huh...

Hinata stares, wondering what to type, but also letting the thoughts swirl around in his head.

>>I would do anything to get into Hope’s Peak. But my family just can’t afford that.

>Yeah, mine neither. Who actually can?

>You’d be surprised... They’re getting a lot of enrollments.

>You can’t like...get a scholarship or anything? It’s not like you need to go to college after attending Hope’s Peak.

>Well the golden gates can’t open that wide, I suppose...

>It’s for the best. If just about anyone could get in, it wouldn’t be that special.

Hinata bites his lip, picking at the peeling skin with his teeth.

>>Still. I want to get in more than anything.

>If you aren’t talented, it can’t be helped.

>>I would give anything.

>Pffft. No kidding. I’d give an arm and a leg, probably.

>>I would give anything.

>A lot of people would.

>You’re like a super fan, huh. Well, I am, too, but still...

>>Getting into Hope’s Peak has always been my dream.

>Everyone wants to be special, man.

>But if everyone was special then no one would be special.

>It can’t be helped. You’re either born talented or you aren’t.

>Right?! I must have spent hours drawing but there was always that one person I could just never compare to. It’s hopeless!

>You shouldn’t say hopeless on the Hope’s Peak forums!

>Haha, sorry!

>>I’ve never been talented. There’s not one thing I’m particularly good at.

>Normie...

>>But I want to get into Hope’s Peak Academy... More than anything.

>Give it up. For your own good. Wishing for the impossible isn’t healthy.

>Hey, don’t tell him that! What if he ends up winning the lottery?

>Yeah, right!

>>I’m not particularly lucky, either.

>Luck’s not a talent anyway.

>Are you sure? I’ve known people who get ridiculously lucky while gambling...

>If they gamble too much, that luck’s bound to run out. And I bet they’re not that lucky, they just brag a lot.

>That might be true... Still it would be nice just to get into Hope’s Peak by chance...

>Whoever wins that lottery probably is ridiculously lucky considering how many people are participating. We’re talking like, every high school student in their first year in the country.

>Sucks to be other countries, huh.

>Maybe someday but for now, I like not having that much competition.

>Still a ridiculous amount competing...

>I bet it’ll be someone who can afford the reserve course if they haven’t already enrolled.

>No fair! That kind of thing should disqualify you immediately!

>>I just...want to get in...

>Yeah we all do. But it’s impossible.

>Impossible.

>Totally impossible.

>Pigs will fly first.

>I heard some Ultimates actually can make some crazy shit. We might see flying pigs pretty soon.

>That’s terrifying.

>>I just want to get in.

>You should get offline.

He should. He really, really should.

Is it really impossible?

“Of course it is,” he can practically hear them murmur. “Not only are you untalented, you can’t afford it! And you’re going to win the lottery, either!”

Hinata buries his face into his hands, shuddering.

I just... I just...

To his surprise, he later receives a DM. Shivering, he clicks it open.

>Would you really do anything for Hope’s Peak?

He doesn’t recognize the name of the sender but...it looks official.

>>Yes. Of course. Why?

>There actually is a program you can sign up for that will get you in without having to pay a coin.

Hinata blinked once. Twice.

It’s way too good to be true.

But he’s desperate. Beyond desperate.

>>What is this program? How can I sign up?

>Here’s the information.

What he’s about to do is how people get themselves abducted, he’s pretty sure. But right now, he’s desperate and... If it really was someone associated with Hope’s Peak, how bad can it be? What’s the worse than can happen?

I already have no chance getting in. I know that... But...

His heart was pounding as he took the train. He stared out the window, at HPA’s towering buildings in the distance, getting closer and closer, and he sucks in his breath.

It’s so shining that it hurts to look at.

Shining like a dream...

“Ah, Hinata-kun, you made it after all. So you have the necessary information?”

“Uh... Yes...” Truth be told, he didn’t understand most of it. There were a lot of words that were hard to read and pretty...advanced. “I just...well you said you couldn’t explain everything in just files, so...”

The other looked pretty professional. Sharply dressed and smiling in a way that at least seemed pretty welcoming. But...still pretty intimidating, considering the circumstances. Hinata ducked his head, feeling rather flustered.

“Yes, it’s meant to be kept very tightly under wraps, you see,” they laugh. “I need to assure confidentiality before explaining, Hinata-kun. Surely you understand.”

That’s...weird.

But it made his blood thrum with excitement to be a part of.

“I... Y-Yes, of course. Absolutely... Of course...”

“Sign this form, then, promising that.”

“O-Of course...!”

He scribbles down his signature without a second thought. The other smiled more, pleased. Hinata squirmed in his seat, and tried to keep his posture straight.

With that, the other sat across from him, polite and yet...expectant.

Ah... Hah...

“So you’re willing to do anything for this school,” they say, voice almost light but also dense with significance. “Might I ask why?”

“It’s...as I said on the forums,” Hinata mumbles, fiddling with his tie. Even dressed professionally for this would-be interview, he feels underdressed. “I’ve always admired this school. Always. It’s always been my dream to...to go there...”

The other nods, expression unchanged.

“And why do you wish so badly to go there, despite not having a talent that can be cultivated?”

Hinata flinched.

“T-That’s...! I...” He hesitates, but he soon finds the words just spilling out. “I just want to be someone I can be proud of. Someone who can stand tall. Be confident. Be significant. Isn’t that what I deserve?”

“Isn’t that what everyone deserves?”

Hinata’s nails dig into his palms.

“I admire Hope’s Peak...more than anyone. I will give whatever I can...and then more than that...if I have to.” His teeth grit. “Whatever it takes... W-Whatever it takes...!”

Even though I know it’s selfish and impossible, I just...!

He just wanted to be someone. Someone other than...this.

Unimportant. Unremarkable. A faceless, meaningless part of the mass. The idea of being consumed by mediocrity and insignificance for the rest of his life, never to matter, never to even be remembered, just to disappear, just like he never even existed—

“I’ll do...w-whatever...it takes...” He’s shaking, eyes wide and crazed. “Whatever it takes... Whatever I can...and then more than that...if I have to.”

“Ah. I see.” An easy smile. And yet, the atmosphere felt so heavy that it was near suffocating. “Very well then, Hinata-kun. That’s exactly the kind of attitude we’re looking for.”

Hinata lit up.

“R-Really?” He dares to let hope slip into his tone. “D-Do you really mean it?”

A nod.

“Hinata-kun... If you could be reborn from the faceless body of a miserable nobody into the world’s hope... Would you?”

“That...sounds too good to be true...” His heart really was racing, but he was flushed with excitement. “But... Y-Yeah... I... Of course...”

“Then, allow me to tell you about how that can be possible. If you agree, you’ll be accepted into the school, free of charge, no talent necessary. In fact, it’s even essential that you be talentless.”

I...don’t understand.

He doesn’t understand but it just sounds so incredible that he can’t help but be swayed.

“...tell me.”

“Very well.”

A folder of files is placed before him. They look too important to grasp. And the stamped out letters of CONFIDENTIAL stare back into his wide-eyed, shimmering gaze.

Fingers trembling, Hinata actually slices his finger open as he flips it open.

He doesn’t even feel the sting, as engrossed as he is in the text.

“I...”

The words swirl around in his head, over and over until he drowns in them.

“Do you need time to think about it?” the other asks him kindly. So kindly that Hinata is struck cold. “Tell you what... You can still get into the reserve course. You don’t have to say yes right away, and the deadline will be in a few months from now. You can attend classes here until then...and then make your decision on whether or not you’re willing to stay. Okay?”

“I... O-Okay.” Hinata swallows. “That’s... I’m okay with that.”

I said I’d do anything. And I do...want to do anything. But...

His hands are shaking while still gripping the files.

I can’t...let this chance slip by...even if it’s something like this. This is everything I ever wanted. Why am I even hesitating?

“It’s alright,” the other says reassuringly, taking the files away with ease. “Hinata-kun, I know you’ll make the best decision for yourself.”

For...myself. Myself...

“I...yes.”

“I’ll have them send in your acceptance letter and uniform.” His hand is shook, the grip warm and calloused. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Hinata-kun.”

“A-A pleasure... Yeah.”

Just like that, Hinata was stumbling out of Hope’s Peak, trembling and falling to pieces with every shaky step.

I have to do it, he can’t help but think. I have to do it, for...for myself...

This was going to be the year his life changed irreparably. He was sure of it.

#thehinataproject #hajime hinata #hinata hajime #Magi fics #the hinata project #although it's not going to show up #I might as well #I'll probably have to message someone anyway #The tragedy of being muted

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adambstingus · 6 years

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Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172357360662

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samanthasroberts · 6 years