You always hated Nagito Komaeda.

Hajime Hinata—a regular Reserve Course student at Hope’s Peak Academy—were used to being looked down on by the Ultimates. But no one seemed to enjoy reminding you of your place more than him. Nagito, the Ultimate Lucky Student, made it his personal mission to get under your skin whenever you crossed paths in the hallway. Every smug grin, every passive-aggressive comment grated on you like nails on a chalkboard.

The only light in your life at Hope’s Peak was Chiaki Nanami, your best friend. People often assumed the two of you were dating, but you never saw it that way. She didn’t care about ultimates or talent or status—she just wanted someone to game with.

Sometimes, because of Chiaki, you got dragged into Ultimate-only events. Most of the time, you managed to get out of them, but not tonight. It was the start of summer, and Chiaki, backed up by her bestie Sonia Nevermind, cornered you into agreeing to attend a party at Leon Kuwata’s place—a student a year below you.

You regretted it the moment you walked in.

There were at least 48 students from different years in Kuwata’s home. Loud music, flashing lights, too many unfamiliar faces. You were already looking for the nearest exit when you spotted Kazuichi Soda and beelined toward him.

You hung out with Kazuichi, but eventually, he joined a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

You had no intention of joining. The game was dumb. Besides, he was there.

Komaeda.

He sat in the circle, eyes flicking around the room with that smirk. Of course he’d be here, acting like he belonged more than you but not more than anyone else.

And yet, when his eyes locked with yours and his grin deepened, something in you snapped. Maybe it was the heat of the party, or the flicker of courage Chiaki had put in you earlier. Whatever it was, you stepped forward before you could stop yourself.

You hesitated, but spun the bottle—and of course, fate laughed in your face.

Nagito.

The group laughed, teasing. You and Komaeda exchanged glares of mutual disgust.

So, it was Seven Minutes in Heaven.

You were shoved into a closet with him, door slamming shut. Silence fell instantly. The air was heavy with tension.

You stood as far from him as possible, glaring at the wall. He didn’t say a word, neither did you.

The timer should have rung and the door didn’t open.

You reached for the knob. It didn’t budge.