[center][h1][color=white][u]P r o l o g u e[/u][/color][/h1][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]  • Ishin Academy, Sapporo (Japan) •
[sub][b]April 7th -- Opening Ceremony[/b][/sub] [/center][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
The auditorium of Ishin Academy seemed impossibly large for the more astute and traditional building it was encompassed by. Hundreds of students sat in metal folding chairs, all wearing the simple dark colors of Ishin Academy, black, gray and dark blue. The third year students sat in the back of the rows, the second years in the middle, and the first years, the newest students in the academy, sat in the front rows of the school. On the stage sat many of the instructors at the school, all decked out in their hero gear. Snowman wore a bright white coat, his goggles placed over his eyes, picking at his black and gray beard as he seemed to be watching the newest students. Knightmare sat next to him, her large armor suit making her look like a giant around the others. Talking Head was busy chatting with another instructor. The room was in a dull roar as students met one another, talked about their vacations and all sorts of things that high school students do at big student assemblies like these. 
[h3]“Attention!”[/h3]
A booming voice came from the stage. One of the teachers was standing up in a military fashion. His sudden yelling brought the entire auditorium to a chilling silence. Loud footfalls filled the room. A small elderly man walked to the podium. He was roughly four foot nine. The military looking teacher pulled a small wooden stool for the man to stand on, bowed deeply, and walked away. 

“Well…” the old man said, his voice surprisingly deep for such an old man. “So many fresh, young faces here today. Bright, full of hope and excitement.” His kindly face contorted into something violent and sinister. “Those days of sunshine and hope end [b][i]now.[/i][/b]”

The teachers behind him all suddenly stood up at attention. “Ishin Academy is world renowned. Top heroes graduate from our academy every year. We do this with discipline, with rigor, and without compromise. Our school is not for the weak. Our school is not for those who think the path to a hero is easy.” 

The old man began to float above the podium, his arms crossed. Without the microphone, his voice still had cadence to reach the ears of every student. “In this school you will either become a true hero or you will be crushed. If you cannot handle this academy, you do not deserve to be a hero!” 

It felt like ice in the first year section. Some students would grin with anticipation, as this was a chance to show out, to become a [i]real[/i] hero. Others would grimace, suddenly feeling like a target was planted squarely on their backs. “Look around you. Chances are, one in three will graduate this school. Make your peace with each other and realize: these are not your friends. They are your competition. They stand between you and your dreams. [i]Defeat them, or die.[/i]” The old man would return to his podium and walk back to the chairs, sitting down. The other staff followed suit. Over time, student council representatives explained the rules, went over everyday operations and other simple routines in a Japanese school. But the principal’s message kept the atmosphere cold. Finally, it was time to head to the classroom designated as each individual student’s homeroom assignments?. And so, the students of class 1-A filed out among the rest of the school and toward their newfound destiny.