"Finish 100,001 haikus," Mononeko had said to me regarding the repercussions of my act of fratricide. "That's your punishment. Not so bad, eh, Fleuret? Almost everything's provided– You just need to bring your own ink."
Lines? A standard detention-type punishment? Against my better judgment, I could feel a sense of hope welling up inside. Not the type of punishment I was expecting. Maybe a public execution or something, but not this.
However, it was only after I numbly stared at the rapier, the thick scroll of paper, the empty ink pot, and the fountain pen laid out carefully in front of me that everything became clear. "...Bring your own ink," Mononeko's words echoed through my mind. As if pulled by fate, I could feel my hand being almost mechanically drawn to my late brother's rapier.
I rolled up my sleeves and grimaced in anticipation of what I was about to do.
One... Two... Three.
I winced in pain at the gash across my wrist and was thankful to see a small stream of blood trickle out of the wound. I carefully unscrewed the ink pot and placed it below the stream, careful not to waste a drop, yet I only managed to get in a small fraction of the pot full before the stream already began to dry.
I guess that'll do for now, I thought grimly as I dipped the nib of the fountain pen into the scarlet liquid, before starting.
"Haiku 1.
In every case,
The pen conquers the sword, and–"
The pen's nib suddenly stopped, leaving a blot of blood next to it. I frowned as I stared at the now-smudged, rather messy start to my final anthology. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
I moved to dip the pen back into the pot before pausing in horror. It's already dry?! It needs more ink already? In fury, I snatched the rapier from where it lay and held it to another section of my arm, letting it conduct its duty as it ran smoothly through my flesh. I gasped in pain, this injury somehow felt worse than the first, but I couldn't waste any more time. I quickly put the pot to the wound, letting the blood trickle in, and even encouraging its flow with a squeeze of the gash. I clutched the wound, before dipping the pen back into the pot and continuing.
"I'm sorry for it."
Haiku 1, done, I thought miserably as I stared at the two gashes in my arm.
Despite the pain I could already feel from a mere two injuries, I continued on, cycling from pen, sword, and ink pot.
"Haiku 32.
The sharpest blade knows
Not the consequences of
Blind, deaf loyalty."
"Haiku 109.
Which one is colder?
The trigger's cool, stern steel, or
The heart that fired it?"
By this point, my shirt had become completely scarlet with the amount of cuts I'd sustained. Not even one percent of the way there, I realized with dread as I stared in horror at my stinging, bleeding arms and rips in my clothes.
"Haiku 409.
Our shimmering gem,
"Smooth" on the lips and the tongue,
Like her melody."
"Haiku 731.
Enveloped in red,
YOU ARE READING
Project Arc: an Original Fanganronpa
Mystery / ThrillerConstanze Beauregard, known as Beau, is the Ultimate Detective Novelist. After waking up in an unfamiliar mansion to the promise of a killing game, she finds herself in what seems to be a plot that she could've very well written herself.
