The room was dark to begin with. Katsurou was bathed in pitch-black, unable to see or be seen. Then came the lights, bright spotlights shining down on him. He was perched on a stage, torso and legs tied to a chair that was fastened to the floor. In front of him was a desk with a pen and his familiar songbook, turned to a page that was empty. Seconds seemed to tick by and beads of sweat dripped down his face as he awaited whatever cruel fate was in store for him.
There eventually came a whirring noise as two large speakers lowered from the ceiling, one placed on each side of him. A faint melody began to play from the speakers, and Katsurou realized what was wanted from him. He should have expected that his demise would be some form of dig at his talent, so he set to work writing lyrics to go along with the composition being played.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
His hard gaze was fixed upon the notepad as his pen scratched away at the paper, the lyrics quickly filling the sheet. He didnāt know what to expect, as there was no way this would remain peaceful for very long. Actually, it began very subtly, he almost didnāt catch it. But after a moment, he began to realize just what was up with what he was being put through. The volume was slowly, but very surely increasing. Despite the knowledge of how his demise would go, he kept going with a stony expression.
However, Katsurou quickly tired of the pointless exercise. He lifted his pen, and with a sigh of resignation, didnāt place it back down onto the paper. He very quickly learned that there would be no deviation from what was desired of him though. Just a moment after he stopped writing, he was struck by blinding pain, letting out a surprised yell of pure pain. Trembling, he glanced over and saw a bloodied spear jutting out of his left shoulder. He needed no further encouragement to continue writing.
Doing his best to ignore the pain from his shoulder, the pen set back to work and he continued to craft the words that fit the instrumentals being played for him. By this point, the music was beginning to get rather loud and he was internally cursing everything for this being so long and drawn out. But then again, he felt like he was getting just what he deserved. He shifted in his seat, accidentally bumping the spear against his seat and feeling a new burst of pain. With a cry, his writing fumbled and he stopped once more.
A slew of obscenities poured out of his mouth as yet another spear entered his body, this time stabbing right through his broken hand and pinning it to the desk. Tears were stinging his eyes and it took everything he had to continue writing, but Katsurou somehow managed it. He continued to write, but his hand was visibly shaking as he wrote and he was letting out the occasional whine as the fidgeting sent more flashes of pain through him. And just when he thought it wasnāt going to get any worse, his trembling got bad enough to the point where he dropped his pen.
The writing utensil clacked uselessly onto the floor and his eyes widened in fear, making a desperate grab for it. However, it was too late, as heād already stopped writing. As he struggled to reach it to pick it back up, a spear was drove directly into his back which tore a loud grunt from his throat. He felt his fingers brushing against the body of the pen as a spear was drove through his foot and into the stage. By the time he was sitting back up and could continue writing, he had been stabbed in his right side as well.
On top of all the added metal rods in his body, the music was beginning to reach deafening volumes. He was being assaulted with a massive headache, but somehow the bloodied Katsurou mustered up the will to keep writing. He was trembling violently at this point, knuckles white as he gripped the pen so he didnāt drop it again. He was aching, feeling pain practically everywhere, and the awfully loud soundtrack wasnāt helping him any. The red-haired boy forced himself to keep going despite it all, even though his ears had begun to bleed.
At this point he was just guessing what the music sounded like as his hearing was failing him. Katsurouās head was swimming and he was beginning to get to a point where he didnāt know if he could keep it up for much longer. He was reaching his limits and the volume only rose more. The pen faltered and he was assaulted with a new barrage of spears, but Katsurou could no longer do anything to prevent them. Spear after spear entered his body, blood continued to pool from his ears and eventually he slumped forward, facedown on the desk. Blood stained the desktop, the songbook no longer even legible due to the sticky liquid. As if to mock him even more, one final spear was driven through his corpse, his head now pinned to the desk.
Katsurou Mikazuki, the Super High School Level Songwriter, has been executed.
