Chapter 1: The Fantastic Story of something something monokuma

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Wattpad only allows titles to be so long, but the actual title is The Fantastic Story Of How Monika And Fukawa Team Up To Uncover The Mystery Behind The Seemingly Unsolvable Locked-Room Monokuma Murder Case. Don't sleep on this.

Chapter 1 – A cold drink during winter

Monday 11th, April, 1947. 

As the rain hit my window with the strength of an overzealous ex-lover, I faced a struggle of my own. I had both my index fingers trapped in one of those freaking Chinese finger traps.

Monika: Jesus, who designed these things? Whatever, I give up. Deleted.

And just like that, the toy disappeared from existence, never to be seen again. That is a win in my book.

Touko: The first paragraph is barely over and you're already making a fool of yourself.

Those words pierced my heart not unlike cold steel daggers as Fukawa Touko made her entrance into the Monika Private Investigation office. The woman, an accomplished mystery and romance writer who doubled as an undercover club singer during the nights.

Touko: Huh? Why are you the one narrating the story? I'm the writer here!

Monika: Your tongue is as sharp and relentless as ever, I see.

Touko: And what's with those third-rate metaphors? Get me out of here, I don't want to be a part of this bottom of the barrel book!

Monika: Hey, don't treat me like some sort of struggling writer, I know how to tell a story in a coherent way that makes sen-

Touko: The Chinese finger trap was obviously designed by the Chinese, detectives don't write their first names on their office doors, I write more genres beside romance and mystery, I don't like singing, there's no such thing as an "undercover club singer", and April 11th 1947 was a Friday, not a Monday.

It was no use. I couldn't win against the ultimate novelist with my crappy Noire parody. I hung my head in defeat as Touko took two steps forward and sat on the chair in front of my desk, lighting a cigarette.

Touko: I don't smoke either.

Monika: This is a Noire, everyone must be smoking all the time or there is no drama! Geez, can't you change into Genocider Syo for a while so I actually have someone to talk to?

Touko: I-I'm not going to turn into a psychopathic murderer just because she bonded with you! What is wrong with you, what sort of detective are you!?

The woman smoking a cigarre-... eating a lollipop was only a half of the person I had in front of me. Her other half, Genocider Syo, was a murdering maniac I had a lot more in common with than the writer herself.

Touko: Y-you can stop fantasizing with me now, we've got a case to solve.

Having said this, she tossed a newspaper on my desk. The headline read "Monokuma found murdered in local philanthropist's house. Locked-room murder leaves police baffled".

Touko: Monokuma, the maniac behind the atrocities at the High-school mutual killing game, the Jabberwock island incident, and everything messed up in my series has been murdered. In a locked-room case, no less. Ironic to think that someone who rejoiced in creating so much suffering would end up going like this.

Monika: A-a locked-room murder!? This is something only a hard-boiled detective such as myself and her femme-fatale partner can solve!!

Touko: F-femme-fatale!? What kind of shitty Noire novels are you basing this on!?

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