The scent of blood traveled through the air the way water flowed through a channel. Pickaxes bombarded the stone walls, sending bits of dirt and tiny clouds of dust flying around the points of impact. The wielders of those pickaxes stood in a line of twenty, each linked together by heavy metal fetters that restrained their ankles and waists. The chains stretched far enough for the men to move without much issue, provided they only moved the amount that their task required. If they moved any further, they'd meet resistance, not only from the chains, but from the guards standing behind them, as well. Each held a cudgel in their hands to utilize as a first warning. Usually that was enough, but on the off chance that it wasn't, a gun rested in each belt, and while it was comfortable there, it was by no means unwilling to leave.
Escape was a pipe dream, gone since the day they first stepped into the Rugged Diamond Correctional Facility. That was the official name for it, but everyone in Dyamondix knew it as the Sulfuric Shithole. The first half of the name came from one of the many mines that ran underneath the prison, the sulfur content of which outweighed any other mine in the district; the second came from the grotesque amounts of excrement that lined the ground due to a lack of proper plumbing. Luckily for the twenty men occupying this mine—one that hosted coal deposits—their hours were relatively reasonable, so usually no issues appeared. On the rare occasion that someone did have to blow out their insides, however, a hole in the ground that was connected to a waste pipe served its purpose well enough.
Compared to some of the other punishments and labors the Sulfuric Shithole offered, coal mining was gentle. Their hours were reasonable, with work days only stretching about four hours at a time. Granted, the labor itself was grueling, but it was better to do a harsh task for a short period of time than an average task for a long period of time. That was the mindset of every prisoner, especially the ones in the coal mine at the moment.
Each man here was linked to one another, not just by chains of metal but the chains of fate. Crimes hung under the belts of the prisoners, ranging from theft to rape to assault. Though most prisoners in the Sulfuric Shithole had committed these same crimes, this group was one of a few that had displayed compliance beyond that of the other prisoners.
One member of this group, however, differed from the others. Rather than by losing his trial, Tetsuhiro Morinaga agreed to go to prison without any sort of hesitance or struggle. There wasn't a point in trying, anyway. Those against him were far too strong and far too powerful to win against. It wasn't as if he wanted to be in prison; hell, there was no reason for him to be in prison, either. He'd been accused of rape, but he knew that he'd committed no such crime. The one who'd accused him knew that, too.
Up until his twenty-third year, Tetsuhiro had hopped from lover to lover without being able to keep one for longer than about a month. Nightclubs became his second home, and often times he found himself waking up with a massive hangover in his head and a person—or, sometimes, people—he didn't remember in his bed. All the gay circles knew him for his charm in the streets and skill in the sheets. Of course he enjoyed himself, but it never lasted long. All the love and pleasure he felt faded from his body the moment after he released.
But after meeting Masaki, that all changed.
Tetsuhiro had met Masaki after his friend pointed him out at a bar. On a whim Tetsuhiro approached him, and after a brief conversation and a few drinks, he found Masaki deeply rooted in both his heart and his body. Unlike Tetsuhiro, though, Masaki wasn't nearly as comfortable with his sexuality. Usually he didn't go for the hesitant type, but Masaki's hesitance was so adorable that he couldn't resist snatching him up.
They did have to watch, though. In the year that they'd been together, never once was there a time when the duo wasn't careful. Masaki belonged to a family that ran the largest textile industry in Dyamondix, and the others in his family were nowhere near accepting of homosexuality. The couple lived in constant fear of being caught, a fact that Tetsuhiro despised. But he went along with it regardless. Because for the first time in his life, he loved, and he felt loved. He'd offered to take Masaki away from his family and live with him somewhere else, far from discrimination and hate. After much persuasion, Masaki agreed, and Tetsuhiro began searching for a home where they could live together.
Eventually he found one, and he planned to take Masaki with him at the end of the same week. Days before, Tetsuhiro visited, and the couple had showered each other in intimacy and love...and Masaki's father had filled their hearts with fear and shock.
Whether he did so on a whim or with full intention, Tetsuhiro didn't know, but he did know that Masaki had put on the best display of distress and terror that he'd seen in a long time. Completely nude, Tetsuhiro found himself being beaten by Masaki's father, but before too many of his bones could break, the authorities came. Days later, he was admitted to Dyamondix's largest prison.
The days went slowly at first, and even six months later they still dragged on like a corpse being dragged from battle. Little by little prison life chipped away at Tetsuhiro, formerly so full of life and happiness. But like the coal he currently harvested from the walls of the mine, the pickaxe of betrayal gouged out those emotions, leaving him empty.
He didn't resent Masaki, though. Not entirely, anyway. He understood fully why Masaki had done what he'd done—but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off. He'd lost the strongest relationship he'd ever had, gotten his heart shredded apart ten times over, had his freedoms stripped away—all because Masaki was afraid of what other people thought about him.
A harsh whistle sounded throughout the tunnel, and instantly all heads turned to the masked overseer. "Work's over," he announced. "Set your tools down and vacate the area."
With sighs and exclamations of relief, the prisoners dropped their axes and shuffled out of the mine. Six guards escorted them out, two in the front, two in the middle, and two in the back. Tetsuhiro stood in the relative middle of the line, but the middle guards were positioned one ahead of him.
After being led up a stone staircase, the collection of inmates entered the Terminal, an area from which all tunnels branched off. Already the second shift of workers prepared for their work, removing their shirts to keep from overheating and pulling on gloves to keep their skin from getting raw. Granted, most of their hands were heavily calloused already, but the pickaxes weren't exactly the smoothest tools in the world.
"Lord, I'm exhausted," a dreamy voice said from behind. A hand placed itself upon Tetsuhiro's shoulder, and a glance to the side alerted him to the shorter, ginger-haired inmate he'd befriended. Hiroto's charge was less severe than Tetsuhiro's, merely the sale of illegal alcohol and a few aphrodisiacs. He'd been imprisoned for about two months, and he was scheduled for release in about two more. Under any other circumstances he would've been placed in a smaller correctional facility, but every now and then Dyamondix's government gave those who had committed minor crimes major punishments in an attempt to lessen the crime rate. Sometimes it worked, but mostly things remained the same.
"You don't look that exhausted," Tetsuhiro replied.
"Well, compared to others, I don't look very exhausted," he allowed. "But I am, believe me."
It was hard to do, since the ginger looked like he hadn't broken much of a sweat. Then again, Tetsuhiro wasn't sweating all that much, either. About a month after he'd started working in the mines, he'd grown used to the work. Not only that, but he'd also learned that he didn't have to put in all of his effort each time he struck the stone. He just needed to seem like he was putting all of his effort into each blow. Dramatizing his grunting had covered his tracks well enough. He wasn't the fastest miner by any means, but he wasn't the slowest, either. Comfortably in the middle, where he wouldn't get beaten by the guards or the other inmates.
"Can't wait to shower," Hiroto continued.
He let out a soft scoff. "What's wrong? You needy again?"
He wasn't looking, but Tetsuhiro knew Hiroto had blushed. "Oh, shut up. I feel hot and disgusting and not in a good way."
Snickering to himself, Tetsuhiro led Hiroto into one of the hallways that connected the Terminal with their cell block. Mirrors hung on all sides, save from the floor. The door behind them closed with a bang. A panel of the mirrored wall extended outward, then slid to the left. Out came two guards dressed in grey, both with a bag on their back. Both prisoners outstretched their arms, and the guards set about patting them down. Though for the most part everyone left the Terminal without any issues, but there were times when that reality wasn't a reality. In Tetsuhiro's six months of imprisonment, there had been two cases of an inmate smuggling a weapon out of the mines. In the first case, it was merely a sharpened piece of coal, but in the second, it was a jagged blade broken off a pickaxe. Surprisingly, the first case had struggled with his meager weapon, and he'd actually managed to destroy a guard's knee cap and land a decent blow to another's shoulder. Regrettably, though, he didn't live long after that, so few had heard the tale directly from him.
After the guards found nothing, they disappeared behind the panel again. Moments later the automated door in front of the inmates opened, and they stepped into the bleak grey cellblock they called home.
"I wouldn't have to be needy if you didn't keep rejecting me," Hiroto mumbled.
Tetsuhiro sighed. "You know why that is."
"I understand that, but it's been six months already. Did he really mean that much to you?"
"Yeah, he did," Tetsuhiro snapped, harsher than he'd meant. "Besides, I'd prefer to not have sex in a place where everyone can see and hear us."
Hiroto tilted his head to the side. "So if we'd met outside of prison you'd consider it?"
Tetsuhiro shrugged. "Possibly. Though at this point it'd just be for blowing off steam. Not for enjoyment."
The ginger's shoulders sagged. "You're so subtle," he mumbled.
"I don't mean it as an offense to you. I just... I don't know. I'm not in the right mindset to have sex, let alone have good sex."
"It's a shame, though. I've heard about your talent a lot."
"Glad to hear my name's traveled so far."
Now it was Hiroto who scoffed. "You sound so convincing."
"I wasn't trying to cover it up. I'm being honest."
"You're being apathetic," the ginger retorted. "Stop wallowing. It's not attractive."
"Who says I wanna be? Have you seen some of the bastards here?"
"Yeah, I know. But at least most of the scary-looking ones are in the Pits."
Tetsuhiro nodded without a verbal reply. Dyamondix was split into four districts: Coal to the north, Ruby to the south, Jade in the east, and Diamond in the west. For all of his life Tetsuhiro had lived in Diamond, the wealthiest and most advanced district in the nation. Industry and economy thrived in Diamonds far more than it did in the other districts, especially Coal. Separated from the other districts by a thin strip of sea, Coal was considered the trashbag of Dyamondix. Originally it had just started out with the Pits, a massive prison community that made up a third of the present-day Coal. The entire island had once been a military base, but a century ago disease struck the island, and in an attempt to eradicate the disease, fires and explosions bombarded the land. Now all that was left were the remnants of what had once been. The building that had once covered the Pits had been blown to bits, but the massive system of halls and rooms underneath it had remained. For the past hundred years prisoners deemed too dangerous for the other districts had been thrown into the Pits, and while at one point it was a hellish place, seventy-five years ago all military personnel left out of fear of the diseases returning, successfully abandoning all prisoners in the process.
Now in the present, Coal was its own district that hosted all varieties of criminals and vigilantes that didn't fit into any of the other districts. At one point Diamond had tried to enact laws for the criminals, but a few wise men hadn't allowed that to occur. Coal had been formed by the criminals, so it would be ruled by the criminals. While Coal was officially part of Dyamondix, the only time it was connected to the other districts was in the event of criminals or prisoners being shipped there to solve overcrowding.
"How long's your sentence here, anyway?" Hiroto asked.
Tetsuhiro shrugged. "Dunno. It's been bouncing around for awhile. It went from ten years to fifty years to twenty years to life to fifty years again—I don't know. As long as I'm not put to death, I'll be all right."
At least, he hoped he'd be all right. Longer than a few more months in this shithole didn't appeal to him much. He was only twenty-three—he didn't want his life to rot away here. He'd already become a shell of his former self; at this rate, he'd be nothing but a pile of dust by the year's end.
