The cell was cold, always freezing cold. He knew that, and always wore layer after layer to fend off the chilly air when he opened the door. It never helped much; his teeth still chattered and his body still shook.

But the buckling of his knees told him it wasn't just from the cold.

It was a nice and easy post, they had told him to lure him into this accursed role; all he had to do was watch the door, open it and close it for the prisoner. Because that's what she was, they said. A prisoner they used as a tool.

Considering he was dealing with the Harusame Pirates—especially such a radical section—he should have known how shady all of that was. But hey, he was a pirate too, and it paid good money to send back home! What reason did he have to decline?

He just wished he'd asked what'd happened to the man he was replacing sooner.

His first day at his new post, no one would meet his eyes. Crewmates whispered back and forth with uncharacteristic, pitying looks in his direction. They shook thier heads, "what a shame," they muttered. "What a terrible shame."

Another red flag he should have seen so much sooner.

No one would take him to the cell he was guarding; they just gave vague directions, eyes shifting guiltily. If only he recognized the fear in the other's eyes as he walked down the maze of halls.

He really should have known. If only he hadn't been thinking of the money.

The breath was knocked out of him the second he saw the cell; his knees turned to jelly.

There were no bars on the cell, just thick walls of steel and a thick door with only a small slot for delivering meals, covered and locked shut. Even through the door and walls, he could feel the frigid air, and every hair stood on end. But worst of all were the walls.

The walls, the floor, the ceiling...They hadn't made even the slightest attempt to cover the bloodstains. Some looked old, but others were fresh, recent. It seemed to radiate evil, reek of death.

"You're late." The vice-captain that greeted him was an amanto woman with a sour expression on her face, as though everything about him disappointed her. Her coat was blue. He couldn't recall anything else about her, months later. Just her expression, one of undisguised disgust and her fur lined blue coat (it was hideous).

Looking back, he was sure he said something in response but couldn't recall what it was. He wasn't sure if it was even comprehensible.

She ran through an explanation of how to open and securely close the door, what to do and what not to in a rapid fashion, ignoring his shocked state. "Is that understood?" She asked curtly.

Not at all.

"The...person I'm replacing...?" He finally managed to force out, unable to tear his eyes from the shocking scene.

"Ah, him?" She snorted. "Try not to be like that; the janitorial staff took forever to get him off the walls."

He should have just bolted, run for it. He should have left this life behind him. If it weren't for the money...

Somehow, he was able to pull himself together; he had to. Surely these thick walls and the heavy door were enough to protect him! It could be anything that scary if it was a prisoner! He just had to keep it together until he could get a job in the cafeteria instead. Surely that would be safer!

And he was partially right. The monster didn't look like one; it just looked like a little girl. She had heavy chains binding her arms and restraining her legs. They didn't seem to bother her in the least.

She looked about the same age of his little sister, a cheery and sweet young girl. But this girl's eyes had none of the same youthful innocence ; they seemed cold, sad, empty. But there was something there he just couldn't place. Then she smiled, a grin from ear to ear.

Oh.

It was madness.

He learned very early on that the walls and chains were just for the illusion of safety; they were less than paper to the monster. He was lucky to survive; he didn't know how or why he had. All he knew was that the vice-captain hadn't.

Sometimes the monster talked. Not to him, not to anyone, not even herself. He only got snippets here and there: "Mami," "Nii-chan," "Papi," "cold," "Earth." And the one phrase that always came up was "together forever."

When they escorted the monster back to its cell, soaked in blood and covered in dirt, he felt a chill and shakes that had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with fear.

Fear that underneath that madness and indiscriminate violence and bloodlust, there was still a lonely, lost little girl who wanted her family back.