Yamaguchi didn't really expect luxury from the palace dungeons, but this was far worse than anything he had imagined beforehand. He had figured they would have been like what he had seen in the Firefly empire, barren, primitive, and a little dirty but livable and humane at the very least. The Firefly palace, it seemed, had exceptionally lavish dungeons; either that or the Slithering Isles treated their prisoners with notable lack of care. Perhaps, it was a little bit of both, or maybe Daishou had deliberately given Yamaguchi the worst of the worst cells.
Regardless of the reason, Yamaguchi's prison cell was absolutely miserable. It was less a cell and more of a subterranean room of packed soil with iron bars across the one entrance. Yamaguchi had no cot, blanket, or other basic amenities, nothing at all. Whenever it rained heavily, the water seeped in through the roof and walls of dirt and turned the whole place into a muddy mess; it, of course, always rained, so Yamaguchi was always coated in a substantial layer of grime. On the dryer times of day, when the ceiling didn't look like it was at risk of caving in under water weight, Bugs crawled out of the hidden nooks and crannies and infested any slightly dry space. Between the constant dampness and the cool underground air, the prison cell was far colder than anywhere in the palace proper. It was a temperature that Yamaguchi would have probably once equated with summers up north, but it was a drastic change from the constant humid heat of above.
To make matters worse, Yamaguchi was treated atrociously by the guards. His meals, if one could even call them that, consisted of one meagre slice of bread a day and no water to speak of. To keep himself from dehydration, Yamaguchi had to drink the rain that seeped through the walls and ceiling and hope he wouldn't catch some kind of jungle-illness from the sullied water. He had even considered licking the condensation off the iron bars that kept him caged but decided that he needed to keep at least some shred of his dignity intact. Not that he had much to preserve in the first place, not while he sat, mud-covered and shivering, in what barely constituted as undergarments. As restrictive and insufferable as they were, Yamaguchi missed the fine garments of the upper palace.
Daishou, paranoid and angry, made sure to visit Yamaguchi at least twice daily. The serpentine man was short with his temper and constantly pressed Yamaguchi for information with questions he had no answer to. Daishou had come to believe that Yamaguchi was part of some secret underground resistance movement, more specifically one that tampered with his war machines. Yamaguchi, of course, knew nothing of such topics besides his own minor tampering, which he did not divulge to the prince. Yamaguchi didn't even know why Daishou would think he had involved himself in some mind of pseudo-revolution; he had never once made a public appearance or travelled outside castle bounds.
Even with nothing to substantiate his claims, Daishou continuously blamed Yamaguchi for the, apparently frequent, failures in his plans. Yamaguchi listened if only to gain useful information. Construction efforts on the islands had been interfered with, a boat mysteriously sunk here, a building crumbled there. Animal attacks had seen a sudden and unexplained uptick in frequency, especially to foremen and military contractors. Nobles had started to find poisonous snakes and other reptiles in their homes, and Daishou was convinced someone had planted them. To Yamaguchi it simply sounded like the animals of the jungle were fighting back. After all, Daisou had started to industrialize and deforest the islands. Any time Yamaguchi denied involvement, though, Daishou would hit him and storm out in a rage before he returned later to start the cycle again.
Escape, of course, was constantly on Yamaguchi's mind. He was no damsel in distress, and he had rather lost hope in the mysterious letter senders. In any other scenario, he could simply use his synergy to pick the lock mechanism on the cell door, but as it was, his synergy was thwarted. His cell was largely unguarded, yes, but that was because the guards had no reason to believe Yamaguchi could escape. Daishou, for all his malicious arrogance, was a smart man, and he knew better than to leave a synergist with their powers. There was a potion, lukewarm and odorous, that Yamaguchi presumed could be brewed with some plant native only to the isles. To any normal person, it would likely be nothing more than a particularly unpleasant green tea, but as it was, something about it dampened a synergist's abilities. It wasn't a permanent solution; the concoction clearly had a shelf life of about twelve hours, as Daishou personally came twice a day to make sure Yamaguchi drank his share. As unfortunate as it was, Yamaguchi could not for the life of him think of a way to get out of drinking the potion, nothing that wouldn't make it obvious he was trying to escape anyway.
One evening, three days into his imprisonment an opportunity arose. Yamaguchi had, in his short time underground, learned two things; how to keep track of time without the sun, and how to tell when his synergy was coming back to him. Like clockwork, Daishou came to the cell just as Yamaguchi felt his synergy start to strengthen, and like clockwork, Daishou set down the potion glass between the cell bars. This time though, something different happened.
That day had been exceptionally dry, by island standards, and the bugs had been bolder as a result. Several times throughout the day Yamaguchi had had to pick cockroaches, centipedes, and spiders out of his hair and off his skin. Personally, Yamaguchi preferred the wet days to the dry ones, despite the seeming counterintuitivity, the ceiling of the cell and connecting hallways were much more stable when there was more mud than dirt. When the weather was dry the ceiling cracked and crumbled slightly under its own weight, while when it was wet, the fractures were sealed with new mud from the surface.
Apparently, that third day was the caving point, literally. Right as Daishou leaned down to place the suppressant on the ground, the hallway ceiling crumbled. Above where Daishou stood, large clods of dirt and rocks fell and knocked him to the ground. Errant rubble bounced its way into Yamaguchi's cell, and by pure chance, knocked over the glass of vial liquid, which was immediately absorbed into the ground. Then, to turn a good situation into an even better one, droves of ants poured out of the hole in the ceiling. They flew down on their tiny wings, maybe they were termites and not ants, Yamaguchi was no bug expert, and landed square on Daishou. The snake prince, clearly not one for bugs, let out a rather undignified shriek as he stood up and panickedly left the hallway. In the commotion, he failed to notice that Yamaguchi hadn't drunk a drop of that which was meant to keep him imprisoned.
For safety's sake, Yamaguchi waited until when he presumed to be nightfall before he made any move to escape. Finally, when the time seemed right, and his synergy was back to an adequately useful level, Yamaguchi saw it fit to pick the locked gate. Tense and sure to move as quietly as possible, the soon-to-be escapee placed his palm against the lock. He willed the little metal gears and teeth to move and turn on their own, and with a click, the prison cell bars swung open.
Silently, Yamaguchi sent a quick thanks to the Goddess for her creation of bugs, he wasn't all that fond of them himself, but because of the infestation, the underground cells were free of guards, at least for the time being. Sneaking out couldn't have been easier.
Yamaguchi followed the hollowed-out dirt hallways and made his way up a steep set of stone stairs where he reached a heavy wooden trapdoor. It too was locked, likely from the outside, and Yamaguchi once again put his newly recovered synergy to good use. He could hear the chains unwind and fall loose with an audible clink; whatever room the trapdoor was connected to was luckily empty enough for the sound to not be heard. Still, Yamaguchi waited a bit longer before he pushed through and into the next room. It was some kind of pantry; if the herbs hung on the wall and the caskets of wine were anything to go on. There was only one way out of the room, barring the dungeon entrance, and so Yamaguchi had no choice other than to go up, back into the palace.
The pantry exit led to the kitchen, where only one maid remained; her back was turned to him as she busied herself with cleaning the dishes, what luck. Unfortunately for Yamaguchi, the door that led directly outside was right next to the last kitchen maid. He stood there for another minute, crouched in the doorway, and weighed his options. He could go through one of the other doors that led further into the palace, but while that would avoid the maid, it could lead to guards and conflict. If he chose to rush past the maid and outside, well, the maid would raise an alarm or chase him, but he'd also be off palace grounds quicker. Besides, how fast and dangerous can one maid be?
Yamaguchi bolted. The quickest path outside was the best way to freedom, and Yamaguchi refused to take any chances with the guards again. The maid dropped the dishes she had been cleaning as Yamaguchi ran past and shrieked, but she made no move to chase him. It would take time for her to find a guard, not much time, but enough for a considerable head start.
He reached the hedgerow of the palace gardens rather quickly and with no interference this time. Only one guard had noticed him, but he was all the way on the other side of the garden and would never make it in time. Yamaguchi was practically free, all he had to do was break through the hedgerow, and there'd be no way to catch him in the thick undergrowth of the rainforest.
Of course, nothing could ever go to plan. A low rumble emitted from just behind the shrubbery, and Yamaguchi could faintly spot a pair of reflective yellow eyes. A tiger, large and looming, stalked out of the forest and straight towards Yamaguchi. Suddenly, the prison didn't sound too bad, and Yamaguchi had just enough time to turn tail and sprint in the opposite direction, back to the palace and the guard. He wasn't fast enough.
The tiger pounced and pinned Yamaguchi to the ground with its great weight against his back. The poor synergist cracked his head on a rock as the predatory feline took him down, and his vision quickly deteriorated. There was an intense, but not skin-braking, pressure on his left leg, and he felt himself be dragged backwards toward the forest. The tiger had him in its maw, and it would not release its prey.
Yamaguchi struggled frantically and grabbed at the ground for traction, but his disorientation from the fall and borderline dehydration from the dungeon made him weak. Resistance was futile. The tiger picked up speed as it broke through the tropical hedge, and Yamaguchi found himself scraping across the foliaged ground at a shockingly high speed.
Dirt flung up into his eyes, his hands bled from the struggle, and roots and rocks pelted his belly and face in a barrage of pain. Tired from his struggles, hopeless from his twice failed escape, and desperate for some kind of respite, Yamaguchi went limp. Faintly, he could make out the sound of running water and birds. Just as he attempted to look at the blur of a world around him, Yamaguchi felt his head collide with yet another sizable rock.
His vision started to black out just as the tiger slowed to a halt. Yamaguchi could almost swear he heard a voice, but he could no longer be sure, not with all the damage he sustained. Someone had rolled him over, and for the first time in days, Yamaguchi could see the stars, blurry as they were. Crows, seemingly hundreds of them, cawed loudly as he lay on the ground, placid and hopeless. Something silver entered Yamaguchi's fuzzy vision. Was it the moon? A sword from some soldier? Yamaguchi didn't know, and before he could try and focus his eyes, the world faded to black.