The media portrayed the Sulfuric Shithole as, well, an absolute shithole. Every parent told their children, regardless of age, that if they committed a crime, they'd end up there. They spoke of the horrors that went on within the stone-and-metal walls—the rapes, the riots, the rotting away of spirits and bodies alike. Every day a new horror would unfold. A new body surfaced every hour; the screams of the distressed could be heard echoing from the deepest recesses of the solitary unit; the floors, originally white, were now a dull brown from all the blood that had splattered there—and other harrowing stories of the like.
However, while prison was nowhere near fun, it was nowhere near that bad, either.
Perhaps other inmates thought otherwise, but in Tetsuhiro's case, prison was more boring than dangerous. Granted, there were a few rapes and murders and fights here and there, but rarely did they ever escalate beyond a single offense. Most prisoners were shipped off to the Pits immediately if they committed such offenses within the prison's walls. Most times that was enough to scare the other prisoners into keeping compliant.
He hadn't ever visited Coal—few people from Diamonds could say that they had—but most stories he'd heard were about the same. It was a cold, lawless place, where friends could easily turn into enemies over something as simple as food. Disease and filth ran rampant throughout the island, reminders of the origins of the destruction that took place there a century ago.
Though, considering the painstakingly boring routine he'd experienced in the past six months, Tetsuhiro wouldn't mind visiting the grey rock everyone feared so much. Day in and day out, the same events transpired: prisoners awoke at eight for room inspection, ate from a mediocre selection of dullness, worked their various tasks for however long they were assigned, ate from the same mediocre selection, returned to their tasks, ate yet again, then headed back to their cells at nine to sleep. Then they awoke at eight the next morning, and the routine continued. Unendingly. Forever.
But sometimes 'forever' was irregular in length.
A few times out of the month, instead of returning to work after noon, certain groups prisoners were allowed free time in the massive yard positioned in the middle of the facility. Unlike the rest of the place, the yard resembled civility. The ground had large patches of grass and stone walkways, much like a park would have. Best of all, though, a glance upward showed the sky, a distant memory to most prisoners, regardless of where they resided. Even free citizens would kill for that view; Diamond was a heavily industrialized district, to the point where the other districts looked like forests in comparison. Naturally smoke and smog fought one another for control of the skies, leaving the expanse of blue completely forgotten in some parts of the district.
Tetsuhiro stared up at that somewhat forgotten luxury now, laying back on a stone bench with his arms linked behind his head. Summer dried up like water in a desert, just as autumn started to drift down from the trees. Seasons were easy to lose track of when imprisoned—he knew of a handful of prisoners who firmly believed that it was still winter. He didn't know for sure, but Tetsuhiro thought it was around September. Either that or late August; it was too warm for October.
Around him other prisoners milled about. Most just sat in their respective groups and spoke with one another about topics ranging from how difficult work was to how much they hated others. He thought he heard the word 'escape' drift from someone's mouth. He had to scoff at that. The only way a person left this place was by being taken out by someone on the outside, whether by authorities for movement to a different facility, release, or being bought out by a family member or friend. Regrettably Tetsuhiro didn't have the luxury of the last, since his entire family had basically thrown him away after they found out about the 'rape' he'd committed. Even if that hadn't have happened, though, he was still estranged for different reasons. A few too many parties and a few too little precautions taken. He did meet with his brother on occasion, but those were rarer than someone from Diamonds heading to Coal willingly.
He let out a sigh. Hiroto had been moved to another mining group, and he wouldn't get out until an hour from now. When he'd arrived to the Shithole, he hadn't bothered finding a group to insert himself into. It didn't really matter that much, though; following obvious events, he found it difficult to associate with others.
Though the stone bench did bite into his back, it was the most comfort he was going to get. The ground was deceptive; it looked luscious and beautiful, but it felt even harder than steel when you laid on it. Shifty bastards, the guards were. Elements like that had inspired the name False Civility for the yard area.
Another sigh escaped his lips, and his eyes drifted shut. He thought he could sleep for the next hour until his one companion arrived.
He thought wrong.
Instead he was stuck in a perpetual consciousness, able to recognize that he was awake but feeling as if he was asleep. But somehow time ticked by, and after a decent amount of it had passed, he felt someone standing over him. His eyes opened, but they didn't meet the sapphire ones that he'd expected. Instead he stared up at a piece of tinted glass behind which eyes stared down at him. All guards wore helmets or masks—some odd superstition of not having the guards 'poisoned' by the prisoners.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"You look comfortable," the guard commented.
He shrugged. "I'm not."
"Good. You won't mind getting up, then."
Another shrug. "I don't really wanna."
"Oh? but you just said that you weren't comfortable."
"My opinion changed. Something else you want?"
He couldn't see the guard's eyes, but he knew the gaze he received was a hateful one. Unsurprising. "Mouthy bastard, aren't you?"
"No. Just dying inside."
"Go die somewhere else."
"Don't wanna."
A growl drifted out from under the guard's breath, and out of the corner of his eye Tetsuhiro saw him draw a cudgel out from his belt.
Tetsuhiro rose from the bench.
"See? Was that so hard?" The bastard asked it with a taunt in his voice.
He didn't respond. Rather, he glanced around the ground. A larger-than-normal rock sat beside his shoe. After glancing over his shoulder to ensure the guard wasn't looking, Tetsuhiro picked up the rock and slipped it into the pocket of his prison jumpsuit.
He took two laps around the yard, fingering the rock within his pocket as he walked. Coal was a haven for criminals, and it was a harsh place. But it was a freer place. A place where he would be able to possibly get help. Or, at least, get the means to help himself a little better. But there was no way he'd be leaving the Shithole without committing an offense.
Luckily for him, though, assaulting a guard was just above murdering another prisoner on the severity of offenses.
He slowed his walk to a gentle stroll, to the point where a snail could've beaten him in a race. Once he drifted close enough to the guard on the bench, he swung the rock at the glass in the guard's helmet.
And then every fan was hit with shit.
The glass cracked but didn't shatter, and while the guard was stunned, he wasn't incapable of retaliation. And retaliate he did, this time with his club. Tetsuhiro managed to step out of the way of the swinging weapon the first time, but the second time it struck him in the side. Pain burst at the spot of impact, but adrenaline managed to nullify it enough for him to remain standing. Never more had he thanked his generous height, for a well-aimed kick managed to strike the glass plate of the helmet again. This time the plate shattered, and from the scream that erupted from the guard's mouth, Tetsuhiro knew the fragments had stabbed some part of his face. He was fine with any part, but if it was an eye, he'd be guaranteed a trip to Coal.
"You son of a bitch!" the guard spat. "You killed my eye!"
Excellent.
Another blow struck him, though this time from behind and at his head. He fell to his knees with a grunt, blood and bruising now occupying the spot of impact. Two forces pulled him up from behind, and again another blow struck his head. Blackness seeped into the edges of his vision, and slowly his conscious slipped away.
He didn't struggle.
