Here I am, stuck in this prison cell that happens to look like I booked an Airbnbout-of-town. Nobody for sure, even me, knows when I will get out of here. It's even worse that I was temporarily abstained as opposed to a more fixed punishment, like getting fined for drunk driving, or a simple murder that can get you to jail for a year or two, depending on the severity of the crime.

I don't think what was imposed on me was a simple murder, because I'm abstained indefinitely.

An indefinite amount of time, unknown, no estimate, no time remaining. So questions keep popping like am I going out tomorrow, the next week, the next month, year, decade, for a lifetime?

That sucks.

People really are finicky, changing up the rules all the time.

Once again, here I am sitting on this unusually comfy bed for such a prison cell. Just like last time, I'm not even sure if I could call it such. Maybe it would be fitting to call it a hotel room or even more euphemistic, an abstaining room. Meh, I think it's still as grave as calling one a prison cell.

Okay, let's just call this "room."

"Yo, yo, yo, yo!"

"W-wh?"

I was somewhat drifting off from my clouded and convoluted thoughts as in front of me were two hands waving in all sorts of directions.

He stood up with hands on his hips, "Sheesh, come on dude! You were ghosting me ever since you were thrown here. What's cookin', Mr. Lookin'?"

. . . .

I broke eye contact with him, fell silent.

What am I doing?

Someone's been so nice to me, yet I unconsciously acted cold in front of him. As if this isn't me in this body, it felt like someone else's—cold, silent, overly-reserved.

I grasped my hand on my heart.

It's as if a terrible storm is brewing violently into my senses, let alone my heart.

Was it this trauma that befell on me?

I never knew—

I never knew one person could land such an explosive clusterfuck on your mentality, like Hiroshima on steroids.

I should've been more careful.

I should've paid more attention to Aka's advice when she said that I should have let this go before it kills me.

Hah.

I'm so clueless and stupid.

Tomo.

Tomo.

Tomo.

I really have one simple question for you,

What in tarnation did I do?

Nnnghh...

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

My head's really full and messed up, I held my head as if that's gonna work, looking down like a failed human being.

"Ooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" The man in front of me plucked my forehead, causing me to flinch from my seat like I've reacted to a million-decibel explosion of Krakatoa or something.

I was finally kicked out of this anti-pragmatic world in my mind, as I looked up and finally established eye contact with this pestering and uplifting man.

"Oh. . . . Yo." I finally greeted him with a palm.

"Yo, yo, yo! Heyo!" He pumped his fists and bended his body forward with sparkly and pure eyes. "Coolio! Hey, I just noticed we have the same greeting? Did you copy that, or that's how you usually greet people—woahhh!"

"That's how I greet." I apathetically said.

"Nice nice! Tsk, tsk!" He clicked his tongue twice and complimented me for my coolness(?). He then later hopped on to the bed as he sat next to me. "What's cookin'? Your mind seems like it's all full of why's! Turn that frown upside down and make those what's! It's useless to keep lingering on what already has happened!"

Part of me first thought that he's a chef. He sure loves this "What's cookin'" catchphrase of his.

"Yeah, sorry for that."

"Don't be sorry! Hey, let's lighten you up shall we?" He pointed confidently at his heart. "The name's Aoki!"

"Akko. Akko here."

Upon hearing my reply, he gave a warm smile that's so pure hearted for a man.

A smile—A smile that eerily looked like a killer. I never thought boys could have a cute smile. Maybe that's just me setting a standard.

"Woah! What?! Our names sound like it could be a pair of twins! Hmmm..." He looked up with a finger on his chin, "You know, that could be really advantageous to a crippling situation—like you'd say 'Aoo—' then if you thought that if someone mistaken me for you, they could simply suffix the '-kko' in your name, so it would sound like 'Aookko.' But hey, that works! Casual scrutiny at best."

Perhaps I have run past the runway, is he proficient in linguistics or a chef—maybe even a Doctorate in Linguistics?!

"That would stink," I added. "It's like someone getting hurt then just affixing the last syllable of my name."

"Tskahahahahaha! That's funny!" He bursted quite a unique laughter.

Aoki. It's the only given name that he introduced to me. We're all criminals, so I don't know for sure if that's an alias or his true name. He has quite average appearance—black hair and irises. His wear is somewhat simplistic—a white shirt with a yellow star paired with simple trousers. What shocked me is that he's so uplifting and welcoming for a guy, I thought that it's quite a stark of rarity among the masses—a man with a youthful and blissful flair.

He sure is—

"You sure remind me of a certain someone."

"Certain someone, wowwies!" He reacted with his hands on his jaws and his mouth pop open, "You sure had the time of your life then! Tell me more about it!" He later leaned his body on to my front and left brimmed with enthusiasm.

"Well, you're happy-go-lucky for one. Let's call this certain someone, 'someone.' They're pretty uplifting and happy all the time that they don't even budge a hint of any other emotion other than happiness. I'd say this someone is the true embodiment and epitome of mania. Their energy sort of reminds me of you."

"O-oh, it certainly is an honor to be a reminisce of that certain someone of yours," he bowed with a palm on her heart. "Is this 'someone' your friend, sibling, or even exciting—a love interest?!"

"Secret."

"Awhhh, that's a bummer!"

Suddenly, there was a calming bell sound that encompassed the "room." I looked up in confusion with a "?" painted all over my face.

"Ah, weren't you oriented? That's the time for lunch, Akko." He stood up and walked towards the metal door. While I just followed his lead.

"Wait, someone's going to fetch us for that, right?"

"What'ya mean 'fetch us for that?'" He simply opened the metal door inwards without even a distress of energy, "We're the ones going to the lunch place."

What.

Exactly. "What" has been painted all over my face. How many times have I painted my face with all of these confusing emotions? Yeah, I should put up a counter somewhere.

I must've been horribly missing out on the outside world.

Tailing on him and closing the metal door behind me, he soon walked to his right. On this terribly long hallway were a column of metal doors similar to ours which are comfortably spaced between each other. I assume that every prison cell or "room" could be similar to ours. "They sure had some finesse of funding on this facility," I said in my mind.

Eventually, I was walking side-by-side with Aoki.

I lied. I somewhat have a fear of exploring the unknown. That being the case, my body is akin to a running alternator of an A/C unit. The fact that this facility doesn't know what it's supposed to be—a school or hospital—just makes it worse. Well, let's level up my fear to that of a buzzing smartphone.

Soon after, Aoki cocked his head forward in question, "Hm? What's wrong Akko? You seem terribly out of the blue ever since I met you."

"Hey, you've been here for a while right?" I asked.

"Mhm, what about it?"

"Are my eyes deceiving me or is this really a prison slash police station?"

"Ah," He bammed his fist on his palm, a gesture of some sorts. "Have you happened to reside in America sometime in your life?"

Shoot.

"Well, it's just that most police stations and/or prisons that I've visited have this white-blue color palette with rusted iron jail bars and all'a that."

"Ahhhh..." Okay good, he forgot his suspicion. "From what I heard, the security departments, buildings, and whatnot in this country are designed to be human friendly. They were probably inspired by prisons you'd find in Scandinavia—like prisoners get to feel like they're at home, not some broken-down quality-of-life place with thugs."

"Oh god, I thought this is just a Ruruteru thing."

"Nah, all over the country dude, all over." He panned his palm over the air as he said that.

Huh, the police sure are clever about that trait. A small price to pay, but huge outcomes. Maybe that's why Aoki is super-friendly because he resided in a comfortable prison cell—sorry, "room?"

"Man, it's just more the reason to get jailed just to get this luxury." I said.

"Ah. No, no, no, no. Life's better outside."

I believed otherwise.

"Think about it Aoki, you spend a luxury living a middle-class to rich lifestyle. While in prison, all you have to do is live, eat, sleep, live. All of that covered by whoever takes care of this police station-prison whatever. You don't have to pay for anything. You just have to pay with your life."

"Good point, but nah. Life's still better outside, you cray-cray!"

There are so many questions that I wanted to ask out of Aoki, but I figured that it's too early to call.

We just met each other for less than an hour. Let that sink in for a moment.

After meters and meters of walking along this endless hallway, we finally reached the end of it—more like reaching the end of the tunnel. It has no doors, rather it's just bare door frames—perfect for a double door. In front of me is presumably the food area, lunch area, canteen—whatever you call this place, there's no sign on top of the pathway or something to call it such.

Shockingly, it very much resembles an American school canteen with benches that look like picnic tables with shimmering albeit used plastic. It's unlike the cafeteria we had back in Ruruteru Private University where it had high ceilings, fat pillars, and uniquely crafted plastic chairs and tables that pop color—the tables here on the other hand follow a uniform yellow color.

"Heh." Aoki chuckled at my childlike sight around the room. "You seem to be exploring new things everyday, aye?"

"You bet."

He later beckoned me to walk here to the side, where he guided me to the start of the serving area. We grabbed a tray each for the two of us, and lined up as we just easily slid our food trays along the silver rails.

I'm not sure if it's a myth of prison food that you'll be given some sage green chum bucket food that'll just be poured on your tray. Busted or not? Because the food here is average at best. My tray gets to have some chicken, rice, gravy, and some pair of bread. Aoki on the other hand opted for an all-salad meal. We later found ourselves a seat at an empty table.

Aoki hastily put his hands together. "Time to eat!" he vigorously said, as he munched immediately on the lush salad. While I just dug in on my chicken meal.

"Huh, not bad for prison food." I mumbled.

"Ehehhh? I thought it's tolerable at best—don't you make food for yourself, Akko?"

"I do cook, well at the bare minimum. All I know how to make is rice, egg, luncheon meat, and toasted bread." That's not just the bare minimum, it's the very bare minimum. If you think about it, you can only imagine two sane dishes from those four ingredients I suppose you call them? It could be three, but a rice sandwich is a whole nother story.

"How about you?"

"Likewise!" He giggled and went into his thinking gesture once again. "If I recall, I can only make grilled pork strips, yellow rice, egg, and an eggdesal."

I was left puzzled for a moment. "The hell's an eggdesal?"

"Imagine a round pan of bread, slice it, then add egg in-between." He shrugged. "It's a rounder way of saying that that's an egg sandwich."

"Why not just call it an egg sandwich?"

"Because I'm not referring to the slices of loaves as the buns."

Oooooohhh... makes sense. That cuisine better be a multitude of eccentricity, I wonder where it is from.

"But seriously though, you got arrested by a highly woman like her?"

"I dunno." I shrugged just like what he did earlier. "What about. her?"

"Dude!" He somewhat slammed the table with both hands and stood up whilst looking down to me. "Can't you believe it? Saki Omoe? She just literally speedrun half of the entire national security department! Saki is the head of the police department, then the investigative department, and the emergency services department. Not to mention, she crowned all of that for the southern district of the country! You could say that Saki is everywhere no matter where you go around these parts!"

"Where'd you hear all of that?"

"Totally not from me, several of our fellow friends here have talked about it for a long time now. I just so happened to overhear them once in a while."

"So? So what? It's just a title or position anyway." That doesn't fear me at all.

"Damn! Akko sure doesn't fear anyone! No fear, no mere!"

"You mean no pain, no gain?"

"No, I just made that up! Teehee~!" He exclaimed.

I sighed and slouched on the table with my left hand supporting my chin. "I mean at the end of the day, it's the person who matters, not the title they possess, the assets they possess, the lifestyle they imbue, nor the peers of different magnitudes they have."

"Oooo... You're saying that you judge a person solely through them and just them?" He commented. I was shocked that what he said is connected to what I just thought of, so I quickly covered my mouth. Holy guacamole, did I just say all of that out loud?

"U-uh. Yeah. At the end of that day, it meant paying due respect to the person who probably has been neglected for so long despite that they changed for the better."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I'm talking about people that cancel others for good."

Aiko snapped his fingers. "You mean cancel culture? Yeah that's rampant nowadays. Sad for elementary bullies who changed in high school and still gets neglected by the masses because of his kiddy petty crimes."

"To be honest, a crime is a crime. So they deserve that."

"Hold, hold, hold, hold on!" He repeated the first word in rapid succession with hands waving at me at light speed. "That just puts you back at square one aye—like if it's considered a culture or it's just plain right being lawful at all? I mean almost everyone would definitely rule somebody out for ruining each other's lives, so it's a mark off the list."

Ruling somebody out...

It hurts hearing this. Our own being gets hurt hearing this. Truth hurts, but almost everyone does this every day.

"Exactly, it's difficult to judge it from an objective standpoint. To give you an idea, it's much more of a nightmare becoming a politician—if you really studied for it. You have to be the perfect balance in hearing and judging both sides of an argument with the law as a simple guide."

"That's why the symbol of law is usually that scale with a hammer or something?"

"Yippity-yup."

Human minds.

It's so great, it's so fundamental. We're fortunate to be able to think, to cry, to get mad, to rationalize, have a theory of mind, have sympathy, be mutual, engage in all sorts of kinships. We universally recognize these traits without words. That's why aliens—at least from depictions of ones that actually invade our planet—do not understand whenever they kill our fellow beings.

Ironically, we divide and conquer. Man and woman. Ideologies. Stereotypes. Hierarchy. That triangle you see in Economics class about the priority of needs—Maslow's triangle that explains the Hierarchy of Needs. Misunderstand. Silence. Resist. Cancel. Judge. Sin. Avenge. Revenge. There are many more objectively good but usably bad deeds that I could name more of, but these are the ones that I personally hate—except Maslow's triangle, that's a screamer.

Multiply that by around almost eight billion people. There is a number, but it's enough to call that an infinite slew of possibilities, mutual think-alikes, and opposing think-alikes.

That's why I hate society, it's draining my mind every time I engage in such. That's why I seldom think about it.

"Wanna go back to our place, Akko?"

"Yeah, how about our trays?"

"You can just leave it, the staff around here will take care of it."

So it is, we both rose from our feet and walked out of the area. By the looks of it, security personnel still wouldn't accompany us in going back to our "room." It certainly reminds me of the past—like the luxurious discipline this place highly possesses. Though I suspect there are just some part of the security personnel heavily guarding the other end of this hallway approaching the main entrance—either that or security in this facility is tighter than you'd suffocate yourself strapping the belt on your waist so hard.

By the way, Aiko opened the door to our room like it was just any normal door, no hidden thingamajig keycard security guarded shenanigans required. Though I guess these doors may be locked down at night since naturally, that would be the perfect time to escape. Not like that I'll even dare trying to escape, that'll just use that as a concrete witness to just really land me in jail.

Little did I know that I still have a chance of being falsely prosecuted because of wonky evidence, so might as well take advantage of that. To be frank, the best way to survive in prison is not to do anything in prison.

Anyway, from the tiredness I garnered so far, I hopped and plomped on to my bed to experience the heaven of resting. On the other hand, Aoki sat on his, feeling like he's facing this way.

"Man dude, you sure are tired all day long! You have a long frowny face earlier, and you added to that a distressed and heavy head! What's the matter?" He asked.

"You do know getting jailed is an instant slingshot to your being."

"Well—yeah, being jailed is objectively the worst thing that you'd ever experience in your life. But Akko, you seem to be thinking about something—or someone else really hard lately. You look like you're not even worrying to yourself that you were jailed."

Oh, so he can somewhat read you even just by a vague face. Reminds me of another certain someone—one I could at least call a friend.

. . . .

I sat up and faced Aoki that's been sitting on the opposite bed. I didn't have eye contact with him, as I pondered around in my elements if I should tell him that or not. It's like one of those realizations that you've spit out most of your life story onto someone you either just met a few moments ago, or is a total stranger.

I mean, none of this is even worth anything anymore, it's just full of remorse and swirling violence.

. . . .

"Uh. Aoki?" I slowly mooned my eyes towards his.

"Hm? What's cookin'?"

"If you were the opposite sex and got romantically mutual with a man, what would you swear to death?"