ઇଓ 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 [𝕆𝕤𝕒𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕒]

𝔘𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔪

"Inmate number 73249, let's go."

The buzzer screeched as the officer pulled one of the prisoners to his feet and led him outside. Inmates rattled the bars of their cells and hollered at him to instigate a fight but he stayed quiet, eyes trained straight ahead.

"Drug test," the officer declared, pushing the man into the bathroom and crossing his arms.

He was then led to a waiting room, handcuffed to the table, and asked to wait.

two minutes.

five minutes.

seventeen minutes.

The door opened and he looked up. A new officer appeared uncuffing his wrists and dropped a pile of folded clothes in front of him.

"Get changed."

So he did.

He pulled on the loose blue jeans and the tight black shirt. An oversized green zip-up hung over his shoulders. Thin white socks slipped into a pair of tatty sneakers. And again, he was led somewhere else.

The exit.

He had a cellphone. A wallet with an expired credit card. Then he was pushed outside and into the sunlight.

It was a surprisingly bright morning in Tokyo.

At least, that was what Miya Osamu thought.

Osamu tensed when the phone in his hand rang. He checked the caller ID but it was unknown. Still, he swiped answer and held it to his ear.

"Long time no see, Miya."

Osamu's eyes widened briefly. Then the corners of his mouth turned upward.

"Aran?"

"Who else?"

Osamu grinned,

"How'd ya get my number—"

"Look for a dark blue honda in the second row of cars."

Osamu glanced around as he walked. He spotted the car and felt his grin widen as he walked over.

He lowered the phone from his ear and leaned down, hands in his pockets as he peered through the window.

"No fuckin' way," he said. Aran rolled down the window smirked, lowering the sunglasses on his nose.

"Gonna get in or what?"

Osamu walked over to the passenger side and opened the door, sliding into the car. Aran looked at him.

"Wow, prison did ya good, huh?" He teased.

"Shut up," Osamu grumbled good-naturedly. He buckled his seat belt abs rested his elbow on the window sill, chin in his palm while he stared. "Where are we goin'?" He asked when Aran pulled out of the parking lot.

"Up to you. We can either do the bank, your apartment or... the columbarium."

Osamu lifted his head off his hand.

"Columbarium?" He repeated. Aran didn't look at him but it was clear there was more to say. "I didn't even get to go to the cremation. Who collected the bones or even paid—?"

"About that," Aran murmured. "Did you hear about your mom?" Osamu furrowed his brow. "She... she passed about a few years ago but she had been stuck in the hospital for a while—you didn't know?"

"No..." Osamu's hands fell into his lap.

"I didn't mean to ruin the mood," Aran apologized. Osamu shook his head.