Beastars: A Symphony of Life

Chapter 85: Interrogation

Shoji sat in the room twiddling his thumbs. As he had for days now. It was becoming routine. Wake up in the cell, eat the swill they called food, get handcuffed(not in the good way) and dragged to the interrogation room where they tried to get him to talk. He wouldn't say anything and then get dragged back to the cell, eat the swill they called food and then fall asleep. Currently, he had something in between his teeth that was annoying him. His tongue, as crafty as it was, couldn't pick or pull it out. His hands were chained down to the table and he couldn't reach his hands up to his mouth to use his claws. It was starting to drive him mildly mad.

The door to the room opened and he looked up, perking his ear slightly at the sound. A white horse with a single black patch over her eye stood there like a statue. Two cups of tea in her hands. She stared at him with eyes of subdued uncomfortableness. This was going to be fun.

"Are you the next cop in the long never ending line of good-cop, bad-cop routine?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I'm just here to talk."

The two stared at each other.

"It is tedious to do the same things over and over again," he said. "If this is just a chat, come on in. Stop holding up the door."

The horse blinked as if coming out of a daze. She walked forward and put the two cups down on the table between them. She then pulled out a key and a can of mace. She placed the can on the edge of the table, closest to her clearly dominant hand.

"If you try anything," she said.

Shoji raised his hands eagerly. They stopped short as the metal bit into his wrists.

"Believe me," he grimaced. "Anything to get out of these infernal chains. I'll lie on my back and let you pet my stomach."

"That won't be necessary," the horse said, quickly undoing the locks.

Shoji rubbed his wrists and eyed the mace can. He made a feign attempt to go for her mace to gauge her speed. She was fast. Her hand was on it before he froze in his fake out. They locked eyes and he smiled, easing the air a little.

"Just checking," he sneered. He reached his pinky up to his teeth and picked the food from between them. That was relieving.

"So," she said, slowly sitting down. "Shoji Sazama. You have quite the record."

"Oh please," he jeered. "I'm not the only one with a drug and prostitute record. The two usually go hand in hand actually."

"Those are some wicked scars," she said, nodding to the cuts along his forearms.

"Self-inflicted," he said. "Nothing special."

He reached for one of the cups and held it to his lips. He noticed something under her sleeves as he sipped.

"I showed you mine," he said, putting it down. "Now show me yours."

The horse paused in her sipping, looking at him. He raised an eyebrow and she uncomfortably set her own cup down. She rolled up her sleeve to reveal a single, small cut.

"Emo phase?" he asked, slightly teasing.

"No," she said very seriously, rolling the sleeve back up. "My father tried to kill me in a schizophrenic psychosis. I got that from defending my mother when he attacked her with a kitchen-knife, believing her to be the devil incarnate and I was the anti-rexx."

"Hmm," Shoji humphed. "How do I know you're not lying? I'm sure you're just trying to relate to me and make me feel comfortable so I spill valuable information-"

"No," she said. "I know nothing about you other than your criminal record. And that really did happen to me."

Shoji stared her dead in the eyes. He didn't detect a single lie there. And he had gotten good at reading a psychopath, so this was a breeze. She was serious. That was true. All of it. He looked down at his scars and traced one from the wrist up his forearm towards his inner elbow.