In the box (BoyXBoy)

In the Box. Pt. 2

Douno was intent on finding the man to whom his parents had paid a staggering three million yen. That man had clawed the money from them at a time when they were already suffering so much because of Douno's situation. Douno was incensed, but he had no idea who it could be. His parents and his sister were the only people who knew which prison he was in. As long as the three of them remained silent, no one else was supposed to have known.
While mulling over the different possibilities, Douno wondered suddenly if it may have been Mitsuhashi. But Mitsuhashi was neither short nor fat. Those physical features were hard to disguise; the man could not be him. Then who was it? Douno thought night and day of the man who had stolen three million from his parents.
Sewing at work about three days after his mother had come to see him, Douno caught himself trying to put the upper thread where the bobbin was supposed to go. The mistake jarred his nerves, but he figured it was just because he was lost in thought. But while fixing a spot he had sewed accidentally, Douno grabbed a pair of scissors thinking he was reaching for a seam ripper, and did not realize his mistake until he had cut a chunk of the cloth clean off. The succession of mistakes that he normally never made scared Douno and made him feel as if he were losing his mind. He knew that if he kept thinking about the three million, it would get to him. But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, every free moment he had, he found his thoughts gravitating back to it again.
After supper, Douno opened a borrowed book as usual. But he could not get past a single line. Who tricked my parents?―the thought circled round and round inside his head.
"Douno." Douno winced at being called, and looked up.
"Tomorrow's laundry day. You'll be putting your socks out for the wash, right?" Shiba waved a scrap of paper in his right hand. "If you're not gonna hand them in now, you'll have to put them in the laundry bag yourself tomorrow morning. I'll fill in your Laundry Request Slip in advance. Personal articles, right?"
"Yes."
Shiba gathered everyone's socks, bunched them with string, and put them in the laundry bag. Douno was overcome by an impulse to ask Shiba, not because Shiba had initiated the conversation, but because Douno was desperate to ask anyone who would listen.
"Um―"
Shiba turned around. "Don't wanna put it in the wash?" he asked, tilting his head.
"No... I... I wasn't talking about laundry. I wanted to ask you something."
"What is it?" Shiba placed the laundry bag down on the tatami mat.
"Normally, only your family would know which prison you're in, right?"
"No one else would know unless you tell them."
"I guess..." Douno lapsed into silence, just as Kumon came butting in.
"What? What is it? Something happen?"
"No, it's not much..." Douno answered vaguely. He tried to change the topic, but Kumon and Shiba questioned him so persistently, he found himself opening his mouth again.
"Someone claiming to be my old friend visited my parents. He told them he was in the police department, and that he'd make arrangements for me. My parents went ahead and gave him a token of gratitude, even though―"
"Uhhh, 'token of gratitude'?" Kakizaki asked in a drawl. Kumon smacked him in the back of the head.
"Money, idiot. Cash."
"I see," Shiba said quietly, and gave Kumon a pointed look. Kumon also gave a furtive glance in Shiba's direction.
"Douno, you know it's against the rules here to tell anyone your address, or give someone else's address out." Shiba's voice was sombre.
"...I know."
"Did you tell someone?"
Mitsuhashi crossed his mind.
"Did you tell Mitsuhashi?" Kumon asked. Douno felt his heart jump.
"But it can't be Mitsuhashi," he protested. "The man that came to my house was short and heavyset. He and Mitsuhashi are completely different body types."
"Hmm," Shiba said as he crossed his arms. "Mitsuhashi is out on parole, right? If he gets caught doing something bad during that time, his sentence will be doubled. He's a smart one, so I can't imagine him crossing such a dangerous line."
"I think it's Mitsuhashi," Kumon said as he leaned across the table. "Your sentence's short, Douno, so you'll get out while he's still on parole. He wouldn't be able to pull that stunt once you got out, so he did it now. Maybe he got someone to do it for him, so it wouldn't be traced back."
"Ah, I didn't think about that," Shiba murmured.
As Douno listened to Shiba and Kumon talking, he too began to feel like it really had been Mitsuhashi. But the last thing he wanted to do was be suspicious of a man he had opened his heart to.
"But Mitsuhashi told me," he insisted. "He said he was under false charges, too. He was planning for us to file a lawsuit together after I got out."
"Mitsuhashi, under false charges? Bullshit," Kumon spat. "He's a fraud down to his bones. He was bragging about raking in cash from old people who live alone by doing door-to-door sales."
Douno felt like someone had pulled a black curtain over his eyes. So Mitsuhashi had not been falsely accused. They had not shared the same predicament after all. What had he meant when he said he wanted to fight together when Douno was released from prison? He vividly recalled his conversations with Mitsuhashi. Was he lying when he said he operated a trading company, and that he could speak foreign languages? Were his earnest attitude, his sympathetic nod, his words―"oh, I know", "of course, I understand"―all lies?
Come to think of it, the only times Mitsuhashi ever spoke about himself were when they were alone together at lunch or during exercise period. Since Mitsuhashi had mentioned not telling anyone about being false accused, Douno figured he had not wanted to be overheard by the rest of the inmates. But now that he thought about it, perhaps Mitsuhashi's secrecy was to avoid being overheard and exposed. When he left, he had also not told Douno his address. Perhaps he was lying about having no arrangements―perhaps he had intended not to tell Douno all along. One straight line connected every incident with the truth. Douno gaped in disbelief at the knots in the table, unable to close his mouth. He had been tricked.
Shiba came around behind him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Mitsuhashi was a bastard, but you weren't careful enough, either, Douno. There are a lot of cases like that, where trusting inmates exchange addresses with each other, and one ends up being cheated by the guy who gets out first."
"I don't believe it," Douno whispered. He balled his hands into fists on the tatami mat and gritted his teeth. A despair more arresting than what he felt at the moment of his conviction overtook his body. Boiling wrath made him shake from head to toe.
"I'll―I'll take him to court!" He sprang up and reached for the buzzer to call the guard over, but was intercepted by Shiba.
"You have no proof," Shiba said firmly. "Even if you file a claim in court, all Mitsuhashi has to say is that he has no idea, and that'll be the end of it. You, on the other hand, will be sent to solitary for unlawful communication because you told him your address. It'll affect your parole."
Douno sank back down onto the tatami mat. He knew who was responsible, yet he could do nothing. It was his own fault, yet he could do nothing.
"You've told your parents to file a complaint, haven't you? All you can do now is wait."
But if Mitsuhashi was not caught―if he got away―Douno would have no choice but to admit defeat. Tears rolled down his face at the realization. His parents had already been pushed to the margins of the society by the fact that their son was in prison; Mitsuhashi had added insult to injury by further syphoning three million yen from them. But Douno was even more angry that the man had used his trust to make money. Fiend, thief, burglar, liar... liar.... Douno slowly raised his head. He caught the expressionless man in a corner of his eye and lunged at him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt.
"Oh―hey! Come on!" Shiba hastily pried Douno off Kitagawa.
"You knew!" Douno accused. "You knew Mitsuhashi was going to―to trick me out of my money. Didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
Kitagawa remained expressionless at Douno's angry outburst.
"Douno, lower your voice," Shiba warned. "If the guard comes―"
Douno ignored him. "Answer me!" he bellowed. Kitagawa smoothed the crumpled spot on his shirt where Douno had grabbed him, and gave a short exhale.
"I don't know anything." His voice was flat. "I don't know anything about it. I just told you that Mitsuhashi is a liar because that's what he is."
The bell rang, signalling rest period before lights-out. At the same time, the window facing the hallway opened with a bang, the guard's face appearing through the bars.
"Hey! What's this noise about?" he barked.
Shiba stepped forward.
"I'm sorry," he said as he bowed his head. "I think the TV was turned up too high. We'll turn it down."
Deep creases appeared between the guard's eyebrows as he twisted his face into a scowl.
"You should know that television hours start after nineteen o'clock and only after nineteen o'clock. Are you saying you turned on the TV before designated hours?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Shiba apologized. "My daughter is sprinting in the national championships today. They're being held in Kobe, and I was worried about the weather."
Evidently the words "daughter" and "national championships" had some effect on the guard, for he let them off with nothing more than a warning.
"I don't care what reason it is," he snapped. "Watching television is forbidden outside of designated hours. Don't make me remind you again."
After the guard left, the other four cellmates began to fold up the table, lay out their futons, and change into their pyjamas. Douno remained sitting on the floor in a trance. He knew he was being spoken to, but could not move. Shiba laid his futon out for him.
"Get your ass moving and change, or we'll get into trouble again," Kumon hissed. Douno finally changed into his pyjamas. "Don't forget to fold your uniform," Kumon added. "Look, I know you're in shock at being frauded, but our cell is going to lose TV privileges if we gets points docked because of you, alright?"
Douno folded his discarded uniform and slipped into his futon. Suddenly, a wave of tears surged from the depths of his body. He was fraught with guilt towards his parents―guilt and shame that such an enormous sum had been stolen because of his own carelessness. He cursed the wicked man who had tricked him. If curses could kill, he thought fervently, all the while mentally damning the man to hell. Vermin like Mitsuhashi did not deserve to live. Douno felt like he could give his life for the opportunity to escape and kill Mitsuhashi, or to have someone kill him in exchange.
Douno sank his teeth into his pillow to resist the urge to scream. He attacked the pillow again and again, as if he intended to tear it apart with his teeth. His jaw began to feel numb and his pillow turned sticky with saliva. He did not even notice Kumon and Kakizaki giving him disturbed looks.
His mind filled with the same words: "I hate him", "I want to kill him"―and somewhere in the midst of it, fleetingly, "I want to die". He wished he could. He had not only brought hardship upon his sister and parents, but he had done it twice, three times over. He attracted trouble merely by living. He knew he ought to disappear.
Douno dozed a little around dawn. It was the start of another normal day, yet he felt as if someone had wrapped a thin membrane around his mind. He felt only the vaguest sense that he was alive.
Douno did not touch his breakfast. Even after heading out to the factory and beginning his work, he felt absent-minded. Staring at the straight stitches made him feel like he was an unfeeling machine. He left his lunch untouched, and at supper, he sat without even bothering to take a pair of chopsticks from the box.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Shiba asked him. Douno did not care to answer.
When rest period came around, Douno immediately got into his futon. He spewed curses at Mitsuhashi mentally, loathed himself for being stupid enough to be tricked, and contemplated the ways he could die.
Even dying was a challenge in prison. He could not do it in his group cell, for one. He thought of applying for a solitary cell, but had heard that applications by fourth-class inmates would not even be considered. He wondered if he could go to the washroom during work and hang himself there. He did not remember there being any rafters he could tie a rope to, so he decided he would check tomorrow.
Once he decided that he would kill himself, Douno felt a little better. But when he thought about the fact that he was going to die for a man like Mitsuhashi, the base of his stomach burned with anger and frustration. However, he always came back to the thought that death would free him of this suffering, too―forever. Thus he settled on the decision that he did want to die after all.
The next morning, Douno ate just two bites of breakfast. He headed to the factory, and during his morning break he went to the washroom only to be disappointed. There were no rafters or nails he could hang a rope from. He thought of biting his own tongue, but did not have the courage to do it immediately. He also wanted to leave a will.
Douno ate half of his lunch before putting his chopsticks down. After cleaning up his dishes, he approached the bookshelf, but did not feel the urge to read anything. He saw no point in it anymore. He gazed reflectively at his surroundings in the small cafeteria while feeling a touch of futility at the idea that his life's last moments would be inside a prison.
Somebody was approaching him. It was Natsuki, a man in his fifties who lived in the cell across from him. He smelled badly. It had gotten better with the arrival of winter, but when Douno had first come to prison, the man had reeked of vomit.
"Howdy, Douno," Natsuki said. Douno only remembered speaking a handful of words with the man. They were not close at all. Douno inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. Natsuki smirked.
"So I heard Mitsuhashi screwed you out of a lot of money."
Douno could feel the saliva pass through his throat. It made a loud gurgle. How did Natsuki know? Douno had only told the members of his own cell.
"Who did you hear that from?"
Natsuki stuck a pinkie into his right nostril and dug a wad of something out.
"Kakizaki, the idiot. Said you're so done in you look like you're about to die." Natsuki guffawed, then whispered with stinking breath into Douno's ear. "The guy was telling me what a naive and straight-laced kid you are. He figured your prim-and-proper parents would have money saved up. Who'da known he'd be right on?"
"Y―You knew about this?"
"You bet I knew. He told me personally not to lay my hands on his prey."
Douno's balled fists were shaking.
"You could have warned me, at least," he said quietly. "Thanks to him, my parents are..."
Natsuki scoffed and hunched his shoulders.
"Why the hell should I care about your parents? You can blame yourself for getting reeled in."
Natsuki turned his back, apparently satisfied that he had said what he had come to say. In the next instant, Douno found himself grabbing Natsuki by the back of his collar. He forced the man to turn around, and swung a fist straight at his face. A dull crack resounded. The man staggered and fell over onto his back. Douno straddled him. As the man's face twisted in fear, Douno slugged him over and over.
"Douno, stop it!" Shiba grabbed him by the armpits from behind, but Douno wrestled free. As Natsuki tried to crawl away, Douno dragged him back by his ankles, took hold of the man's head and smashed it against the floor.
"The hell do you think you're doing?" bellowed a guard, appearing in a flash. The emergency alarm went off. Four guards came running, and in a manner of moments, they had restrained Douno's arms and legs.
"Let go! Let go of me!" Douno kept shouting until a towel was shoved into his mouth. When he continued to struggle, the guards mercilessly kicked him in the back and stomach. The pain made his breath catch and his movements stop. The guards took the chance to drag him out of the cafeteria.
Douno was taken to the interrogation room, where he was stripped of his factory uniform, underwear and all. He was changed into something that resembled a lab coat and a pair of underwear with an open seam in the crotch. Next, he was outfitted with a type of leather belt with leather wrist restraints, which secured his right hand behind him and his left hand in front. When he would not stop yelling, he was also muzzled with some kind of material.
Douno was half-dragged by two guards to the basement, and thrown into an empty room only about three square metres in area. All the walls were lined with a soft sponge-like material. The floor was linoleum, like an old hospital. Douno continued to scream through his gag, banging his head against the walls and floor numerous times as he tumbled around, until he finally stretched out, exhausted. Only then did he realize that he was in some kind of "secure cell".
Once the inferno of his rage had passed, he was overwhelmed by listlessness and powerlessness. Douno pressed his face against the linoleum floor and wept. Mucus and tears ran freely from his nose and eyes, but since his arms were secured he could not even wipe his face. Soon, exhausted from weeping too, he passed out into a deep sleep.
He did not know how long he had been asleep for―but he awoke to a violent chill and a strong urge to urinate. There was nothing in the room which resembled a toilet; there was only a single hole in the floor about ten centimetres wide in the right corner of the room. Douno remembered someone mentioning that the toilet in a secure cell was just a hole. He walked over to the hole and squatted down, and his penis slid out from the open seam in his underwear. Without his hands, it was hard to aim his penis. As he fumbled, soon he could not hold it in anymore; he ended up wetting the floor around the hole and even splashed a little of his foot. His feeling of despair worsened, and Douno curled up like a cat in a corner of the room. He wanted to die. He had been planning to. Why did it have to end up like this?
Douno did not want to think of anything. But in this empty space, there was nothing he could do other than think.