“Go in,” the Instructor growled, shoving me forward. “I said go in!”
The door slammed shut behind me with a heavy metallic clang.
The room was dry and dimly lit, bunk beds lining both walls. Suddenly, movement. Several figures stepped out of the shadows.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of them growled.
“Tough guy uh?” another sneered.
“Shit, this loser already got beat up. Hehehe,” a third one laughed.
My face was still covered in bandages and patches. My hands too. Even my forehead was wrapped. It hurt when I swallowed. I kept my head down and walked slowly, ignoring my new cellmates. In this baby prison.
“Hey, motherfucker! I asked you a question. Show some respect to your senpais!” One of them grabbed my arm.
I let him yank me forward, then snapped my head straight into his nose.
White-hot pain exploded across my scalp.
The others swarmed me instantly. I landed one punch. They landed three. I kicked once and ended up on the floor. A leg whistled past my ear—I tilted my head just in time. I lunged, grabbed the nearest leg, and bit down hard.
“Arghhh!”
They kept stomping and swinging. I tasted blood—mine or his, I couldn’t tell.
The next thing I remember was instructors rushing in, voices shouting. Someone dragged me out by the collar.
After a quick, messy patch-up in the infirmary, they moved me to isolation—a tiny concrete room with nothing but a cold bed and rough walls. I flopped onto the thin mattress, closed my eyes, and tried to erase every thought from my head.
The door unlocked.
“It’s time, Taiyou.”
I opened my eyes, completely devoid of life.
“Time for some exercise,” the old man with the big mustache growled. “Move. If you’re good enough to fight, you’re good enough to work.”
Now I was standing in the snow, shovel in hand, digging and throwing heavy clumps of snow and dirt. A row of young guys from different backgrounds lined up beside me, all repeating the same numb, mechanical motion in the freezing December air.
Suddenly the whole line turned, making a loud fuss.
“Phew phew!”
“That’s good…”
“So hot…”
I turned too. A well-dressed woman—sharp, like a high-powered businesswoman or lawyer—strode toward us with confident steps. She wore sleek glasses and heels, arms crossed as she surveyed the group. But what stood out most about her were her nice, sweet, thick legs. She must be a dedicated squat enthusiast. Two tough-looking instructors stood like stone sentinels right behind her.
“Calm down, brutes,” Mustache snarled at us. “Show some respect to the chief.”
That’s the chief?
The woman pulled out a clipboard and began checking names. “These three will be punished for the fight yesterday,” she said in a cold, flat voice.
I didn’t care about anything she was saying. I just kept staring at her sweet thighs, mind blank.
Then—
“Iryoku Taiyou. You.”
I snapped my head up, eyes half-dead.
“You have a second examination for your wounds. Come. I’ll take you there.”
“Hey, why does he get to go with the chief while we stay out in the cold?” some punk shouted.
The old man with the mustache moved fast, jabbing a finger at the kid.
“Good idea. You’ll fill in for him while he’s gone. Now shovel faster—maybe that way you won’t freeze.”
The punk made a face.
I walked unsteadily, eyes locked on the Chief’s sweet lower body as she led the way. The two instructors flanked me like watchdogs, never more than a step behind.
She started reprimanding me as we moved, but I barely registered a word—maybe I just chose not to. Something about acting like a human being, more heavy labor, counselor visits, psychological crap, less freedom… blah blah blah. All I really caught was “punishment.”
My gaze stayed glued to her ass the whole time. Those two perfect buns were begging to sandwich my thick meat patty right between them.
The next day I crashed hard. They fetched me straight from the working area.
“No! I don’t want to!” I shouted, gripping the shovel so tight the wood bit into my palms. “I still need to work—just don’t take me to them! I don’t want to see them! Look, there’s still so much dirt left to shovel. Tell them to come another day… or maybe never!”
I was so scared she had come with them this time.
I spun around and shoveled like a madman, dirt flying everywhere.
The instructors had to physically drag me away. They even radioed Chief Sweet Thighs for backup.
“Move, boy,” she commanded.
At least when her toned bubble butt appeared right in front of me, it gave me one pathetic shred of peace. As she walked, I followed.
That endorphin rush died the second they threw me into the visiting room.
I stayed seated, head hunched so low it almost touched my chest.
Two figures entered the room.
“Iryoku…” My mom walked toward me, a small box in one hand. The other lifted and froze when she took in my state—still wrapped in bandages, now marked with fresh wounds.
“My little boy… are you still hurt?”
Her hand closed around mine, but I turned my face away.
Dad sighed. “Look, son… we all make mistakes. What you did was wrong…” His voice sounded like he was trying to be my friend. “But you won’t be here for long. Just six months. Since this was your first offense—luckily those guys you fought fled as well and it didn’t escalate into more charges.”
“This could hurt your future, but I’ll help you. Once you’re out, I’ll get you a job… so you… can… marry… Alice… and fix all this…”
My body convulsed. I turned to face him, bloodshot eyes blazing. “I WILL NOT!!”
I snapped up too fast. My dad flinched back, and Mom did too, the small box slipping from her hands and hitting the ground. Even though I was still slightly shorter than him, my face was suddenly inches from his.
The door opened and two instructors stepped in.
Dad raised his hand. “Everything is okay, sir. Please leave us. Our son would never hurt us.” There was some doubt in his voice.
The gorillas stayed in the room, arms crossed.
“Iryoku, please… would you consider…” Mom begged. She crouched down, picked up the box, and finally opened it. She set the ruined cake on the table, the words “Happy Birthday” smeared across the crushed frosting.
I turned to the wall, refusing to face them.
“A DNA test. I want a DNA test on that baby. Get me that, or you’re not my parents anymore.” My voice came out deep and cold.
I could feel their eyes on me the entire time.
They both stepped out.
As soon as I saw the crumbled cake still on the table, I slapped it onto the ground.
These people came from time to time to visit me, and every single time I refused their pleas. Once they tried showing me pictures of the ultrasound. I couldn’t even fathom it—I threw that shit to the ground and spat on it.
I rushed to the concrete wall and punched it repeatedly. “AAAAAAAAARRRGH!” Blood oozed from my knuckles. Fucking bitch, fucking bitch, die, die… Her smug face flashed in my mind.
They had to restrain me again.
Until Chief Bouncy Buns appeared once more.
Only then did I calm down, openly staring at her beautiful body…
Nothing else mattered—not the goons holding me up, not these people calling themselves my progenitors.
I lost myself in my perverted thoughts. It was the only place that still felt like mine...
After that, they sent me to a counselor. He spoke in soft, sweet words, trying to sound like he knew me—like he could read my thoughts. I didn’t say anything. I hated his patronizing tone.
Then came the studies. Even in this hole, they still assigned me homework. The teacher kept blabbing bullshit that most of the people here chose to ignore. I just stared at the book, not reading, not looking at anything. I didn’t move at all. I had no will left, and no hope for any future.