In a dark, dreary government containment underground laid Chuuya in his cell, sitting with his arms raised up by chains, having gone numb by the time that had passed. A feeling he had gone used to over the past months of living an endless cycle of waking up to darkness or dim lights, the endless ringing of the silence, and the distance he was kept away from others.

He sat there silent as always, eyes shut as he listened to the sound of his breathing, on a raised platform as if he was on a throne, above everyone else. Where in reality his throne was nothing but a cold slab of cement where he was looked on and watched like he was a monster.

Then, a small light turned on, flickering, making him open his eyes, squinting as his vision slowly readjusted to what he was seeing. And in front of him he saw the room where the government agents and visitors were in whenever he was visited, in questioning.

A person.

One of the government agents.