Mondo Owada was a name spoken like a curse or a legend, depending on which side you were on. He was one of the most ruthless generals on the front lines. Rumour had it that he’d snapped someone’s neck with one hand. Others swore he took down an entire unit before they finally cornered him. Now, he was slouched on a bench in his cell, blood crusting over one brow, looking mildly annoyed more than anything.

Light footsteps stopped right in front of his cell, and Mondo looked up to see a young man in a white uniform. His posture was so stiff that Mondo couldn't help but chuckle.

“You’re the one they sent to babysit me?” Mondo's voice was laced with mockery. Did they think a Private would be enough to keep him locked up?

Kiyotaka snapped. “I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru, your guard. You will remain silent unless permitted to speak. Any attempts to—”

“You ever even fired that thing?” He cut in, tilting his head toward the rifle Kiyotaka was holding. Kiyotaka flinched. Mondo's eyes never left him, as if challenging the man to do something.