It became a common occurrence for the normally relaxed Mikoto to fill his cell with noise late at night. No one ever brought it up with him, assuming it was something he didn't want to mention, but they all thought of it.

The crashes would fill the facility, rattles of restraints, tugs of straps, rumbles of beaten metal. It most certainly was a concern to you, the guard of the prison. Each and every time, no matter how regular the occurrence, it concerned you. He had never mentioned any cause before this, what could it be?

And so you decided one day to watch him, to monitor this odd nightly rampage. 'Mikoto' pulled and tugged at the iron bars of his cell, hoping they would fold, he pulled at his sheets until they nearly tore, he thrashed at the walls. The same walls that he would often say were deteriorating, as if rotting. Was he unaware that he himself was the rot?

But then, you watched something odd happen. 'Mikoto' stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, staring forward with no thoughts in his head in a way that seemed unsettling. You thought he may have even died stood upright, and then he seemed to move again. This time, he seemed much different.

He groaned and murmered something about his head hurting. It actually sound like Mikoto now. He seemed almost shameful as he then moved to the bed of his cell, examining the tears and frays in it with, not surprise, but disappointment, pulling them over him, saying some name as he did.

It was the way someone would react after seeing the result of someone else's actions. What could possibly be the cause of this. Could it be Disassociative Identity Disorder, was he just insane, or bluffing? It would be hard to tell without asking, without saying something.

But, now, he seemed so tired and drained. So much so that you felt that you should perhaps do nothing, at least for now. Maybe you should wait, it wouldn't hurt, right? He'd probably get more stressed if he couldn't get any sleep. This version of him seemed to want sleep anyway.