Right in front of the door, guarding the gym entrance, was an inmate. Tsuyoi couldn't tell if he was from the Vermelhos or just a gangless guy, because the Vermelhos did not wear or use anything to show their gang. King believed this was the way for true union.
"Boss is in there. You can't go in." The inmate crossed his arms. He was tall, broad, and muscular. His back alone acted like the door itself.
"Dude, I'm just going to talk to the guy." Tsuyoi gave a baffled chuckle, shaking his head.
"Nah. He said that nobody outside the gang can enter."
"I told you not to call me that." King placed a hand on the man's shoulder and smiled. "And don't worry. He's welcome here."
King, for starters, didn't look like a king. His height was close to Tsuyoi's, if not a few centimeters taller. He had long wavy red hair with a small ponytail. He wore the jumpsuit like everyone else. He was leaner than Tsuyoi had expected. His eyes were so small that they were almost impossible to see.
"Come on." As the big guy opened the way, Tsuyoi followed King into the gym. "So where is King?" Tsuyoi looked around.
"You're looking at him." He lay under the bench press machine and started to lift the weights. "Why? Don't I look the part?" King chuckled.
"Not really…" The first thing that Tsuyoi noticed was that he didn't feel like he was talking to a 'King', which was a bit ironic. No crowd and no one even looking at them. Just people minding their business.
"Tracy told me about you. Sailing with a Golden Age legend, let alone Infamy himself, is no small feat," he said between reps. At the mention of his past, Tsuyoi looked away. "Yeah."
"Anywho." He finished his set, placed the bar back in place, and straightened up. "What brings you here? You worried about tomorrow?"
"Kind of." Tsuyoi scratched the top of his head. "I'm not really scared. I just don't know what I'll get myself into."
"That's normal." King wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel. "Don't expect a full-on war. The only thing different on the weekends is that everyone has a shit ton of paranoia."
"Huh? I don't follow."
"Come on, sit." King scooted over to make space for Tsuyoi, and he sat. "Think of this prison as a street with 4 houses side by side, separated by fences. The dogs bark at each other through the fences all week, and when the fences drop, they fight. And that's where we, the gang leaders, come into play. Think of us as the owners of the dogs."
A vein popped on Tsuyoi's forehead as he forced himself not to take it literally. "This thinking thing… hurts…"
"Holy shit, he is forming a thought!" one of the inmates said in shock.
"Come on, you got this!" King patted his back.
"AGH!" Tsuyoi yelled, finally understanding what King was actually trying to say. "You just made a metaphor! You're not actually calling us dogs, right?!"
"Bingo!" King smiled. "What I'm saying is that we keep everyone in check so there is no endless, unnecessary bloodshed. A leader has many things they need to consider before going into war. Their strategy, numbers, power, and, most importantly, their punishment. People die here all the time, and the leaders must face the consequences of their orders even if they are not the person getting punished."
"I don't want to sit and just wait it out. I don't play like that." Tsuyoi stood up. "I'm not your subordinate, y'know? You don't even seem that strong."
"Everybody has their own flags to carry. If that is how you do it, I'll respect it for now." King smiled, almost in a mocking manner, as if he found Tsuyoi's naivete hilarious.
"Flag?"
"Power isn't just punching people, Tsuyoi…" Every eye inside the gym was now directed at him, the air becoming denser than before. "It's about being the one that carries the flag people rally behind. My dream is to achieve total union and equality inside this prison, for everyone to smile and carry their sentences in peace… I must be the one carrying the flag."
And just like that, Tsuyoi's understanding of what power was seemed brittle compared to King's flag.
"Don't worry about the other divisions. As long as I am the one carrying the flag, Q3 will not fall."
The prisoners returned to what they were doing, but that didn't make the air any more breathable. "So what do you say?" King offered a handshake. "Will you follow me?"
"..." Tsuyoi stared at King's hand, then scoffed.
"Nah." Tsuyoi turned around and went for the exit. "I hate bastards who hide behind their flags."
King was caught off guard, and his smile dropped, but it returned quickly. "Alright, Tsuyoi. Have it your way."
Bored, Tsuyoi entered his cell and found Loco sleeping. He lay down to do the same, but his sleep was interrupted by a knock from the guards. "PE-1991, you have a visitor."
"Huh?" Tsuyoi yawned, groaned, and got up. He left his cell and followed the guards out of the main facility, where he was blindfolded and escorted to the place of the visit.
When the blindfold was removed, he gasped. His brows furrowed in anger mixed with fear. Behind the glass was Erik Eishelm himself. "Hello, Tsuyoi."
"You bastard…" Tsuyoi clenched his fists and stopped himself from lunging at the glass. "You enjoy this, don't you?!"
"Calm down. I'm not here to torment you like before, trust me." Erik leaned back and crossed his arms. "Excuse us for a minute," Erik said to the two guards behind Tsuyoi.
"I'm sorry, sir. Because of procedu–" Without giving the guard a chance to make an excuse, Erik stared him down and kept his soft, kind smile. "I wasn't asking. I don't enjoy the rats of Biznes listening to our conversation."
At the mention of the name, the guards froze, immediately left the room, and apologised.
"Annoying. Everyone and their mother keeps taking bribes." Erik rolled his eyes.
"Biznes? Who the hell is that? And why are you here if not to torment me?"
"You'll learn later. And as to why I am here…" Erik sighed. "...Do you know what pragmatism is, Tsuyoi?"
"I do, but remind me anyway." Tsuyoi tried to relax and leaned back as well.
"Mutual benefit. You may hate me, but you cannot deny that I can help you a lot. But there are also some things you can help me with. If you help me, I will help you."
"Help you?" Tsuyoi raised an eyebrow. "I don't care what you offer me. I won't help a scumbag like you."
"Geez, have some sympathy for an old guy like me." Erik laughed.
"Old guy? Aren't you like… thirty?"
"I'm 42, but bless your heart." Erik leaned further and locked his eyes onto Tsuyoi, almost staring into his soul. "So you're saying that no matter what, you won't help me. Is that really what you mean?"
"Damn right." Tsuyoi crossed his arms in defiance. "No matter what."
"Hm. That's interesting because…" Erik placed a hand on his chin. "I think you'd change your mind if I told you who and where Meizou Haiya is."
Just hearing the name of that person made him flinch and stand upright. Every molecule of cocky rebellion disappeared, replaced by a desperate, pathetic expectation. "You know where that psychopath is?"
"Now that's better." Erik chuckled. "Of course, I do. He isn't really the type to lie low anyway. I can tell you everything about him and even help you take your revenge. But I want something in exchange."
"I'll do anything." He clenched his fists once more, his lips trembling in anger. "I can't die without choking that bastard with my own hands."
"I can't tell you everything yet, but just know that Pablo is in trouble. I placed an order so he wouldn't be hunted, but the other commanders ignored that order and are trying to kill him."
"Is he okay?" The anger vanished into worry at the mention of him.
"I can't confirm if he is alive or not. But I need you to help me with something, which will also help Pablo indirectly."
"What is it?" His ears perked up, and he almost kissed the glass because of how close he was.
"Unite the four divisions under one leader." Erik stood up. "Then we'll talk."
"Huh?!" Tsuyoi got up and yelled after Erik just as he was about to leave. "What does that mean?!"
"What part of 'then we'll talk' is so hard to understand?" Erik rolled his eyes and shut the door without even glancing at Tsuyoi to respond.
"Damn it." Tsuyoi sat down in defeat and let out a long, exhausted groan. "Politics suck."