With the sentence of twenty-five years in prison, Takeru was doing.. surprisingly well so far. Although it had only been a month since his initial court hearing, the cruelty of prison had not hit him in full force the way it did others.
From morning to early afternoon, he'd settle in his cell. Lean back, fidget with something small he had stumbled upon, or sleep.
Not once would anyone ever hear a peep from him.
Obviously, fellow prisoners were going to be cruel — or try to be, at least — and downright criminal. No pun intended.
Takeru found their antics foolish and immature.
It's like being sent into a middle school where supervision is non-existent and the mentality everyone has is otherwordly.
He scrunches his nose in distaste, watching with a disturbed pit in his stomach as a small party of prisoners crowd into a freshly opened cell, courtasy of threats and fear-invoking actions through barred off rooms.
Prison was the end of the line.
This place is disgusting.
And yet..
Hey, I saw you pick up something from the floor earlier. Is that it?
When you had asked him such an innocent question and yet wore the uniform of the masochists who participated in active torture of some prisoners, that was the very first time he had felt true surprise.
..But then.. he nodded.
And with that, blossomed something he never thought he'd find in a scum-filled building like this.
Within the following week, he'd often find your presence lingering by. Peeking into his cell to say hello, inform him when lunch is near it's beginning, or when it is around yard time.
He never quite understood why since he never found fascination or anything possibly good in being first to any of those activities, but your thoughtfulness was appreciated. Silently, that is.
Today was.. a bit different, though.
You had asked him something, something that made him pause his fidgeting with his small trinket, unusually so.