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Kiji tapped his foot impatiently as he waited in the hallway.
Honestly, it was almost the middle of the night, how come the transfer was taking this long?
He’d been waiting here for over an hour for his newest inmate to be brought in from Strangeday Hall. His poor, beautiful Cell 6 were probably getting restless waiting for him to return with their new member.
Hani hadn’t taken the news too well that they were going to have another person in their cell, pouting unhappily even when Kiji had offered to let him use the bathroom first the next morning. Still, it was understandable; that child had a routine he liked, and was wary when something new came along and disrupted his pattern.
That was of the reason no. 0341 and no. 0319 had to be moved out after two weeks and a month respectively in Cell 6. The arguments between them and Hani over living arrangements just became too much to bear.
Trois had promised to be on his best behavior and look after his new cell mate, the darling, but he always did that. Even when the pretty face turned out to be an awful lout, like no. 0396, Trois was always the bigger and more beautiful man and came to his supervisor rather than sink to their level.
Still, Kiji supposed, at least those inmates were good-looking enough to get into Cell 6 in the first place. The number of times he’d been told a new inmate would be good-looking, only for them to be slightly above average in person, made him want to scream.
Hopefully, there would be no such problems with Johnny Powers, no. 07, when he arrived.
If he ever arrived that is.
Finally, the buzzer on the door to the outside sounded. The massive steel contraption opened, and a pair of guards marched the new inmate in.
“At last! What took you so long to get him here?! Don’t you know I hate to be kept waiting?!” He scolded them.
One of the guards saluted. “Apologies Supervisor Mitsuba, sir! The transfer ship ran into rough conditions and its arrival was delayed. It only arrived five minutes ago, sir!”
He sighed. “Well, I suppose that can’t be helped, no matter how annoying it is…” and turned to examine at his new inmate.
Kiji’s first reaction was disappointment.
He’d been told no. 07 had the looks of an angel. This child’s features were fairly delicate and soft, but the awful, awful haircut he sported almost ruined the whole image! Long in the sides and stupidly short in the back to accommodate for the large “7” tattoo, who had ever thought cutting in bangs almost at his hairline was a good idea?! Seriously, Kiji thought he could see flecks of red where whoever had done this got too close to the boy’s ears!
The “7” looked fairly raw as well, as though the tattoo had just been done recently. That might explain the partial blotchiness of the boy’s face and the prominent bags under his eyes if he had been crying during the procedure.
Kiji felt like he would cry if he had been given such an atrocious haircut as well.
“Johnny Powers, inmate no. 07?”
“Y-yes sir.” His Japanese, though heavily-accented, was accurate and added to his “foreign” appeal at least.
The look of abject terror on his face wasn’t particularly attractive though. His eyes were large enough without fear widening them to such an unsettling degree, staring up at the supervisor like a mouse pinned under a hawk’s gaze.
The child trembled violently under Kiji’s scrutiny, little hands clenched into white fists at his sides. When the supervisor reached out to grab one, the boy flinched away from the gesture, cringing in fear as though he expected a blow to come.
Kiji blinked. He had thought corporal punishment was banned in juvenile detention centers in the United Kingdom.
But, then again, Powers was a special case. The youngest and most prominent gang leader in London’s criminal underground, only recently recaptured after violently breaking out of Strangeday Hall and murdering a fairly incompetent private eye in a smuggling bust gone wrong.
The idea that some of the guards at Strangeday might want to repay the thirteen-year-old for the casualties of his escape, while repulsive and a breach of conduct to the Supervisor of Building 3, was not entirely out of the question. There were not any visible bruises, but it had been a few weeks since he had left that facility, so any that were inflicted there probably would have healed by now.
There was some arguement in his file over whether Powers was truly the mastermind behind the violent subjugation of nearly all of his rival gangs in England and abroad, or if he was simply a puppet leader for the less promienet adult members of his organization (including his own mother), who could offer him up as a convenient scapegoat should the need arise.
Based on the shuddering and teary-eyed child before him, Kiji was becoming more and more inclined to agree with the latter assessment. He reached out again, slowly this time, and gently took 07’s hand in his own, peeling the fist open with little resistance.
His nails were unpainted and had clearly never seen a manicure before in their existence. They weren’t bitten short, thank goodness, (Kiji could never stand nail-biters), but the uneven edges and hangnails showed that they had never been cared for as they should either.
The supervisor of Building 3 considered his options briefly.
No. 07, while not the cherub the reports had promised, was just good-looking enough to qualify for Cell 6.
If Kiji were to take him under his wing, he could easily keep an eye on the boy and monitor him for signs of sociopathy (if he truly was the one in control of his gang) or mental abuse (if he was more of a puppet than first suspected).
If he decided to place him in another cell, or send him to another building, he could maintain his high standards for his beautiful Cell 6 and save himself some stress in dealing with a potentially troublesome inmate. But he would not have as much access to view the child’s day-to-day mental state as he would if he kept the boy in the cell he personally oversaw.
The monkey probably would not be interested in adding an unrelated— and possible rival— gang member to his mostly rehabilitated collection.
The dog spent most of his time down in solitary keeping the combusting inmate company, and Kiji was not sure the actual dogs he employed would be much help if the boy had a psychotic episode or a mental breakdown.
If no. 07 were placed in Building 13 on reassignment…well, the gorilla was known for his brutality more than his delicacy when handling his inmates. Plus the inmates themselves…
Kiji sighed. The things he did for beauty. “My name is Kiji Mitsuba. I am supervisor of Building 3 here at Nanba Prison, and will be personally overseeing your rehabilitation in Cell 6. Nice to meet you, no.0307.”
The boy gulped and bowed his head. “I-it is n-nice to meet y-you too, S-supervisor Mitsuba-San.”
Well, at least the child knew how to be properly respectful in Japanese, even if his speech was a bit formal.
“Now!” Kiji clapped his hands together, making 0307 jump. “While your hair seems to be completely unsalvageable until it grows out a little more, we’ll have to focus on bringing out your natural qualities that whoever committed this crime against beauty tried to hide. You’re part of the beautiful Cell 6 now, and like it or not, we beautiful people have an image to maintain in order to shine for those around us.”
The fear in 0307’s face slackened a bit, as surprise began seeping into his features for some reason. “…y-You actually think I’m b-beautiful, sir?”
Kiji raised an eyebrow. Of all the reactions he had been expecting, that had not been one of them. Most of his inmates knew how beautiful they were and exactly how to flaunt their good looks. Had 0307 never been told about how people idolized his looks to the point of exaggeration?
The disbelief in the child’s expression and words wasn’t explained by that alone though. It was almost as though 0307 believed himself to be average—or even ugly.
Kiji’s decision was steeled. Of all the crimes he could not forgive, forcing a beautiful person to believe that they were not was one that really set his blood boiling. “Of course! Only beautiful people are allowed to enter Cell 6, and you definitely fit the criteria! We just need to tidy you up a bit before introducing you to the your new cellmates, and then you’ll be perfect.”
Shock consumed the boy’s features. Then, like a rose opening its petals to the sun, he blushed. “T-thank you very much, Supervisor Mitsuba-San.”
“Please, Mitsuba-San is my father. Call me Kiji.” The guard smiled, and opened the door to the rest of the prison. “0307 is a bit of a mouthful though. You deserve something much cuter…how about “Nana”?“
0307 paused and mouthed the name to himself. "I-I think I would like that very much, Kiji-San.”
“Nana-chan it is then. What color would you like for your nails, blue or brown?” The third inmate of Cell 6 eagerly followed Kiji through the door, looking a little less scared than he had before.