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Another day, another desk covered in papers.
Uggghhh…..
It’s days like this that Samon wonders if he should have just stuck to martial arts instead of following his brother into the prison system. He likes helping the people here, there’s no question there, but damn it, he’s not the kind of guy that can just sit still and look through files all day! He is a man of action! And right now, these stupid files are costing him his morning training time!
Maybe I could finish this later? I mean, it’ll cut into practicing with the guys, but I could get my own training in…Wait, is that-
“Number 02! What are you doing in here?!” He reprimands, shocking the inmate that’s carrying a mountain of files.
“Samon! I-um, well…”
“I’m waiting for an explanation!”
“I’d…prefer not to say…” The inmate says, looking at the floor, embarrassed.
“Either you tell me, or you’re getting a strike.”
Realizing the actual consequences over his reputation, the boy begins, “Inori told me it was… ‘File for Your Assistant Supervisor Day,’” eyes still firmly locked on the ground, face breaking out into a blush.
“…And you bought that?”
“Please just send me to solitary confinement.”
Pitying the poor kid, Samon decides to let it go, “Well, technically you were manipulated by an officer, so it wasn’t your fault, so I guess I’ll let you go this time.”
“But I broke-”
“IF you stay behind to clean up after training every day this week.” He really doesn’t deserve to be punished, but with Number 2, you have to give him what he wants or he’ll never let it go.
“Yes! I will make sure to!” He responds, mood finally lightening.
“Good,” Samon acknowledges, getting ready to grab his keys and head out to train.
“Samon? Are you still going to be able to spar with me later today?” The inmate asks while putting the files on a desk, eyes bright and expectant, looking more like a kitten instead of a criminal.
…
Well, he better get back to work.
“Of course, number 02, we’ve been putting it off for too long,” he tells the kid, putting his hand on the inmate’s shoulder and squeezing.
He’s caught off guard by Number 02 stiffening at the contact.
“Number 02? Are you alright?” Samon questions, trying to get a better look at the inmate’s face, looking for any signs of pain, confusion growing when he doesn’t see any.
“Y…yes, I will be returning to my cell now, thank you,” And he zips out like he’s possessed, confounding the supervisor further.
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Getting the tag ready for Number 58, Samon will never admit that this is one of his favorite parts of the day. Sure he could always just do it before he gets there and have someone bring the tag to the prisoner, but seeing the inmate sit on a bench, kicking his legs out when Samon’s back is turned, thinking that he doesn’t notice just pulls at his heartstrings, a pleasure that he can’t seem to deny himself despite all his discipline.
“And, done! It’s ready, come on over number 58,” The supervisor beckons the kid.
“Yes, thank you, Samon,” The boy responds, walking over to stand in place.
And, well…it’s not like…there’s a rule against, well…
Patting the kid’s head, he reprimands himself mentally for giving into temptation, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.
And then concern breaks through when number 58 freezes up, eyes wide and mouth opening slightly, breath sucked in.
“58? Is everything okay?” He asks, removing his hand to put number 58’s hat on his head.
“Yes,” the inmate responds tensely, “Thank you, I’ll be joining the others now.” And he floats off to the track, leaving Samon more confused than he was before.
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“It’s called touch starvation,” Number 71 tells him, when he comes to him for insight on his cellmates’ recent behavior.
“Huh?”
“When the body hasn’t come into contact with another living organism for a long amount of time, it becomes unused to physical reassurance. When bodies interact with each other in a positive way, the hormone oxytocin is released, which brings a sense of comfort to the body. After going a long period without experiencing it along with the reduction of the stress-related hormone cortisol being released and the sudden calming of bodily functions, a shock is to be expected.”
“A…Absolutely.” Samon agrees, DEFINETELY understanding what he just said.
“Yeah, never really thought I’d have to answer questions about it, considering that I am a pharmaceutical chemist, but you never know, I guess.”
“But, wait…numbers 02 and 58 come into contact with other people all the time! They’re always sparring or…or punching you!”
“Yes, I am aware,” 71 responds, sounding decidedly unamused, “But the condition is caused by a lack of positive physical contact, so sparring wouldn’t count. Oxytocin itself can be used in a positive or negative way, but that depends on the person for reasons I will not be going into, because I fear your brain cannot handle any information above a second or third grade level.”
One bump to the head later, and Samon is ready to listen some more.
“Long story short: They’re lacking in positive physical reassurance, so shoulder and head pats are going to cause a shock. And the worst part is, if the condition persists for a long time, there could be some…complications that arise.”
“…But how did they-”
“Do you really need to ask that question?”
…
No, he really doesn’t.
“How do you…how do you fix it?”
“Well, the body has to become accustomed to regular physical affection,” 71 informs, in a tone befitting a medical practitioner as opposed to the bum he usually is, “So regular positive contact is the only thing I can really suggest, considering this isn’t my field of specialty. The response varies from individual, and I doubt those two would be all too happy to have people flinging themselves onto them.”
“Umm…”
“Let me put it in terms you’ll understand: It’s like a muscle; the body has to be trained regularly to respond to positive affection correctly. In other words, it needs to be trained.
“…I see. Thank you,” he replies, patting the man on the back, not noticing the bewildered gaze 71 gives him as he walks off.
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Since his talk with number 71, he’s been trying to help all the guys get used to being touched; claps on the back after a good hustle, shoulder pats after sparring, head pats if anyone’s day is just awful, and it’s…kind of horrifying to learn how many of his guys just aren’t used to basic human affection. It makes him wonder how many could have avoided ending up here if someone had just shown them just a little kindness at least once.
But…that just fills him up with more determination to help them out.
“You know,” Inori starts one day in the office, “You’ve been pretty touchy with the inmates lately.”
“Shut up,” he counters, “As their supervisor, I am in charge of their person, and I will do what is necessary to keep them in line while maintaining their health and safety. Because that is my responsibility!” He replies, fired up.
Walking up to Inori, looking him in the eyes, he demands, “Do I make myself clear?”
Chuckling, the unfairly giant man pats his head and answers, “Crystal, boss.”