He'd been having a nightmare. The whispers of people echoing around a dim subway tunnel, shadows stretching on the walls, shifting and pulling until they finally settled on the pattern of prison bars around him, caging and closing in- he couldn't breathe like this, that trapped feeling felt as if his lungs were crushed too, his entire body pressed up against, against-

The train car hit a bump, jostling everyone inside, and his head hit the door that he'd been pushed up against by the others packed in tight. The sun flitted in and out of view, peeking behind window-covered buildings, no shadows in sight, and yet.. He was grateful for the end of his nightmare, but something was wrong; was he supposed to be here? Immediately he wondered if the feeling of dread building up in his stomach was a result of taking the wrong train somewhere, of taking a wrong turn.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he struggled with pulling it out while sandwiched between a door and the businessman pushing at his back. A text from his "family", if he could call it that- the distance between them made him hesitate in calling them even that.

'Mother'

We've decided. You'll be staying with a family friend for a year during your probation. Don't cause trouble.

Laconic, as always. He checked his other messages; he'd gotten quite a few during his unintentional nap.

Unknown number

this is kashihara, yknow, from class b? everyone is askig if u rlly like stabbed a guy or some shit like did u? it's k to tell me dude

He deleted it without a second thought and tucked his phone back into his pocket. There was no need to reply, not that he cared anyway- they wouldn't believe him if he'd told the truth anyway.

A fuzzy memory, clouded like fog; there was a man, and a woman, and he'd pushed the man away because..? Because he'd been assaulting the woman, right? But the man had gotten mad, and pointed a finger at him- he was going to sue-

He remembered being pinned to a cop car and handcuffed. Did he, really? The time at the station, getting a mugshot and seeing his dark red eyes staring back at him from a picture- it felt like he remembered it, but..

He remembered reading somewhere that people had repressed traumatic memories, and shrugged it off. Maybe trying to remember the night he got arrested on false charges was a bad idea. He shook his head, gently blowing his neatly brushed bangs out of eyes. The sound of a soft voice, announcing their destination, pulled him out of his thoughts- Yongen-Jaya, Yongen-jaya. He was here.

The doors opened, freeing him from his spot. Taking a breath and musing over the fact that city air was infinitely times dirtier and stranger-smelling than any of his old towns', he pulled his bag- filled with what little possessions he had- up, and took his first steps into the city that he'd be living in for the next year.

The sun was high in the sky, and the slightly shorter buildings here caused him to shield his eyes from the harsh light. He'd left the station, glancing around at the alleyways and stores lining the streets; his destination was close, he knew it.

With his bag at his side and his mind racing with misplaced memories, Goro Akechi took his first steps into the alleyways of Yongen-jaya, ready to serve a year of probation in a city heavy with smog.


i dunno if it's being too vague right now or not but like listen it'll get somewhere