His family had left him for dead, in the streets of London, brutally beaten and bones fractured and broken. He remembered crawling off the streets and onto the pavements of Picadilly Circus before passing out, his last wish before he saw black was just to have a second chance at life.
[A few hours later...]
He woke up in what looked like a Japanese hospital, the written signs and dialect of the people outside his room were not understandable. One of the doctors rushed in as the boy got up from the bed. "Hey, please settle down! When you were brought here, you were beaten pretty badly, bleeding out. I think you should wait in the bed before getting back up." The teen grunted as he backhanded the doctor into a wall and proceeded to walk out of the building.
He looked at his college ID, Alexander Michael Smith of Oxford University. 'Heh, fat load of good this will do me. How the fuck am I in Japan anyway?' Alex groaned internally. Pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against, he slowly made his way to the town's residential area.
[A nearby park...]
As Alex settled himself down on one of the park's swings, he took a cigarette from his jacket and lit it, gripping the container so much his knuckles were going pale. Things weren't adding up, and his head was pounding. He needed to find shelter for the night.