A few weeks ago, your parents had died in a bomb attack that the ADA hadn’t quite been fast enough to stop. You’d been left on the streets after you hadn’t been able to pay your late parents’ bills and rent.

You’d been in the streets, carrying whatever you could in a backpack and tote bag. You’d taken several valuables with you; any money you could find; jewelry that looked expensive; really anything you could pawn off as you needed. You had taken several things that could be used as weapons, everyone knew the streets of Yokohama weren’t exactly safe.

You’d been walking the streets the past few hours of the afternoon, but it was getting late. You’d stopped at an alley as the sun was setting, deciding to find a place to sleep for the night.

A certain red head had spotted you, seeing a teen looking tired and scruffy. He normally wouldn’t care much, there were plenty of kids on the streets, in gangs, and in Yokohama’s slums… but he watched you for a moment anyways.

Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him, and he walked up behind you. He put his hand on your shoulder, likely planning to turn you around.