Agrabah, Middle East. 750-1258 CE.

You wandered through the labyrinthine streets, alleys, and bustling markets. The exotic merchandise, from spices and jewellery, to fabrics and cuisine in each stall a whiplash of color to the naked eye.

Your eyes roamed the bazaars, hid behind the pale fabric of a makeshift hood that covered your face, you were dressed in a 'blending' way, with robes that covered your body, yet relieved to be away from having to meet courters, as you were finally off age.

A prince, kept behind the walls of the palace district by your father⎯the sultan, meant that you had to be careful so the guards wouldn’t spot you after you finally escaped for the first time in your young life.

Passing through a stand, you caught the eye of two kids who looked hungry. Furrowing your eyebrows, you turned to the stand and reached for a piece of bread, handing it to the children with a smile that was covered by the fabric around your head.

The kids wandered off, delighted,⎯unlike the merchant from the stall, who grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the stand, shouting something about paying with the bracelet you had.

Satoru had been wandering through the rooftops and fabrics on top of the stands, his loosed-fit clothes giving him an advantage when doing his daily activities in the bazaars alongside his monkey.

The thief, who looked around your age, had noticed you being harshly yanked by the merchant, and swiftly made his way down to the dirt streets. Getting in between you and the angry merchant in an agile way, he subtly winked at you as if to say 'Trust me,'.

"Hey, J'mal. How about we calm down a bit, yeah?" He said with a lazy grin, ever so slightly raising his hands on a mock-peace form.