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Kenma pulled the sleeves of his hoodie lower, despite it being a bit too warm out for the worn jacket.  The scars on his arm made him self conscious, though it had been a long time since he’d gotten them.

Of course, how he got them was always the question. The scars looked like claw marks, coming down from the tip of his collarbone to his left shoulder, and making their way all the way down his arm in a spiral fashion and ending on the top of his hand. It looked like he’d been mauled by a wild animal, though there weren’t any in Outopía, of course. Kenma remembered where he got the scars though, and that was the strange part.

As far as he knew, he’d always lived in the city. But it was like he had two sets of memories. The memories from his life, growing up and living in the city, and a life in another world. A world with sword fighting and animal partners and danger around every corner. And… there had been a war. Kenma had fought in it with his friends, and won, though not without some hardships.

The rational part of Kenma knew that it had to be a dream, but another part of him wished it could be reality. It seemed a lot more exciting than here in Outopía, and anyway, how else did he get those scars? Nothing he remembered about growing up here had ever led to any kind of accident that could leave scars so severe and animalistic.

There was also another person he knew who remembered what he did. And he was coincidentally the person Kenma was going to visit.

Kenma turned down a few more streets quickly, heading more towards the center of the city. He arrived at a large stone building and headed round the back, ducking behind the wall before anyone saw him.

Kenma adjusted his bag and knocked on the wooden door.

An older boy with grey-ish silver hair and a white coat opened the door. His mismatched eyes widened when he saw Kenma.

“You’re early!” He hissed, abruptly grabbing Kenma’s arm and pulling him inside.

“I know!” Kenma replied cheerfully. “I thought I’d surprise you a bit today. I think I did my job.”

“What would you have done if one of the others had opened the door?” Rin asked, pushing the orange-haired boy inside one of the empty study rooms. “You know civilians aren’t supposed to know about this entrance. You could have been arrested!”

“But it wasn’t someone else.” Kenma pointed out, perching himself on the desk. “It was you, and I wanted to get here early. I don’t know how I knew it was safe, I just went with my gut, and look at that, I’m fine!”

Rin groaned. “You know, you’re going to be the reason my hair actually turns gray at seventeen.”

Kenma swung his legs. “Well, at least I accomplished one of the things on my lifetime bucket list.”

“You little brat.”

Kenma giggled and dodged the halfhearted swat sent his way. “So, Rin, what’s new?”

Rin sighed, pulling out a couple of papers from a dusty shelf. “One of your friends got chased from the square today, after the officials saw the sparrow drawn in front of him.”

“Who was it?”

“Who do you think?”

Kenma sighed. “Kirat?”

Rin’s affirmative hum was all he needed. “You guys had better lay low. The council is still in debate on whether you guys are a threat or not, but based on recent evidence behind those fires ten years ago, they’re going to hunt down anyone they see with the sign on sight.”

“Fake evidence though.”

“Of course. It was forged, but it’s the only lead the council has.” Rin scowled. “I should know better than anyone that it’s all fake. But I can’t prove it, so my claims are disregarded.”

He traced over the scar on his face absent-mindedly. “On a brighter note though, I think Kirat got away. That kid is resilient. But be careful going home, ‘kay?”

Kenma nodded. “Got it. So… about the memories.”