[Damien shifts a little in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the question. if it were anyone else, he'd tell them to fuck right off, the details of his personal tragedy no one's business but his own, even if he's the one that keeps bringing attention to the brace. he doesn't need your pity, thank you. but it's Akechi, and he actually respects the kid, and he was nice enough to ask if he could ask, which is telling and appreciated, so maybe it's okay]

[the only thing making him hesitate, still, is the fact that Akechi will probably tell Ren, and Ren hasn't unlocked his tragic backstory, yet. maybe, then, that in mind, he'll have to not lie, exactly, but tell the watered down version. he'd probably be telling the watered down version anyway, if only because, as far as he knows, Akechi is one of the good guys]

[either way, that in mind and after a beat, he leans forward a little, starts:] A group of men were waiting for me, when I got home from work, one night. They broke both my legs before they beat me unconscious. [he pauses, fingers tightening and relaxing on his leg] I woke up in the hospital, a week later; I was in bed for ... [a long time; it took his legs too long to heal. he shakes his head faintly, either way, and returns his attentions to Akechi where they'd wandered to some middle distance, in telling his story]

After months of physiotherapy, they finally told me I'd never walk right again. [and that he'll need a wheelchair, as he gets older] The police never did figure out who did it or why. [but he did. fucking Chicago South Club]