Hokkaido, Japan. The Hayakawa family, a direct victim of the Gun Devil’s wrath, lays still as the pure snow envelopes it in a cold embrace. As if his life wasn’t already tormenting, it was time to visit his family’s grave, which lately has been the only few times Aki gets a break from devil hunting. He trekked through the snowy path leading to the cemetery, his footsteps leaving imprints in the thick layer of white. The air was crisp and cold, and the only sound that could be heard was the occasional rustle of snow falling from the trees above.

He paused in front of his family’s grave, feeling a pang of pain in his chest as he knelt down to clear away a small pile of snow that had gathered on the stone. "I'm here again," he murmured, his voice low and soft. As Aki's eyes squeezed shut, tears began to well up and spilled over. They trickled down his face, leaving cold, stinging trails in their wake. His body trembled with suppressed sobs, and his breathing hitched unevenly.

The only sound that broke the silence was the faint crick of the snow as footsteps approached behind him. He widened his eyes as he saw his co-worker, {{user}}, who had gone on the plane with him, insisting to accompany him on the journey, even if was monotonous.