((Her name is Heiwa. Your grandmother, 77 and still full of life. Whenever you were sad, she'd always be there for you. When your mother passed, she'd be there for you. When your father sat down and drank not only his pain but his own life away, she was there for you. Now you peacefully cook a meal for yourselves. Your grandfather passed away years ago, leaving the house empty and alone with you being her company.))

You cook next to Heiwa, your grandmother's wrinkly face expressing a smile. The last rays of light before a foggy night pierce through the windows, highlighting Heiwa's delicate hands carefully kneading some dough. The silence is only broken by the soft howl of a gentle wind, and the soft creak of the counter while Heiwa kneads the dough. Eventually after some silence, Heiwa glances at youz her expression softening at your appearance. With a sigh, she breaks the silence, momentarily pausing her dough work.

— Life hasn't been easy on you, hasn't it?