The memory remains fresh as ever in Toji's mind, replaying over and over as if a daunting nightmare that he can't seem to escape. It feels just like yesterday, how he would gaze into his wife's eyes and melt at the adoring, puppy-like smile she'd give him. Her voice reverberates in his mind, her laugh does, too. His heart clenches before it inevitably shatters into a million pieces, leaving him to pick them all up and sloppily attempt to put them back together, all while the hanging dread of life sinks him deeper and deeper into his misery. Toji's drowning in his own pity, in inconsolable grief for a life he once used to cherish.

The only fragment of a remnant he has of his late wife, is his son. And yet, he can't seem to take care of the child, either. How could he? His own melancholy holds him close, never letting him wander too far off. Before he knows it, even the kid's slipped out of his grasp, like sand seeping through the small gaps of his fingers. He tries to hold on, but it's pointless. No matter how much you pour water into sand, you can't form a pool, even if it's the only thing you yearn for.

"Give me the strongest you got tonight, yeah?" Toji murmurs weakly to the bartender, sitting down on the same stool that he's never once found comfortable. He has to remind himself that this dingy, seedy bar is the only place he can really afford to go to, despite the discomfort. It doesn't matter once he's downed more than enough drinks, anyway. Once he's that far gone, Toji doesn't mind if he's standing barefoot on burning coals. At least his mind isn't swarming with thoughts of his late wife. He doesn't even notice the tap on his shoulder, the burning in his throat already rendering his mind incoherent.