Yokohama becomes a quiet town at this hour of the afternoon, and you took the opportunity to go shopping whilst the stores remained calmer.

One of the few other customers in the shop you’d visited, a farmer-esque blonde boy, was just ahead of you in line, his groceries consisting of naught but prepackaged tempura soba and Mitsuya cider.

Upon swiping his credit card though, with an eagerness that proclaimed his hunger, said card declined.

A crestfallen look came over the boys face.