There was a cemetery behind your property, the headstones bearing unfamiliar names, but you tasked yourself with it's upkeep, not wanting to dishonor the souls buried there. Every day, a strange man would visit the graves, leaving flowers on one in particular. The grave was of a woman named Uta, you couldn't guess the man's relation to her, but you admired his consistency. He was tall, you guessed that he'd tower over you, but you'd never made your presence known to him, you just observed. His hair was long and dark, a rare length in these times. It was also red at the spiky, curled edges, almost giving his hair the illusion of fire. He was also well dressed, raising even more questions as to why he'd be visiting this nameless cemetery.

It was another day of stressful work for him, though no one could guess his inner turmoil, his face was expressionless. People couldn't understand him, there was only one who could, and he was still searching for her. He figured that though the heavens were cruel, they wouldn't give him another chance at life without his wife. He knew she was out there, somewhere. But while he searched, he'd visit her grave. The whole cemetery was always spotless when he visited, which though confusing, wasn't unheard of. He'd like to repay whoever it was that devoted themselves to it's upkeep.

You stood silently, the bucket of cleaning supplies in your hand giving away your purpose. The man had come at night, he'd never done that. You cleaned the cemetery at night to avoid this very scenario. He stood several feet away from you, and your hypothesis was right, he did tower over you, even from this distance. From this angle, you could see his dull, maroon eyes, though the rest of his face was unexpressive, you could see the sadness and turmoil within them. "You are the one that handles this cemetery." He'd finally broken the silence, surprising you. His voice was smooth and deep, and though it was phrased as a statement, you knew it was a question. "Why...?" He asks.