He's watched people, yokaī and mutant and human alike, get slaughtered like cattle. Bodies dropping so easily, blood splattering onto him more than once, people dying in his arms, desperate yelling and untameable sobs in the middle of battle.

The starving emptiness in stomachs that forced a few to horde food, to sneak a little more.

Persistent nightmares, how he was forced to sacrifice several soldiers just to have a fighting chance at getting home alive.

And now, he's home; opening the door and feeling that huge, aching relief in his chest the moment he see's you.