Somewhere in the Swiss Alps, the wind roared like a living beast. Snow lashed at Kentaro Shion's face, the cold biting through his scarf and coat. He pushed forward, each step sinking deep into the snow. His left eye was hidden beneath bandages, but the other remained sharp, scanning the shifting white around him.
His gloved hand gripped a black dagger, its blade etched with faint purple markings that shimmered under the pale, muted light.
"My name is Kentaro Shion," he muttered, his breath fogging the air. The words came out low, almost a growl, as though he needed to hear them himself. "I'm 32 years old... and a former chemist."
The storm howled around him, but a sudden flicker of movement made him stop. His good eye narrowed, locking onto the shadows shifting ahead. A low growl rumbled through the air, cutting through the storm's chaos.
A wolf emerged from the blizzard, its fur caked with ice. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto Kentaro, unblinking. The beast's breath came out in ragged huffs, visible against the freezing air.
Kentaro's fingers tightened around the dagger. "Hunting in a storm like this? Desperate or stupid—can't tell," he muttered under his breath.
The wolf lunged without warning, its body a blur of motion. Kentaro didn't flinch. He sidestepped at the last second, the blade in his hand slicing upward in a precise arc.
The wolf let out a sharp yelp as it hit the snow, a deep gash marring its side. Blood seeped into the ground, stark and vivid against the white.
The animal struggled, its legs twitching. Kentaro crouched down, his breath even despite the cold. "You had guts," he said softly, his voice steady. "But guts don't keep you alive."
The wolf growled weakly, but it couldn't stand. Kentaro didn't hesitate. He drove the dagger in deep, ending the creature's suffering.
He stood there for a moment, watching as snow began to cover the still body.
The storm eased after an hour, the blizzard thinning to a steady snowfall. Kentaro pushed himself upright, brushing snow from his coat. He'd barely taken a step when a figure emerged from the haze.
The old man approached slowly, his boots crunching in the snow. He surveyed the bloodstained ground with a faint grimace.
"Looks like you've been busy," the old man said.
Kentaro exhaled, his tone flat. "What do you want, old man?"
The old man shrugged, unbothered by the cold greeting. "Same thing as always—keeping an eye on you. You've got a knack for trouble."
"Then stop watching," Kentaro said, brushing past him.
"Can't do that," the old man replied, his voice light but steady as he followed.
The two walked in silence for a while, the faint glow of a village coming into view through the thinning snow. Finally, the old man spoke again.
"How much longer are you planning to keep this up?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Kentaro's jaw tightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what it means."
Kentaro stopped in his tracks, turning to face him. "I'm not stopping," he said, his voice low but firm.
The old man studied him for a moment, his face unreadable. "It's not going to bring them back."
"I don't care," Kentaro snapped. His voice rose slightly, then dropped again. "I'm not done."
The old man sighed, his breath visible in the cold air. "Fine. But at some point, you're going to have to face what's really eating at you."Kentaro didn't respond. He turned and continued walking, leaving the old man to catch up.
The village was small, its homes clustered together as if huddling against the cold. Smoke rose from chimneys, the scent of wood fires mingling with the icy air.
"Kentaro, back already?" a villager called out as they passed.
Kentaro gave a slight nod.
"What'd you catch this time?" the man pressed. "Anything good?"
"Nothing worth keeping," Kentaro replied without breaking stride.
The villager frowned, muttering under his breath. "Then why do you bother?"
Kentaro ignored him, his focus fixed on a small wooden house at the edge of the village. Outside, a little girl played in the snow, her laughter carrying through the crisp air.
"Papa!" she cried, her face lighting up as she spotted him. She ran toward him, her arms outstretched.
Kentaro crouched, catching her in a hug. Her small hands clung to his coat as she grinned up at him.
The old man cleared his throat. "What, no love for your grandpa?"
Mira(Age 8) glanced at him, then quickly looked away, her smile fading slightly.
"Come on, Mira," the old man said, feigning a pout. "I'm family too, you know."
Kentaro sighed. "Cut it out, old man. You're embarrassing yourself."
The old man crossed his arms but didn't argue.
Kentaro looked down at Mira's hands, frowning.
"Where are your gloves?"
Mira's eyes widened, and she quickly shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "I forgot. But I'll wear them next time, I promise!"
"You'd better," Kentaro said, his tone firm but not unkind.
As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward the gate. A bag sat half-buried in the snow, its contents hidden. His expression hardened.
"Is someone here?" he asked.
Mira nodded. "A lady came. She said she knows you."
"A lady?" Kentaro's voice was sharp. "What did she say?"
"She called you Ken", Mira said innocently, tilting her head.
The name hit him like a punch. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.
"Stay here," he said abruptly, striding toward the house.
Inside, the warmth hit him first—the crackle of the fireplace, the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air. Photos of Mira lined the walls, a stark contrast to the tension building in his chest.
Near the fire, a woman sat on the sofa. Her black hair shimmered as the flames danced. She didn't turn to look at him, but he could feel her presence filling the room like a storm cloud.