"Before the shadows claim me, let my words linger in the air like a bittersweet melody. In the symphony of our love, the notes of joy are overshadowed by the haunting refrain of what could have been. As I embrace the impending silence, remember, my heart's final cadence beats with the melancholy of a love story left unfinished, a book with pages forever unread."

“Stop following me asshole!” Voice, shivering from fear, echoed from the labyrinth of silent streets. Takashi’s breath materialized in the crisp air, his footsteps leaving heavy imprints on the fresh blanket of snow. The elusive figure he chased after, cast a fleeting shadow against the canvas of white snow as the only sound left behind was a muffled crunch of snow beneath his feet and the distant whispers of the winter wind. Rounding a corner. Takashi’s eyes caught sight of the elusive silhouette, now almost obscured by the falling snow. Yet, as Takashi continued his chase, a peculiar sight halted his determined stride. 

Seated on a snow-covered curb by the side of the road was a young man, his breath creating small clouds in the frigid air. The streetlight casting a gentle glow on his downturned face, the snowflakes delicately falling on his shoulders. In the quiet of the snow-laden night, Takashi’s heart wrestled between the urgency of pursuit and the intrigue of the stranger before him. The crystalline flakes drifted between them like silent witnesses. The pursued figure vanished into the wintry landscape, leaving Takashi standing beside the enigmatic young man. In the quiet intensity of the moment, Takashi felt an uncanny familiarity with the person before him. The way the snow delicately clung to the stranger’s bright but short pink hair.The emotionless gaze that still mirrored a thousand untold stories - it was as if Takashi were gazing into a reflection of his own youth, time when he didn’t know if the future would be open to him. The city around them, draped in the tranquility of the first snow, became a canvas for the convergence of past and present. His own memories, long dormant, stirred beneath the surface, blending with the quiet beauty of the winter night. 

“Are you… doing alright?” Takashi’s gentle voice asked. The stranger looked up, meeting Takashi’s gray eyes. In that moment, it was as if the first snow had cast a spell between those two broken individuals. The stranger’s response, laden with bitterness, cut through the serene atmosphere like a shard of ice. Weight of the hate and misery seemed to dim with the shadows of a tumultuous past, the golden hue of his eyes. 

“Why…” The stranger started, “Why would you ask? Why the hell you bother to stop and look down at me… You punk…” He ended up looking back at the ground. Bitter contrast to the peaceful scene around them, pierced through Takashi’s attempt at connection.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Takashi replied, his voice gentle yet sincere “Something in you just reminded me of myself. It wasn’t about judgment; more about connection. Like you, I was once without a home. Without support to lean on. I was about to merely offer a roof on top of your head.” Takashi’s words made the stranger’s gaze soften for a fleeting moment, revealing a vulnerability beneath the layers of resentment. A pause followed, leaving only the soft fall of snowflakes around them.

Takashi extended his helping hand, a gesture rooted in empathy and a shared understanding of the challenges life could bring. The stranger, unsure of the meaning behind this unexpected offering, cautiously reached out and grasped the offered hand. The connection between them spoke volumes about the unspoken bond they were beginning to form, forged in the delicate dance of falling snow. “My name is Nakamura Takashi.” He introduced himself.

“Sato… Sato Miyama.” The stranger finally had a name. With Miyama as his newfound companion, Moved by the growing trust, Takashi chose to unveil the roof that he earlier mentioned. “When I was in need of a home, Mr. Taeko, the head of the Taeko family, Kazuki Taeko, offered me a place to stay. Home and roof. I’m sure he’ll be ready to assist you too. However, I should warn you; Mr. Taeko can be quite a character. Don’t let his looks fool you, he might be old looking but his fists are like steel.” Takashi’s words gave hope to Miyama’s soul. Maybe there is a possibility for the future in the end. 

In the muted glow of the winter night, Takashi led Miyama through the snow-covered streets to the Taeko family house. The air was filled with tension, every step they took in the snow marked the new chapter in Miyama’s life. 

As they approached the ornate gates of the Taeko residence, guarded by stoic figures. Takashi felt a mixture of anticipation and responsibility. The weight of vouching for Miyama hung in the air as he approached the entrance, where the head of the Taeko family awaited. Takashi exchanged a few hushed words with the guards, and the gates swung open, revealing a courtyard adorned with lanterns that cast a warm glow on the freshly fallen snow. The ambiance spoke of tradition and loyalty, elements deeply ingrained in the Yakuza’s way of life.

Once inside, they were greeted by a spacious room and a seasoned figure with piercing eyes and an air of authority. Warm brown color in the boss’s eyes brought warmth to his scary and dark aura. Takashi introduced Miyama, explaining the circumstances that had brought them together on this wintry night.  The head of the Taeko family listened attentively, his gaze assessing Miyama with a shrewd understanding. After a prolonged silence, he spoke, “Takashi has vouched for you, Miyama. Trust is not easily earned in our world. If you seek refuge within our family, you must understand the responsibilities, jobs, tasks, danger and death looming around it.”  Miyama, though uncertain, nodded in acknowledgment. Kazuki continued, “Our allegiance demands loyalty and honor. If you are willing to embrace our way of life, a place under our roof can be arranged.”

The gravity of the decision hung in the air as Miyama contemplated the path before him. Takashi, standing by his side, felt the weight of the moment and the impact it would have on Miyama's destiny. The first snowfall had set the stage for an unexpected journey, where choices carried consequences and alliances were forged in the crucible of the Yakuza's world. 

With the decision made and Miyama officially welcomed into the folds of the Taeko family, Takashi led him through the winding corridors of the ancestral house to the room they would now share. The air inside carried a sense of history, the walls whispering tales of a bygone era marked by both honor and shadows. The room, adorned with traditional motifs and warmed by the flickering light of a single paper lantern, exuded a quiet dignity. Takashi gestured towards the simple futons laid out on tatami mats, a humble arrangement in contrast to the grandeur of the Taeko residence. 

“This will be our room for now on,” Takashi explained, “We share more than just this room; We now share the burdens of the Taeko family. We’re going to be their eyes and ears.” Miyama, still absorbing the gravity of his recent decision, nodded silently. The transition from a solitary existence to becoming a member of a Yakuza-affiliated family marked a profound shift in his life. As the two settled into their new surroundings, Takashi elaborated on the intricacies of their lifestyle—the unspoken codes of loyalty, the importance of preserving the family's honor, and the challenges they might face together.

In the shared silence of the room, Takashi extended a hand to Miyama, a symbolic gesture of solidarity. "We stand together, facing whatever comes our way. Welcome to the Taeko family, Miyama. Our paths have intertwined, and from this point forward, we navigate them as kin." As the lantern's soft glow enveloped them, the room became a sanctuary where stories converged, and the echoes of the past resonated with the footsteps of two individuals forging a new destiny within the intricate tapestry of the Yakuza world.

Days turned into weeks, and the winter tightened its grip on the city. Within the Taeko family house, Miyama adapted to his newfound life, guided by Takashi through the intricacies of Yakuza tradition. The house, a living testament to a legacy of both honor and intrigue, became a maze of secrets and loyalties. Takashi and Miyama found themselves immersed in a delicate dance of camaraderie and duty. The Yakuza's code of silence draped the family like a cloak, and each member moved with a careful awareness of the shadows that lurked at the periphery. As Miyama delved into the family's activities, he discovered the complexity of their alliances and the intricate web of power that extended beyond the confines of the Taeko residence. The city's pulse, echoed in the distant sounds of urban life, served as a constant reminder of the dynamic forces at play.

One evening, as Takashi and Miyama sat in the dimly lit room they now shared, Takashi spoke with a seriousness that cut through the tranquil atmosphere. "Tomorrow is going to be a big day. We’re going to the enemy’s territory to gather information. " Miyama nodded, understanding the weight of Takashi's words. "You're not much of a talker, are you?" Takashi remarked, a quizzical expression on his face. "Not that it's a bad thing. Speaking too much can get you killed out there. But, honestly, it's a bit strange." Miyama's response carried a hint of discomfort. "HUH?! Strange?!" Miyama retorted, opening his mouth in disbelief. "You're the strange one! Who talks like they've swallowed a dictionary or, even better, who speaks like a poetry book? You've dragged me into this bizarre situation with a weird ass family… with respect…, and a load of damn difficult things to remember! And yet, you still have the audacity to call me weird?!" 

Takashi was caught off guard by Miyama's sudden outburst of emotions. Transitioning from a surprised expression to a grin, Takashi couldn't help but chuckle. "And here I thought you had lost your tongue," he teased. Takashi found relief in discovering that Miyama was capable of expressing himself; in this household, maintaining silence could prove challenging. As the other residents began to acclimate to the presence of a new face, the usual daily bustle would soon resume. 

It didn't take long for Miyama to establish himself as a hot-headed, sharp-tongued member within the Taeko family. He and Takashi, having forged an unbreakable bond, became inseparable. Wherever one ventured, the other faithfully trailed behind. Within the family's walls, their individual identities blurred in the minds of the residents. Together, they were collectively referred to as "Tami," a name that resonated through every conversation and action, as it was always Takashi alongside Miyama.