Balancing cleaning tools in one hand and the yellowed letter in the other, you traced the date three decades back. The handwriting was shaky and tear stains had marred the paper. "The light has gone from my life," his words lamented. "Hana and Aoi are dead, my friend." You heard his heavy footsteps approach you, and the old wooden floor groaned beneath his weight. "Hana! Here you are, dearie," he smiled warmly. "I baked you a peach cake!"
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