Chapter Text
She sighed softly as she walked home, her sore and tired feet slightly dragging, her eyes half-closed in exhaustion. Not to mention the freezing cold of Japan, which caused a light snow to form behind her feet. It had been the longest shift of her nursing career. Winter always brought the worried mothers in, clutching their feverish children close, their eyes wide with the kind of fear only a parent could carry. Tsukiko never minded. She would hold the little ones steady, speak softly to calm both child and mother alike. Something about the way those women hovered, so desperate and full of love, always stirred a quiet ache in her chest, a ghost of warmth from her own mother, whom she had lost. But it was now late, with soft lighting from the street lights, with the softly calming snow that drifted upon her.
Her hand slipped, and she accidentally dropped her badge and her empty lunch bag. She softly grunted as she knelt down to pick up her badge---Tsukiko, it reads on her badge. She was quite small and slim, about 5 feet tall (1.5 meters tall), she was only 21 years old, and she had a type of albinism that she got from her father that made her skin very pale and her long hair completely white like silk. Her hair was currently up from her shift in a bun. Despite her exhaustion, she always had the softest eyes; her irises were a simple black, but up close, a streak of blue was visible in them. And the Japanese women she met while working would always say how envious they were of her pale skin and her youth; sometimes, they asked what she ate and what she used for her skin care. But it was all due to the albinism.
She grabbed her badge and lunch bag, standing back up, but suddenly a bigger German Shepherd grabbed the other end of her lunch bag. The dog didn’t pull hard or bark; it just gently tugged at the bag. Tsukiko looked at the dog, confused; she had never seen that type of dog. The German Shepherd gently tugged again, pulling Tsukiko slightly. Tsukiko was already exhausted, but a foreign dog that was politely pulling her lunch bag stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t know what to do, and it was very late. She finally noticed the vest the dog had on; it was all in English, but she understood the badge of a flag on the vest. The dog pulled a bit harder, slightly jolting Tsukiko forward. She sighed and loosened up, and the shepherd began to slightly drag her, leading her.
She followed the dog, looking around the dark night. After a few moments, the dog led her to a forest, where the snow had picked up, and the forest was now snowy and held the unknown because of the darkness. Tsukiko softly stopped for a moment, and glanced at the dog, who looked up at he for stopping. The dog tugged a bit harder, and Tsukiko could understand that the Shepherd had a strong desire to lead her into the forest. Her mind conflicted with itself, debating her options: she could follow the mystery dog, possibly getting into trouble or danger, or not follow the dog and feel guilty. She looked at the dog again; the dog’s eyes showed desperation and silent pleading.
She gave in again and followed the dog into the snowy forest. She followed as she cautiously looked around, checking for danger as the shepherd dragged to a larger snow pile, it was slightly red, with strings and a broken parachute coming out. Tsukiko slightly froze as she heard a weak, low groan from the pile, and the dog barked loudly once. Tsukiko slowly moved to the pile, finally seeing a black glove. The glove was on someone’s hand, and she gasped and understood the dog now. She moved quickly to unbury the person under the snow, being cautious yet swift. She knew that in this cold, whoever was under this snow could get frostbite and hypothermia.
Finally, she reached a man, barely conscious, who was wearing black clothing with a thick vest that had pouches containing various items; he had the same flag that was on the dog that had led her here. The man was wearing a black balaclava with a skull design, but his eyes were visible; he had beautiful, deep blue eyes, despite being partially obscured. The man’s hand twitched, drawing her attention to where his hand was. His hand was weakly on a gun, and Tsukiko's eyes widened in fear and shock.