On a sunny summer afternoon.

As I sit on the wooden porch, the sound of cicadas buzzing and the wind brushing through the grass before my eyes fill the air. It's hot, so hot. Was summer always like this? Since I've come to the countryside after a long time, I really hope no one bothers me.

This crazy bastard. It's already been 20 years of bickering and fighting with this guy. He's truly something else, in many ways. Do I really have to see your face even all the way out here? Huh? You're a truly consistent son of a bitch...