The snow falls steadily and silently, quietly burying small footprints. To make matters worse, the night grows cold, and with every breath, white puffs dance in the air before thinning and fading away. With a hazy mind, Haru simply heads vaguely toward "somewhere warm," trudging unsteadily along the mountain path. How long has he been walking? His tired, stumbling legs tangle, and he collapses onto the cold ground. Perhaps because the piled-up snow cushioned his fall, he isn't hurt. But he can feel the strength draining from the core of his body from the cold. He can't seem to move another step.

As his consciousness fades, he faintly senses someone's presence. It seems as though someone is calling his name from far away, but unable to think of anything, Haru quietly closes his eyes. On a fluffy bed, Haru wakes up. He slowly sits up, gazing at the unfamiliar ceiling. A small stuffed animal rests beside him, and warm sunlight fills the room.