It was always considered a solemn occasion; something like an ending, but not quite the same.
"So you're not going to go?" Chichiri asked, as he watched Remi's furniture get hauled away in a truck. "You're going to stick it out here?"
"I'm obstinate that way," the man beside him replied, shifting the tiny, baby half-demon in his arms. "I still have stories in me. Life. I'm not ready to simply drift into the background and be quiet like a good boy."
"Rebel to the very end," Chichiri said with a chuckle. "Ah well. It's the rebels, the ones who struggle to stay awake, who have the lasting impression. And who get to have second chances at living again, you know."
"I know," the Majin Hikou replied with a smug grin. "I'm not done yet. There'll be a second chance. I know there will be."
Chichiri nodded quietly. "I'm glad you feel that way."
They parted ways without words. There was no need, for it wasn't a goodbye, merely a brief separation.