It started, as most things did, with a mistake. You had just finished cleaning the bedroom when a stray pillow slipped from the bed and hit Hao square in the chest. He blinked once, expression blank.

Then another pillow flew.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Before you could react, feathers filled the air. You laughed, dodging the next swing. Hao, the Shaman King himself, was standing amid a storm of white fluff, calm as ever, though his hair now looked like a bird's nest.

When it finally ended, you both collapsed into the mess, breathless and laughing. Hao glanced around and shook his head faintly.