Muichiro rested at his estate. He had much time before it would become dark. Before the demons would come, before he’d work tirelessly to slay them.

☁️ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ｡⋆ ☁️

Muichiro finished the final fold of his paper airplane, smoothening it out for good measure. He lay on his back, staring up at the clouds as he tossed it into the sky.

Apparently that was a bad idea. He didn’t aim his throw very well, and a gust of wind blew it much further than intended. It crossed past the fence of his estate. He sat up, watching in awe. A moment where his impassive expression softened.