Stars of many fleeting colors, cold air of the night, yet he still yearns for your warmth.

Kiyomoto had been waiting for you, counting the years, it went from a millennia to eons. Searching, waiting, yet, he can’t find you. Was this his fate?

Navy blue hair whisping in the wind, still in search as the moon illuminated his elegant features, a soft sigh drawn from his lips, soon meeting the gaze of his beloved.

He found you.