“ Run, Run, Run, Little Rabbit.. “
~NAME
“ My Name is Hoshizora Kumo-Kojima, Otherwise known as Clouds.. My name means Starry-night cloud .. I hope you can see where the alias came from. “ He spoke, his voice echoing in the empty cabin. A soft smile played on his face, hidden by the mask he wore.
AGE
“ I am thirty-six years old, born on the twenty-second of August..” Hoshizora would pick up a painting brush as he spoke, to once more, seemingly no one.
GENDER & PRONOUNS
“ A male, I use He-Him pronouns, thank you for asking. “ A soft chuckle.
OCCUPATION
“ I worked as a butler for Kenpachi Ego.. My past-occupations also revolve around serving. ” A nod of his head.
MARITAL STATUS
“ Curious one.. Ah, I am in a relationship currently. My luck in the romance-department has been less than ideal throughout the years, but I believe I have met the one. “ He’d dip the brush into a bowl, one containing lukewarm water. Soon raising it and pausing, his gaze held hostage by the possibilities of a white canvas.
BIRTH PLACE
“ hmm.. Japan“ He’d rub the brush gently against the colour green.. As the brush took on the, colour, hee brushed a stroke against the canvas. “ I have moved a lot during my upbringing.. The town of my birth was never discussed. My father is Japanese, My mother is *****ian . “
FAMILY
“ I have two dear siblings, twins, actually. Syun’ya Kumo, and Otari Kumo. Biological siblings of mine. I love them very dearly, though.. They are still .. my siblings. They ought to scheme together and create havoc .. “ A soft, tired chuckle was heard from him, in the silence, nothing but the soft sounds of the brush strokes against the canvas, painting the landscape of his mind.
“ Syun’ya is the loudest of us. He is quick on his feet and hyper, in a way. Not an ounce of hesitation stains his moves when it comes to protecting his twin, or warning me. “ He smiled, a soft one. Barely present on his face.
“ Otari, don’t let his quiet nature fool you. He might be silent more often than not, but whenever he speaks, it is nothing but brutal honesty or constant commentary about everything. Admit, it’s quite amusing. “
~
APPEARANCE
His White hair cascades along his body in soft cloud like shapes.. Reaching all the way to the back of his shins. . As he passed by, his footsteps so seamlessly appeared as though he was floating. . The soft scent of lavender and forests trail behind him.
Clouds held a slim build with little curves to be noticed. . He seemed a little too thin, despite the nature of his clothes that suggest his wealth. The male’s face was a heart-shape with high cheekbones. The top of his face’s skin would be a - [REDACTED] . His eyes are soft, utterly so. Hypnotic almost. Against his white hair, those deep-forest eyes stood out. Doe-shaped and framed by white lashes. Thin lips, from them his voice passed. A gentle one, carrying kindness and contentment. He seems to hold no malice in his heart.
His clothes, varying between traditional Japanese clothing and folk-lore inspired outfits. Leaning heavily on the Yaelokre themes.. Each outfit is hand-made with quality soft fabrics.
FACE-CLAIM! This is off-colour.. But I couldn’t find something better :(( they all lack dark-toned characters, or ones with Vitiligo
PERSONALITY
Hoshizora Kumo.
Carrying great levels of kindness and empathy, is him. He wanders the lands of Karakura with patience and grace, not allowing the voices to ruin what’s left of his soul. His gaze, often full of curiosity and wonder, warms his path.
Having lived in Karakura since the age of nineteen, he has been through the ups and downs of this town. His kindness is wrapped by caution. Not taking kindly to any disrespect to himself, or his siblings. Do not mistake his kindness for weakness, as he hides more than what his mask holds. While his soul holds nothing but the purest of intentions, his words always fail to articulate it. Ending up as vague sentences that seem far more distant than how he is at heart.
He embodies magic and fantasy, the wonder of the new and sorrow of the past, held in the present. . Clouds’ heart reaches into the ground to hold itself present in the moment. Chains of the past tugging at him from every angle. Those chains, despite their weight, aid him in separating his feelings from actions. Other’s feelings from their actions. It’s easier said than done, but repetition is key.
PHYSICAL & MENTAL HEALTH
PHYSICAL HEALTH
Clouds wasn’t born with a sickly-body. He was born with a rather healthy one. Despite the vitiligo colouring his skin, there wasn’t anything that could indicate health issues. As of currently, however, he is frail. Thin and bony. Such build is always hidden by his clothes which often consisted of heavy material and layered structure, hiding his weakness.
There is a small-faden surgery scar atop of his throat. A burn scar on the left-side of his face. A long slash along his spine.
MENTAL HEALTH [ TRIGGER WARNING : DISCUSSION OF MENTAL HEALTH DISORDERS ]
All of the following disorders are undiagnosed. For he has suffered and had them for his entire(ish) life, and it is simply nature for him. The nature of how he was raised never introduced the option of taking care of his mental state.
Hoshizora Kumo has(and is) struggled(ing) continuously with ANXIETY AND OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER - Along side ANOREXIA . His anxiety has stemmed from the constant beating and scolding he has received as a child. Whether it be mental, physical or both. Creating an impulsive need to remain on high alert at all times.
Hoshizroa was ‘born’ with OCD. His mother played a genetic component in the development of Hoshizora’s disorder. Mother like son. The undiagnosed nature of this disorder in the family caused their relationship to greatly suffer. A mother who wanted her son to be a copy of her, to live up to her expectations that were driven by the compulsive fear of being disregarded by the high-society she was in, led her to ultimately discard him.
While Hoshizora’s own OCD did not take strong manifestation until he was fifteen. Beforehand, it was simply the counting, repetition of words, the routine that never seemed to harm anyone. Afterwards, the number of major changes in his life triggered a series of meltdowns, panic-attacks, stress- and in effort to rebuild his life, he had neglected his nutrition- leading to the development of Anorexia.
Eating became a stressful experience.
Food was .. weird. Textured. Overwhelmingly so. As a younger child- he might have not paid it much attention, but once the order around him disappeared- experiences shifted around him. Food was no longer a source of joy, or comfort. It was stressful. Anxiety inducing.
It wasn’t only the food, it was his own view of his body distorting. For he can only see the marks left on him, raging disgust and hatred for his own flesh.
RELATIONSHIPS
MISTER KENPACHI EGO
“ I view him as my boss, as he embodies that role. Despite that harsh exterior, and more often than not insulting words, I do not believe he has malice in his heart. He has treated me with nothing but respect. For myself and my siblings under the condition I had set to work for him. He is absolutely clear with every word. Although he views himself as a higher being, which I find amusing, he still holds his word true. I would imagine if he had softened his words, let go of his ‘ego’, a lot more people would take liking to him. “
“ .. I wish to take back a .. few decisions of mine.. “
As he spoke, he stared in the mirror. His eyes glued onto his reflection. Soon, he smiled. Something that was well practised. Something that wouldn’t be easily deciphered. He had rehearsed this a million times already, over and over for different people. This is no different. And , that was comforting for himself.
PASCAL HACHT
“ He is an admirable soul. In every aspect, he has been nothing but a pleasure to make acquaintance with. I hope, dearly, that he continued to come over and join me at the Zen Garden. He intrigues me more than I can say. Every word from him sounds so genuine, so warm. . He almost embodies hope and sunshine. That the sky is at its darkest before sun-rise. He is so wonderful .. Every conversation with him flows easily, smoothly. The sense of perfection I have to uphold doesn’t apply to him. It’s relieving and refreshing to be in his presence. “
" I am beyond lucky to have him as my partner. Pascal, should you ever see this message- Know that my love for you is endless, and if I am not present or far from you- I am missing you with my very soul. "
His hands travelled to his own hair, pulling onto two strands from his braid, letting them hang on his shoulders. His smile was much, much, softer. The memory of his conversations with Pascal warmed his heart. He placed clippings, one after one onto his braid, chuckling softly. When he stared in the mirror, he saw himself as a person rather than the vessel he was made into.
LADY KUREN
“ Despite her and Mister Ego’s apparent mutual hatred . . She is kind. Unlike her friend, Kyosuke, or whoever his name was, She doesn't dislike me due to my association with Mister Ego. Her kindness and good-nature is something to be admired. I would love to someday have a chat with her in the monastery. I imagine she’d have wonderful stories to tell and wisdoms to share. ”
With a soft hum, he brushed another stroke on the canvas. Smiling softly. He felt nothing but gratitude towards Lady Kuren. After all, It is nothing short of rare for people to not judge him for his occupation of choice. He wondered, could he possibly speak to her more often? Perhaps, they are similar. Who knew though? Not him.
SAOLA EVEREST
“ A fun company! It is always so amusing to watch her back and forth with Mister Ego. While most speak with an air or formality, she is not afraid to curse him out and call him all that there is. If I had to choose a friend for life, It would be her. I know she wouldn’t let myself slip up or take any bullshit from anyone. ”
VOX DOE
“ hmm.. It’s not that he is unpleasant to be around.. It’s that he is strangely able to add a million percent tension to any space he ever exists in.. It’s difficult to be around him. He was a detective who used to frequent the mansion I worked in. I do not know him personally, but we have seen each other a notable number of times. “
Hoshizora’s eyes tracked the gentlemen as he passed by. His steps were heavy, purposeful - but so, so, angry. He himself felt unsettled in his presence.
JUBASIM AMOROSA
“ A good friend of mine, the reincarnation of a calico cat. She is an absolute delight to be around, nothing but curious-energy, . . . though she seriously needs to consider going out more.. Her skin is sickly pale. “
LUKA DOE
“ He is a young-man, dressed in all warm colours. He seems to attract people his age to him, it’s nice to know someone isn’t having the same experience I did in college. I pray for the best for him. He is also Vox’s son. . Frankly, he is nothing like his father. . which is something I’m (secretly) grateful for. “
KEY BULLET POINTS FOR HOSHIZORA KUMO
includes : someone's decent into madness. And, TRIGGER WARNING for abuse, degradation, and as mentioned- someone losing his sanity.
[*] Clouds life revolves around serving others. From his love language being acts of service, to himself working in generally-serving jobs. Servant, butler, worker, maid, janitor, all of the above. Despite his family being fairly wealthy, that wealth was inherited by his siblings rather than himself. Leaving him to work to make any amount close to that.
[*] Clouds holds huge pride in the perfection of his art. Looks, cleanliness, culinary and so on. It’s almost obsessive, in the manner he feels the compulsive need to have everything in control.
[*] He holds a generally soft demeanor that is not mistaken for weakness. He knows where he stands and will not stand disrespect to his peers. He doesn’t care if it is him who gets bad-mouthed, as long as his loved ones are safe, it’s worth it. There is a surprising level of determination in that aspect.
[*] His style is heavily inspired by nature mixed in with tradition. His outfits mirror traditional Japanese clothes with a fantastical-like twist to it. He almost always appears to be put together and ‘fancy’ as some would describe.
[*] Too many things going wrong will send him into a spiral. One of the major points for this is the intersection of his job, serving people, and the image he maintains with his family and friends. These two intersecting in any manner causes him to overtly stress, the person he is and who is meant to be clashing together in often a short period of time, not allowing him to fully think over what he’d like to do.
[*] There is scary dedication to his job. Almost unhealthy in a manner.
[*] Due to the abandonment he felt over and over and over again, clashing with his general job that is viewed more often than not as ‘lower than the rest’ this created a very solidified sense of unworthiness and degradation. He’s not worthy, not enough, not needed, not wanted. He will more than not make compromises that can even harm him, in order to not be viewed badly. He already is lower than the rest. Don’t give them more reasons to think so. Please don’t. There’s a need for himself to work extra hard, more and more so he can feel at their level. Why is it so damn bad? Why can’t I feel normal? I’m human too, right? Right? Please tell me tha-
[*] Clouds had a thyroid disease. Due to the surgery, his vocal cords have been damaged. He can’t yell. His normal voice is soft, constantly strained. Especially if compared to himself whispering, which is always smoother and steadier.
[*] Hoshizora is obsessive. He hyper-fixates on the small things, often neglecting his own health in order to keep whatever he does, be it food or cleaning, PERFECT. This can result in out of control circumstances to stress him out beyond belief, ending up with a rage-fueled monologue and harmful destructive behaviour. It can be hours of cleansing himself, scrubbing the floors until his blood taints the towel[or sponge], cleaning every nook and cranny in a space.
It is not healthy nor sane. The amount of both intrusive and impulsive thoughts he faces during such occasions are not to be underestimated. It can quite literally drive him to violence if whomever is causing it continuously repeats it.
BACKSTORY BULLET POINTS, IDEAS, VISIONS, AND SO ON.
[*] Clouds birth was easy. A good start. Born on the 22nd of august into a wealthy upper-class family. One known for their wonderful sculpting crafts, culinary abilities, and a thriving fashion business.
[*] He was a very playful, sly child. Nothing short of amazing. Although the patches of his skin and his white hair set him apart from his family, he was unbothered by it. Homeschooled, no social life, but living the goddamn dream of a child. Hoshizora worked hard to please his parents, his mother especially. She tolerated nothing but perfection. Once she has given him the love and care a child needs. Although there were some .. interesting, hobbies of his.
[*] Clouds has a strange obsession with counting. He’d count the pages in a book, the tiles on the floor, the letters in his textbooks. He fixed everything to the tee- often using a ruler. With this obsessive nature with routine and almost ritualistic like need for order and cleanliness- Came meltdowns. What was treated as a tantrum, was his need to keep everything in order.
[*] The days where one of the servants changed the position of a toy he had, a book, down to the fabric of his clothing being cleaned with a different detergent. He was certainly a child of wonder, but raising him during those times was a challenge the parents were more than up to take. . for a price.
[*] There was a debt he never asked for. He was raised wonderfully, lovingly, but his parents expected a comeback. As he turned thirteen years old, gruelling work hours has been slammed onto him. Sculpting, crafting, cooking, designing. All of it. He was blessed with a wonderful sense of creativity, something that his parents exploited heavily. . until it happened.
[*] ‘ Is this the golden child of the Kumo family? ‘ He was put in the public eye, and the people disliked him. He wasn;t normal. He doesn’t look normal. He was all too silent, lacking the charm that the Kumo-family was known for. An anxious, blubbering mess. Every word was tainted, slipups everywhere. His head hung low among the masses. The people dismissed him. . His mother did not take kindly to this. She hid his vitiligo under makeup, practised smiles and body languages to force onto him. He has to be perfect. He has to be accepted. Otherwise, why would anyone want a shunned child? ..
[*] Exactly, no one wants a shunned child. A rumour spread. He is an anomaly, a mistake, some sort of scandal !! The mother cheated, she must have. .. HE IS NOT HER CHILD. They need to , they must shut this down. Explain his existence. That’s it! He is nothing short of an abandoned kid. They found him and took him in from the kindness of their hearts. He is imperfect because his parents are old, drugged, hags. He is imperfect because his very essence is damaged. He is a disgrace. . It didn’t take long for those words to lodge into his brain. All the fine crafts he has been taught were thrown aside. He is treated as a servant, one of many who worked in the mansion. Perhaps he was fifteen, but they sent him off every summer to a butler academy. One they ran on their own.
[*] Every single summer, he spent it entirely there. Learning the ritual of order. The control of elements, valet, assistance, hospitality, demeanour, behaviour, everything to the tee. Over, and over, and over again. The program is only ten-weeks, but he’s stretched on forever and ever. And instead of focusing on his school, he’s sent off to serve in different houses. A white mask was tied onto his face. Covering his identity as the disgraced child who had lived in the Kumo-mansion. Over and over and over he was nothing short of used in every manner. Some were kind, some were cruel. Some were evil.
Over and over, his sense of self was destroyed. Is he that bad of a child? Is this a punishment? It must be. Where had he gone wrong? He couldn’t control the stammer in his voice, the nervous shake of his hand, but he must. He must. He had too. Everytime someone had their way with him, in the dark high-ranking world where he can do nothing but accept it, a part of him was shattered. Until there was nothing left of the once playful kid, a robot, a vessel, a thing to be used.
[*] At eighteen years old, his mother gave birth to twins. A sickly child with a heart-condition, a white-haired child. On that day, Hoshizora was no longer their child. Not that he was. On that day, he was assigned to work as a servant in the mansion. His rules were strict. And one sentence, one sentence, whispered to him as he watched the twins, his brothers , driven away.
‘ You are nothing short of a disgrace, Hoshizora. I don’t want your influence on these innocent children. They mustn't know of you. You. are. Not. my. Child. . you are not their brother. A servant you are, and always will be. Get out of my sight now. ‘
[*] And so, he was no longer their brother. He might’ve held the name, but not the meaning. Over and over, he watched from the distance as they played, hid, taught, loved, hated.. He tried to get close, left and right, someway for him to interact with them. Somehow. I’m begging, notice me. I’m here. You’re not alone. He watched when Syun’ya protected Otari. When Otari’s comebacks got him in trouble, his remarks were met with arguments.
` [*] ‘ Syun’ya .. check this out. ‘ the now eleven-year old Otari mumbled, pulling at a picture from behind the paper wall. A picture of a familiar face and build.. Soft eyes that stared with a mischievous smile. With their parents. They looked alike. . Like a family. This must’ve been before they were born. This boy looked alive. Where is he? Dead? That’s when they heard a small gasp, something that was followed by running footsteps. By the time they turned, it was gone.
[*] ‘ Haven’t I told you to get rid of all those pictures?! Why are Syun’ya and Otari speaking of it!! ’ Her voice boomed in the empty, discarded room. No matter how much he screamed and wailed, no one came for him. The rod that was heated, so much that the metal had turned bright red - was brought closer and closer to his face.
‘ They won’t recognize you. ‘
.. If it was up to her, she would’ve kicked him out. . But the father didn’t want the risk of someone finding him. Why don’t they just kill me? Why don’t they just spare me. The rod touched his face. Searing hot pain spread on his face, muscles contrasting against each as tears streamed down his face.. Then black.
When he was awake, he felt the ache in his face. It felt all over. He was in the same room, left alone. Slowly, he pulled his knees up to his chest. He sat there, empty staring at the wall.. He moved to stare at his hand. He had already been losing his appetite on top of getting little food. Other servants were treated much better. How come HE, his parents’ CHILD, is he getting treated in this manner?
He must’ve stayed in that room for a week.. A month? More? He couldn’t tell. He did nothing. Didn’t get up. Didn’t bother. He barely went to the bathroom, ate, or .. really anything.
[*] .. The door opened. He didn’t turn. “ You’ve slacked for long enough. Get up this instant. “ oh, well. He couldn’t do much anyways.. Slowly, he moved to catch his mask that was thrown in the side, thankfully - they’ve bandaged him.. Maybe they didn’t want to risk him dying from an infection. He tied the ropes around his head. As he stood, his body was skeletal. Moving in the manner of a wooden-doll. His moves continued in that path. . everyday, he moved. Doing what he was told. Silently. To add insult to his already weakened body, he began experiencing various symptoms of hyperthyroidism due to his undiagnosed Graves’ disease. . it all reached a breaking point.
[*] Opening his eyes, he found himself within the hospital walls. A choked feeling rising in his throat. He stared for hours. The place was empty. So, so, empty. . There are clouds. On the ceiling. The walls. He smiled softly as the colours from the windows bled out, filling the area around him.
The door opened and the illusion disappeared..
‘ .. Clouds .. ’ He tried to reach for the window, his arm paused. Needles poking into it, losing all its colour. . If he had to say, it’d look like they were draining him out of his blood rather than giving him nutrition. He didn’t realise it, he was smiling oh so dreamily at the clouds that didn’t exist.. His eyes were then dragged, it felt like an invisible force was tugging him to look at the face of .. someone. He can’t remember whom, the face was blurred out. He furrowed his eyebrows. . blinked.. And gone. The door was closed.
[*] Those hallucinations, the daydreams of faces and people watching him only increased .. he wasn’t well. Maybe he was doing his job perfectly, but he was lost. . Only ever present whenever his siblings were in view. Oh, how they lit up his eyes. He wanted to speak to them. I mean, How bad can this get, really? Let’s go. Let’s speak to Otari! Or Syun’ya! Whoever happens to be ahead of him.
[ BUTLER ACADEMY ] [15-20]
[*] During his first ever time in the training academy at the age of fifteen, Cloud's anxiety continued to hinder his progress. While he took orders perfectly, balanced multiple glass-cups, drinks, foods, organised schedules, domestic management systems- everything from A to Z- he failed in the social department.
Clouds, although well-spoken like the rest of the Kumos’. . he stuttered and stammered often. Hesitated, questioned, thought. In this Kumo-ran academy, that wasn’t acceptable. He is to follow orders and keep his tongue to himself. So, everytime he broke that rule, everytime his curiosity got the best of him, everytime he was a smart-ass and countered- he got that beaten right out of him. Every Time he arrived at the academy, it was to rewire him.
[*] That’s right, he only exists to serve whomever is higher than him. It was all too common in the academy, this mindset. Over the next few times he came to the academy, it all seemed to be working. The constant punishing over the smallest mistake, the slip-up- anything that wasn’t PERFECT. He needed to be that, he needed to be perfect. No mistakes. Just do as you’re told, Hoshizora. You can do that, right? You can be perfect. Afterall, you fucking failed as a son. You might as well try to succeed in this. Maybe then, she’d accept you! Then you’ll be her son again. Then you can have a hug, a kiss to the forehead, - then you’ll be allowed to be a son. . you’ll be allowed to feel her love. The love that was taken from you. I need to be perfect. I need to fulfil something. I can’t fail. I can’t. I won’t. I WILL BE PERFECT.
[*] His new found determination to win his parents’ affection- (mostly his mother’s..) was a scary, scary, thing. It was borderline psychotic. The obsessive need to be 100%. Not a spec of dust, not a stammer in his words, not a single fucking mistake. He can do this, yeah. Maybe his own mother didn’t see him as her son, but he had his father’s name. KUMO.
[*] The sudden rise of Hoshizora in the butler-academy was a terrifying sight. It was a switch, something that flipped over, something that made people stay back. You’ve never seen such a thing. He scored the highest in all the lessons he repeated ten million times. All the tasks that he was asked, forced, made to do. As Long as he was on the clock, he was nothing like himself.
[*] Every word was rehearsed, each smile practiced, every step was soundless .. The sudden shift didn’t miss the mother’s notice. Huh, how did that happen? I swear he was a failure just a few years back. Could he have gotten this good? Well, no matter, he is still a servant. And no son of mine is ever a servant. No son of my husband is a servant.
[*] This un-acknowledgment from his parents led him further down this path. Each house he was sent too was cleaned fully within a few days no matter how large. He lacked sleep, nutrition, clear vision - often fainted, or lost his balance - bled and broke, yet nothing stopped him. He will get his mother’s approval. He must.
[*] It was manic. He was manic. There is not a single sane thought going in that rotten-head of his. If he is a disgrace, then he shall be. If he is to be feared, then he should. For he only had one goal only, to please his mother, and meet his siblings.
~
‘ SOMEONE RESTRAIN THIS CHILD!!! ‘ [21]
NO. NO. NO. YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T. YOU WON’T.
He struggled, pushing and shoving against the guards - their grips against his body were brutal, bruising. His lungs contrasted, his heart-beat racing. The scent of his blood filling the air. Yet, yet, he couldn’t voice his frustrations.
His mother and father simply stared in haunting silence.
‘ What an embarrassment. ..’
“ MOTHER!! MOTHER!! ADMIT TO IT!! I HAVE - SO, SO, WELL!!! “ His mother flinched, the disgust searing her graceful face. Her eyes racked along her non-child’s body. . God, how messy. His hair was wild, his once beautiful white hair now stained by blood and dirt- mud and pebble alike. His uniform torn apart, exposing his torso, the skin hugging his bones until no one could tell the difference.
“ Do not call me mother. “
Silence.
All movement in him was still. A hush went through the crowd.. As his vision blurred, all he could see were the faces of his brothers in the distance. Watching.
Oh, what have you done, Hoshizora.
“ Take him away, I do not wish to see him. “ This time, his father spoke. He refused to look at Hoshizora. Holding his wife’s hand, he’d kiss the back of it. They moved further and further, the crowd moving further- getting smaller..
…
~
[*] Clouds would bow down, his hair following suit, the mask tied to his face.
‘ Lady Kumo, I have arrived. ’
She felt pain. God, how much pain she felt. She had seen her child, the perfect little star that he is- wither off under her grasp. Yet, she could never allow herself to kill him nor harm him further. He had a wish. To stay within the mansion’s walls.
He never addressed her as mother any longer, but perhaps, that’s how she liked it.
~
[*] A knock on his chamber’s door startled him. The head of Syun’ya peeking in. Hoshizora didn’t move. His brain shut for a moment- before blinking, registering the faces.. Soon, Otari stepped inside as well. Closing the door behind themselves.
‘ .. oh. ’
[ A MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR]
hello people!! Yes, this is unfinished and it will remained that way! Hoshizora has been retired for a few weeks now, getting his happily ever after. With that, I stopped updating his biograhy. However, I didn't want to leave it in my google-documents ! It was a very good biograhpy in my opinion, as I tried a new style of writing that fits Hoshizora's fantasy-esq theme! I hope you enjoyed this read! Give me your opinions on Hoshizora, the biography, or the general style! I do want to hear more on how I can improve.
Yours Truly,
Aaron