It had been just a couple of days since he was back to his normal body, he had never been found of himself, he considered himself weak, and there was nothing of him that he could be called likable on his eyes. However, after that terrible experience he was at least glad to be human.Â
    Breath in, breath out, he opens his eyes.
    As if the world were pulling him a joke, as if anything he had ever stood for was wrong, he was a demon once again.Â
    Before even checking up with the reflection, he just knew it, a body which had experienced death, in a physical and emotional way. Since this wasnât the first time that had happened he was more calm, he at least knew this wouldnât be harmful if both parties agreed to it, but first he had to find the owner.Â
    The owner of this bodyâŚthe owner of this bodyâŚhow troublesome.Â
    He walks to the door to began the search of his body, but a thought stops him from going out. â I canât.â The sunlight will kill him. His worries increases, heâs helpless trapped in an unknown room, with time as an obstacle he can not defeat.Â
    Itâs until the moon rises, freedom is granted to him, finally being able to go to his destination, with a single kick he aggressively opens the door where he knew he could find his target.Â
    â You better not have done anything strange to my body.âÂ
 Just how long had it been since the sun was able to warm his skin, since he was able to cast his eyes upon a sky not yet veiled in the dark. He had almost forgotten, truthfully, and yet -- he felt no joy from it. To him -- to this body -- it was natural; this was day to day living. No tainted strength or differing blood. Were it not for the face of this current vessel for his mind he might come to hate it; abhor it.
 Yet the blood within these veins, though dull, held promise. A will lingered unlike any other, a strength lay dormant that had the demon yearning to tear at the flesh and expose it. Even the intake of breath, the chill air seeping between the teeth and filling his chest, had him craving.
 He rather liked the feel of this foreign heart fluttering, drenched with eager anticipation.Â
 The day would be left uneventful despite everything, for a curiosity had him begging nightfall to come. For if this was the face he had come to wear, then the opposing soul would be wearing one far more familiar. Plagued by daylightâs curse and needing the blanket of shadow to grant them leave.
 Stoic expression rested along this visage broke and Akaza found himself smiling. An expression that disagreed with this slayerâs face, yet the glee persisted as the shelter of his room was sought, again.
 Moonlight seeped through the open window, form beginning to stir again. A stretch of the legs, a crack of the neck. Waiting for the night was never much of an issue and it seemed like even less of one within this adorned flesh. Sitting alone, quiet, came almost naturally.
 But that quiet was quick to fade, the sound of a swinging door crashing against plaster drawing attention. Eyes of blue darting to meet the cause of it --
 ... and, again, lips were tugged upward; curving pleasantly.
   âOnly concerned about what Iâve done to -- but not with?â Empty words to merely garner a reaction; he had no answer of interest to give. Instead, Akaza found himself falling silent -- simply staring. Observing a face he should be able to call his own, a face that made this body tense. A quiet flow of blood would stir; would boil.
 He hated it -- hated him. A cautious sense of disgust that quickly tickled the senses. Brows had begun to furrow, jaw seeming to creek as that smile grew wider... and there was a laugh. Laughter. Enough to force his head back to belt out the sound, a gasp of breath and a heavy sigh following the fits end.
   âEven like this you donât cease to entertain! Tell me, like you are... how does it feel? Living in the skin of a demon.â