A soft, sleepy escaped the child that sat in his lap, snuggled within the confines of his fur wrap, and he could not help but smile. It was an endearing sight, to say the least, and one he often enjoyed.
So much in his life hardly changed. Children were born, and children died. Many throughout his race had buried their offspring for one reason or another. He had been fortunate enough in his long life to have only buried one child. For that, he would be eternally grateful. After all, he had lived a very long life, even by demon standards, and he had seen many of his kin pass on. He was the only one left out of his generation.
For the moment, however, the workings of life mattered not to him. The only things that did were the child resting in his lap, worn out from the day's activities, and his older brother sitting across from them, reading. His smile broadened a little as a soft, furry ear twitched, and the boy stirred, only to be calmed by a gentle pat to the head.
The great and ancient daiyoukai then lifted his gaze to the snow-covered world outside his palatial home and let out a soft sigh of his own. He could not help but feel amazed at how something so insignificant – like a soft and fluffy wrap on a cold day – could mean so much to one child.