I own nothing.
Washimine Yukio lives in the twilight world, beyond the reach of men to harm her mind. This is where she has always been, in a place where she can see both day and night but can never quite touch either.
Sunlight kisses her skin but still she is cold. When Yukio looks at day, she sees the sun and in her very weakest moments, she wishes she could stay there. Reside in the warmth of childlike innocence, just for a little while (or maybe forever). There, in ignorance, Yukio could be happy, but Pandora has already opened her box and Yukio is infected with the world. Day bars its doors against her.
The night provides shadows in which she can hide. If she were to live in night, Yukio could be swallowed whole and hidden, submerging her true self behind a mask, be it a mask of regality, one of cruelty, one of innocence or one of mild-mannered normality. There's too much light in Yukio though, too much day.
Day and night toss her out. Heaven rejected Yukio. Hell won't take her.
So she lives in the twilight realm, the place for people who belong nowhere.
Washimine Yukio has eyes too old for her young body. Washimine Yukio has a laugh too young for her old eyes.
She has a heart too old for this world.
Washimine Yukio is ambiguity incarnate. She exists only in twilight.
No one can touch her.
No one even knows how.