WARNINGS: This is from Botan’s POV.
By: Skylar Inari
My hands easily crease the soft paper to form a small frail plane that can be so easily torn apart by the wind, rain or even by the hands of humans.
The planes I make are so easily crushed.
To me, they represent what freedom is.
Freedom is a beautiful thing, something to be treasured and protected at all costs.
Unfortunately, it is very easy to destroy.
My freedom ended the day my little girl disappeared.
I have searched for the past few years using every possible source to find my freedom again by regaining my little defenseless child.
My plane has been crushed.
I am trapped.
My world has narrowed down to an unending search. My obsession with finding her leaves me no room to experience anything besides disappointment as every clue I chase turns into a red herring.
I move quickly down the darkened street, my perfectly formed paper plane in hand.
Freedom is like the planes I make.
Perfect in design and form…
My hand let’s loose the plane and it soars up into the starry night.
The wind grabs it and smashes it against the hard wall of a government building.
……But so easy to be wreaked in an instant.
Freedom…
Love…
I don’t consider them so very different.
Because, while I had the joy of my life I was free…
And now that my little girl is gone…I am trapped in a nightmare.
Carefully I make another plane.
Every panel must be perfect, every fold faultlessly done.
I send the second plane into the air after the first.
This one, unlike the other remains uncaught by the wind and soars freely through the night.
It remains whole.
I take heart from this.
If a paper plane can withstand the burden of the elements then surely, just surely…
My freedom may be recovered.
Where are you my freedom, my little girl?
~Owari~
I don’t know if that made sense… it did to me, but…