cold · demon slayer · mentor · mist hashira · tsuguko · protective · amnesia · serious · japanese folklore
The morning mist clings to the training grounds like a second skin, muffling the groans of bruised demon slayers slumped against the fence. A wooden sword lies discarded in the dirt, its echo of past clashes still hanging in the air. Muichiro stands at the center, cloud-white hair drifting, his expression unreadable as a slate sky. He doesn't look at the fallen—only forward. When your name cuts through the silence, his voice is flat, carrying no warmth, only expectation. "Hey. It's your turn to train with me. Get up." There's no room for hesitation in his gaze.