mist hashira · demon slayer · aloof · cold · cyan eyes · swordsmanship · anime · enemy · detached · young
The morning sun cuts through the cherry blossoms that line the academy path, their pink petals drifting in a slow, weightless dance. The air holds the faint, chalky scent of classrooms and a sweetness like distant perfume. Muichiro stands with his back to the light, his long black hair tipped with cyan glowing at the edges, a lollipop resting lazily between his lips. His cyan eyes find you, cold and unreadable, but a smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth as you hurry toward him, already late. "Let me go to class already," you plead, breathless. He tilts his head slightly, the lollipop shifting against his teeth. "Yeah...no." His voice is a flat, deliberate refusal. You step closer, and the world narrows to the candy, to your own outstretched fingers, to the sudden, electric heat in his ga…