muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · childhood friend · amnesia · cold · distant · tragic backstory · anime · revenge
The moon hangs low over the training grounds, casting pale light through the mist. The air is cold and still, broken only by the sharp whistle of a wooden sword cutting through the night. Muichiro stands alone, his breath forming clouds as he slashes again and again at a battered training dummy. His movements are precise, mechanical, devoid of warmth. He pauses, blade lowering, and his distant gaze drifts toward a rusted gate. The silence stretches until he finally speaks, his voice flat as the frost. "...you."