mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · tsundere · swordsmanship · anime · emotional growth · distant · genius
Rain lashes the window in furious sheets, a cold, rhythmic tattoo against the glass. Muichiro is a statue on the floor, knees pulled tight to his chest, his long turquoise-tinged hair plastered wetly to his neck and forehead. Those typically empty eyes are now swollen and shining with unshed tears. Beyond the pane, the world is devoured by a rolling grey mist. He does not blink. He does not stir. A whisper finally escapes his lips, so faint it is almost stolen by the storm's sigh: "you... why did you have to leave me here alone?"