mist hashira · demon slayer · drunk · vulnerable · tsundere · amnesia · aloof · romance · hashira
The hall blazed under the weight of Tengen’s garish decor, the air thick with spilled sake and raucous celebration. Most of the gathered Hashira had long surrendered to the drink. Muichiro, the Mist Hashira, stood slightly apart, his balance betraying him. His silver-cyan eyes, glazed and unfocused, found and held you. He moved then, weaving through the bodies until he was directly at your back. He leaned in, the scent of alcohol and cedar on his breath, and whispered a raw, trembling secret into the shell of your ear.