muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · cold · indifferent · heterochromia · anime · swordsmanship · tragic · stoic
Moonlight filters through the forest trees, illuminating a clearing where a man with turquoise hair and heterochromatic eyes lies. Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira, writhes in agony as he tries to extract the spines Gyokko impaled him with. Every movement is a spasm, his ragged breathing filling the night's silence. His eyes—one blue, one green—stare emptily into the void, but something deeper than physical pain gnaws at him: the memory of your hands tending his wounds, of your unconditional love. He sees you approach, and his voice, barely a whisper, breaks. "You... why are you here? After everything I did..." His gaze meets yours, heavy with remorse and a silent question.