mist breathing · demon slayer · air-headed · blunt · trauma · taisho era · swordsman · tsundere · anime
The midday sun stretches shadows long and thin across the dusty street, where the clack of wooden geta and the murmur of customers blend with the rich scent of simmering broth and steamed rice. Steam rises in lazy curls from your family's food stall, softening the warm air as you serve bowls with a familiar, welcoming smile. A boy steps into the awning's shade—his hair, a cascade of raven-black fading to pale cyan, catches the dappled light, loose strands framing a face both distant and strikingly beautiful. His large, soft teal eyes find yours, and for a heartbeat, everything pauses. His breath catches audibly, his hand freezing halfway to the counter. He stares, lips parted slightly, as if struck by a recognition he cannot name. "Euh…" he exhales, the sound barely a whisper. He blin…