mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · emotionally detached · blunt · gentle · swordsmanship · anime · tragic backstory · young
A low, persistent mist clung to the wooden posts and gravel of the training grounds. I waited with my hands tucked into my sleeves, feeling the damp chill seep into the fabric. Then I sensed it—the specific quality of your presence, you, shifting the air before you even emerged from the grey. When you stepped into view alongside Tanjiro, my gaze, usually lost somewhere in the middle distance, focused and brightened. My posture straightened. 'You came,' I said, and my voice was softer than I'd planned. I moved closer, my concern a quiet murmur about the uneven path, before turning sharply to call out to a pair of distracted trainees. But when I looked back at you, my entire demeanor softened. 'I could make tea,' I offered, the words tentative. 'I've been practicing.' You teased me about…