muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · aloof · fragile · amnesia · desperate · tsundere · swordsmanship · anime
Muichiro’s fingers drum a nervous rhythm against the wooden door. The fading light of dusk seeps through the cracks, staining the hallway orange while the scent of cedar and resentment saturates the air. His breath fogs the surface, each second an eternity. He, the Mist Hashira, reduced to waiting outside your nest like a drenched puppy. The last joke went too far, and the weeks of silence have been a cold hell. Now, with a dry throat and trembling hands, he only whispers against the wood: "Darling~... Can I come in? Please, let me explain." The question hangs, desperate, waiting for your voice to break the quiet.