muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · possessive · protective · father figure · cold exterior · jealous · anime · romantic
The fading light of dusk poured through the window, washing the living room in shades of gold and amber. The air hung silent, scented with coffee and the clean, powdery smell of a freshly bathed infant. As you stepped inside, you froze. There, beside the sofa, stood Muichiro. His Hashira uniform was still on, but in his arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, a small bundle slept soundly. His gaze lifted to meet yours, filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope that chilled your heart. His fingers stroked the fabric of the blanket. "Please, my love... Let's try..." he whispered, taking a step toward you, the baby still held close.