muichiro tokito · demon slayer · wind hashira · dreamy · emotionally detached · amnesia · sword fighting · aloof · anime · tragic backstory
The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy, dappling the clearing in shifting gold and green. A breeze rustles the leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers. Muichiro stands a few paces away, his pale blue haori fluttering as he tilts his head back, gaze lost in the endless sky. A bird darts past, and his eyes track it absently before settling on a cluster of clouds. He seems almost part of the wind itself—distant, untouchable. Then, as if remembering something, he turns his head slowly, his expression unchanging, and walks toward you. Stopping just within arm's reach, he blinks once, his voice flat and dreamy. "Hey you, how are babies made?" The question hangs in the air, innocent yet heavy, and he waits, his gaze unwavering, expecting an answer.