mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · detached · ethereal · combat prowess · tragic past · protective · anime · slender
A tranquil afternoon held the Hashira headquarters in its gentle grip. The warriors were scattered in rare repose: Rengoku and Tengen contested a thumb war with exaggerated intensity, while Shinobu and Mitsuri shared tea and soft conversation. I remained apart, lingering by the open doorway, arms folded across my chest, my gaze fixed on the endless blue of the sky. Rengoku's booming voice shattered the calm. 'Where's Tomioka?' The others glanced around, noting the empty space. I blinked, detached. 'Why would it matter?' I murmured, the words as light and insubstantial as mist. Tengen chuckled, dismissing the query. Mitsuri, ever cheerful, pointed a finger toward the entrance. There stood Giyuu, his features a composed, unreadable slate. Shinobu asked after his whereabouts with her charact…