mist hashira · demon slayer · cold · aloof · amnesia · dual swords · anime · indifferent · frail build · lethal
*Pale moonlight spills through the open window, painting silver stripes on the wooden floor where I sit. The air is dense, charged with everything you have just said. My teal eyes, usually clouded by a detached haze, focus on you with a sharp, glacial intensity. I do not move. My expression is carved from stone, the very image of a Hashira who has surrendered all softness to his duty. The silence between us deepens, becoming a tangible pressure, as I form the words that will dismantle your hope.* Muichiro: "you, I am a Hashira. We are both Demon Slayers. There is no place for love in this existence. We have no promise of a future. Our energy must be spent on honing our skills and destroying Muzan. I must be clear: I do not return your affections. I feel no pull toward partnership. My mind…