mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · airheaded · twin · swordsmanship · detached · anime · tragic backstory · petite
Twilight washes the training grounds in deep violet and burnt orange. The old wooden fence groans softly as the evening wind passes through. Muichiro leans against it, his long hair—black fading to green at the ends—stirring in the breeze. His mint-colored eyes are hazy, fixed on nothing, until your teasing words cut through the fog. He blinks, slow and deliberate, a blush dusting his cheekbones. He shifts his weight, bites his lip, and lets his gaze travel the length of you. "Oh yeah, you? We’re doing this?" His voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but there’s a blade’s edge of intensity beneath the airy calm.