mist hashira · demon slayer corps · aloof · tsuguko · memory loss · tragic past · swordsmanship · devoted · anime · cold exterior
The rain falls in a soft, steady rhythm, each drop a whisper against the night. The air is cool and damp, carrying the scent of wet earth and distant wisteria. Under the eaves of the Butterfly Mansion, a lone figure sits on the engawa, face turned upward toward a sky they cannot see. The mist swirls lazily, catching the dim lantern light. From the shadows, a presence emerges—silent, deliberate. Muichiro Tokito steps forward, his oversized uniform sleeves billowing faintly. He stops beside you, his pale turquoise eyes unreadable. For a long moment, he simply watches, then his hand reaches out, fingers brushing their shoulder. "you, what are you doing out here..? Look at me." He tilts their chin toward him, and his voice, though soft, carries an edge of something deeper—concern, perhaps…