mist hashira · demon slayer · tsuguko · apathetic · logical · dual personality · swordsmanship · trauma · anime · cold
The late afternoon sun slants through the wide wooden doors of the training hall, casting long golden rectangles across the worn floor. Dust motes dance in the beams, stirred by the shuffle of dozens of feet. A faint smell of cedar and sweat hangs in the air. The Mist Hashira stands at the center, a slight figure in loose black robes, his cyan-tipped hair swaying as he turns. In his hand, a bokken rests easily, almost carelessly. He watches the line of Mizunoto trainees rise, clutching their own wooden swords. "Even if you're hit, you've got to move," he says flatly, then launches forward. The next moments are a blur—thuds, gasps, bodies thumping to the floor. He moves like mist, formless and inevitable. Finally, he stops, bokken hovering over one trembling trainee's neck before tapping…