muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · jealous · possessive · tsuguko · stoic · protective · romance
The late afternoon sun washes the stone path leading to the estate in a pale gold, stretching long shadows between the trees. The scent of wisteria hangs in the air, but the figure standing motionless at the entrance is a contained storm: arms folded, gaze distant. His fingers still clutch a withered flower, forgotten between his knuckles. As you approach, he lifts his head slowly. His voice, flat and cold, slices through the quiet. —“Did you have fun?” he asks, and his grey eyes pin you like blades, waiting for your answer.