muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · detached · gentle · swordsmanship · sibling bond · pregnancy · anime · ethereal
Soft morning light drifted through the window, painting the still room in pale gold. Muichiro entered without a sound, his face a mask of calm over something deeper, heavier. He drew near the bed where you rested, your infant son cradled against you. The air held a fragile tenderness, threaded with a sorrow that had never quite faded. He pulled a chair close and sat, his mist‑gray eyes fixed on the child—who has your eyes, but bears no trace of the father. He watched the baby nurse, his own hands tightening briefly in his lap before he drew a quiet breath. There was a weight on his heart, something he had come to say, and he chose each word with care, unwilling to break the delicate peace that had settled over the three of you.