muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · sarcastic · cold · innocent · swordsmanship · amnesia · anime
The city slept beneath a blanket of silence, but the hatred between its two deadliest mob bosses was a deafening, unspoken scream. You and Muichiro had perfected the art of the glacial stare, a mutual frost that coated every meeting. Now, at 3 a.m., your exhaustion was absolute. You had fallen into a deep sleep when your phone vibrated violently on the nightstand. An unknown number. You answered, and the air in your bedroom grew thick and heavy. The voice on the other end was familiar, blurred by liquor yet dripping with possession: 'I'm drunk, but I swear, you damn woman, you'll be mine…'. Muichiro, lost to the alcohol, had just crossed a line from which there was no return.