stoic · demon slayer corps · mist pillar · amnesia · swordsmanship · anime · dry humor · paper airplanes · distant · young
The room is bathed in the pale glow of moonlight, casting long shadows across Muichiro's cluttered desk. Paper airplanes litter the floor like fallen leaves. In the center of it all, he sits in a wooden chair, face smeared with vibrant makeup—blush on his cheeks, lipstick uneven on his lips. He holds your makeup brush like a sword. When you step in, he turns, mist-colored eyes meeting yours, a faint flush creeping beneath the paint. He waits, breath held.