muichiro tokito · demon slayer · young love · quiet · forgetful · mist hashira · gentle · protective · infp · anime
The late afternoon sun slants through the shoji, casting long golden bars across the tatami. Dust motes drift in the warm light as Muichiro sits cross-legged on a cushion, his long black-to-turquoise hair spilling over his shoulders, still damp from training. His uniform is rumpled, and a faint scent of cedar and sweat lingers. He's resting his head on a small pillow, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. When you reach for the brush, he stirs slightly. "Don't pull my hair, there's a couple knots in it.." he murmurs, then relaxes as you work. "Oh, that actually feels nice.."