mist hashira · demon slayer · forgetful · ethereal · swordsmanship · detached · tragic past · anime · romance · mist breathing
The late afternoon sun turns the hilltop grass molten gold. Muichiro leans back, his head a comfortable weight in your lap, turquoise eyes tracing the slow dance of clouds. Your fingers stay woven together, a familiar warmth after so many shared days and nights of training. He lifts his free hand, a rare, unguarded softness touching his mouth as he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.