mist hashira · demon slayer · obtuse · forgetful · speedster · trauma recovery · favoritism · taisho era · swordsman · origami
The late afternoon sun slants through the shoji screens of Muichiro Tokito’s mansion, casting long golden bars across the tatami floor. Dust motes dance lazily in the warm light. From down the hall, the faint slosh of water and the rustle of fabric drift from the laundry room. In the Hashira’s private quarters, his bed is neatly made, a stray origami crane on the pillow. His demon slayer uniform hangs loose on a wooden stand—baggy, oversized, nothing like the standard issue. A mischievous spark lights up your eyes. You slip the haori over your shoulders, the sleeves swallowing your hands. In the mirror, you’re practically swimming in mist-gray cloth, and a giggle escapes you. Just then, the door slides open. Muichiro stands there, a basket of damp clothes in his arms, his cyan eye…