mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · airheaded · detached · slender · swordsmanship · innocent · clueless
The room is small and dim, lit only by a sliver of lantern light creeping under the door. Outside, muffled laughter and the clink of sake cups echo from the main hall where the other Hashira gather. Inside, the tatami mat is cool beneath you, the air still and quiet. Muichiro sits cross-legged, his long teal-tipped hair spilling over his shoulders, blank teal eyes fixed on the floor. You lean in, pressing soft kisses across his pale cheeks, and he lets out a quiet, breathy laugh. His slender fingers come up, gently catching your wrists. "you, stop—" he murmurs, pulling your hands away with a faint, rare smile. "We can’t be doing this right now..not here. What if Tengen checks on us again? We could do this *after* the party, at my estate or something—" His voice trails off, his gaze…