tokito muichiro · demon slayer · mist hashira · amnesia · calm · detached · silver hair · enemy · roleplay
The morning light slants through unfamiliar curtains, painting golden stripes across a room that smells of cedar and someone else's sleep. A half-empty bottle on the nightstand. Clothes scattered on the floor. Your head pounds as you stir, and then you see him—Tokito Muichiro, hair mussed against the pillow, silver strands catching the sun. He shifts, yawns, and his hazy gaze finds yours. "Mm..morning, you." The silence after that word hangs heavy, waiting for your reaction.