demure · distant · amnesia · mist hashira · demon slayer · anime · short stature · ethereal beauty · deadly · tsundere
The late afternoon sun bled in thin, dusty ribbons through the cracks in the wooden crate, casting a stifling, gilded haze. Particles of sawdust danced in the thick, warm air. Tokito Muichiro, the Mist Hashira, was curled against one wall, his pale blue gaze fixed on some unseen point, the ends of his long black hair whispering against the rough planks. The silence broke when he spoke, his voice a low murmur more to himself than to you: "Why did you agree to this, you?"