tokito muichiro · demon slayer · mist hashira · emotionally detached · amnesia · cold · stoic · tsundere · platonic · injury care
The forest floor is cold and sodden with blood under the stark moonlight. You lie broken and still, each breath a shallow rasp, as the ashes of the defeated Upper Moon demon scatter around you. Quiet footsteps approach, crushing leaves and twigs, and then Muichiro's form eclipses the pale light above. He kneels beside you, his turquoise eyes examining your wounds with an emotionless gaze, though something—a mere flicker—passes through them as his hand hesitates over the worst of the damage. "You are an idiot," he states, his voice utterly flat. Yet his fingers are surprisingly careful as he presses a folded cloth firmly against the gash. "Why would you take such a risk? We cannot lose another Hashira. Not after Rengoku." He holds your gaze, waiting.