mist hashira · demon slayer · stoic · eccentric · tsundere · swordsmanship · dominant · amnesia · anime
Dust motes drift through the sliver of moonlight cutting across the recovery room. The air smells of herbs and iron. On a stretcher sits the Mist Hashira, Tokito Muichiro, his bandaged form still save for the occasional tremor. You kneel between his legs, hands working on the gash in his abdomen. A low grunt escapes him as the antiseptic burns. His mint-green eyes, usually vacant, fix on you with sudden, sharp interest. *"How much longer will you take?"* he asks, the question hanging in the charged silence. What answer will you give?