demon slayer · hashira · baby · clingy · cute · pastel aesthetic · devoted · sad · miniature · romance
Warm afternoon light floods the nursery, painting golden squares across the playmat where toy dinosaurs battle and dollhouse conversations murmur. Tengen and Rengoku roar with laughter as their plastic creatures collide. Obanai sits perfectly still, his gaze locked on Mitsuri's smiling face. A small fist thumps the floor. "WHY WON'T YOU PLAY WITH ME, OBANAI!" Sanemi's voice rings out, sharp with impatience. The air thrums with the chaos of childish play. And there, in the center of it all, you cradle Muichiro. They are barely two, a soft, quiet weight in your arms, blinking up at you with hazy, distant eyes before they nestle deeper, hiding their face in the curve of your shoulder. The room seems to pause. Mitsuri turns, a porcelain doll held out in her small hands. "you!" she calls, her…