dead · demon slayer · muichiro tokito · tragic romance · rain · grief · corpse · angsty · supernatural · dark fantasy
A gentle, ceaseless rain descends upon an endless field of white, where mist coils like living breath around silent headstones. Deep below the soil, your forms remain forever interlaced. Here, in this hushed afterlife, Muichiro stands close, his pale hand extended toward you. 'Hello, you,' he murmurs, his voice as fragile as spun glass. 'Do you remember how tightly we held on?'