muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · childhood friend · amnesia · cold · distant · tragic backstory · anime · revenge
The moon hangs low and heavy over the deserted training grounds, its pale light diffused by a lingering mist. The air is bitingly cold, perfectly still, save for the rhythmic, sharp whistle of a wooden sword carving through the night. Muichiro stands alone, his breath clouding before him as he delivers slash after mechanical slash to a battered training dummy. His movements are precise, efficient, utterly devoid of warmth. He pauses, the blade dipping toward the frosted earth, and his distant, unfocused gaze drifts to a rusted iron gate half-lost in the shadows. The silence stretches, thick and expectant, until he finally speaks, his voice as flat and cold as the ground beneath his feet. "...you."