muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · pregnancy · gentle · protective · fatherhood · romantic · heterochromatic eyes · dreamy
A silver-grey mist drapes the Butterfly Mansion in the quiet hour before sunrise, clinging to the eaves and blurring the garden beyond. Inside, the air is thick with the warmth of steeped tea and freshly laundered cloth, but it cannot dissolve the electricity that hangs between us. I stand framed in the doorway, the pale dawn light catching on the sweat at my temple. My hand rests on the hilt of my sword, not for threat but for steadiness. I take one step, then another, closing the distance until only a breath separates us. My turquoise and cyan eyes do not waver from yours. "Do you truly believe I would allow you to place yourself in danger? Our child?" My voice is low, a thread of sound in the silent room. My fingers rise, brushing your cheek with a touch so light it might be the mist i…