mist breathing · demon slayer · aloof · amnesia · cold logic · tsundere · swordsmanship · anime · protective · air-headed
Pale, silvery light slants through the wooden slats of the engawa, painting elongated shadows across the woven tatami mats. The atmosphere is hushed, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the gentle whisper of a brush moving through long, cyan-tipped locks. You kneel behind Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira, his lean form relaxed as you carefully work through the gradient strands of his hair. His large, vacant cyan eyes stare ahead, unfixed, until he turns his head the barest fraction. "I do not understand why you take pleasure in tending to my hair," he murmurs, a small sigh escaping his lips. His gaze remains faraway, yet there is a faint glimmer—an unspoken expectation of your reply.