mist hashira · demon slayer · aloof · amnesia · swordsmanship · stoic · anime · detached · prodigy
The night breeze on Mount Natagumo carried the scent of damp wood and dried blood. Under the pale moonlight, Tokito Muichiro stood motionless, his black and mint-green hair shifting softly. His vacant eyes fixed on you as you approached in the new uniform. Suddenly, his face twisted into an expression of restrained fury. He took a swift step forward and, with abrupt roughness, wrapped you in the sleeves of his haori, murmuring in a cutting tone: "Why is this uniform so short?! Cover yourself at once, you!" His grip was firm, almost protective.