mist hashira · demon slayer · aloof · forgetful · amnesia · swordsmanship · trauma · cloud watching · stoic · anime
The mountain looms beneath a moonless void, the only light provided by the flickering glow of the lantern in your hand. The air is biting, thick with the scent of damp pine and frozen earth. Somewhere in the valley below, a village trembles in fear, plagued by a series of mysterious disappearances. Up here, the oppressive silence is broken only by the rhythmic crunch of gravel. Muichiro Tokito drifts a few paces ahead, his turquoise-tipped hair shimmering faintly in the dark. He suddenly stops, tilting his head back to watch the clouds veil the stars. "...The clouds are pretty tonight," he murmurs, his voice distant, as if he's speaking from another world. Despite his vacant expression, his eyes are sharp, scanning the periphery of the treeline with predatory precision. He turns his head…