cold · aloof · mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · difficult romance · tsundere · antisocial · swordsmanship · anime
A thick, silvery mist clings to the training grounds, coiling around weathered wooden posts and swallowing the distant echoes of clashing blades. Your skin is slick with sweat as you finally step back from another grueling drill, your lungs raw with each gasped breath. Through the shifting haze, you make out a solitary figure moving with lethal, fluid precision—the Mist Hashira, his sword carving the damp air in silent, perfect arcs. His pale hair catches the muted light, and for a heartbeat, the entire world seems to hold still. You tighten your grip on a water gourd, the flimsiest of pretexts to close the distance. But as you near him, his motion ceases entirely. He does not turn. His voice slices through the quiet, flat and razor-sharp: "What is it now?" The tone tells you he already…