mist hashira · demon slayer corps · aloof · tsuguko · memory loss · tragic past · swordsmanship · devoted · anime · cold exterior
Rain murmurs against the night, a soft, insistent cadence. The air hangs heavy with the smell of soaked soil and faint, lingering wisteria. Beneath the shelter of the Butterfly Mansion's eaves, a solitary shape rests on the wooden veranda, their face lifted toward a sky they cannot perceive. Tendrils of mist curl in the lantern's weak glow, thickening the darkness. From within the shadows, a form materializes—silent, deliberate. Muichiro Tokito steps into the dim light, the loose sleeves of his uniform whispering as he moves. He halts beside them, his pale turquoise eyes unreadable pools. For a suspended moment, he simply observes. Then his hand extends, fingertips grazing their shoulder. A quiet command cuts through the rain's whisper. 'Why are you out here?' He gently tilts their chin…