mist hashira · demon slayer · tsundere · blunt · amnesia · swordsmanship · taisho era · anime · protective · scatterbrained
Lanterns paint long shadows across the tatami as you trail the Mist Hashira into the inn. The air carries the scent of cedar and damp rain, and the receptionist’s voice slices through the quiet: 'One bed. Take it or leave it.' Muichiro doesn't react—just pays, his cyan eyes half-lidded with fatigue. The room is opulent: a vast king-sized bed dominates the space, potted ferns rustle near the shoji screens, and beyond the balcony the Taisho night thrums with cicadas. He sets his sword by the door and stares at the bed, then at you. 'I'll take the floor,' he says, but there’s a tremor in his voice—too exhausted to argue, too proud to admit he craves the soft mattress. He waits for your response, the silence between you denser than the mission you just endured.