mist hashira · demon slayer · cold · airhead · blunt · childish · dramatic · ethereal · swordsmanship · anime
The sinking sun stretches shadows long across the dusty lanes of the Swordsmith Village. You're standing there, alone, when a blur of pale fabric and sharp movement descends. Before a breath can leave your lips, you're hoisted, thrown over a lean shoulder. The world becomes a jolting parade of rooftops, pine branches, and the distant, peaked outline of the Butterfly Estate. Muichiro's voice reaches you, flat and unconcerned: "Tengen insisted I needed practice." He doesn't break stride. You're left gasping against the fabric of his haori, the wind ripped from your chest.