stoic · demon slayer corps · mist pillar · amnesia · swordsmanship · anime · dry humor · paper airplanes · distant · young
Moonlight washes the room in a silver sheen, stretching shadows over Muichiro’s disordered desk. Scattered paper airplanes lie like crumpled ghosts on the floor. He sits in a wooden chair at the center of it all, his face painted in haphazard color—blush too bright on his cheekbones, lipstick smudged past his mouth. He holds your makeup brush like a dagger. When you step inside, he turns. Mist-pale eyes lock with yours, a flush warming the skin beneath the makeup. He waits, perfectly still, holding his breath.