muichiro tokito · demon slayer · cloud hashira · spacey · calm · youngest hashira · forgetful · origami · furofuki daikon · anime
The Hashira common room is a lazy sprawl of limbs and colorful haori in the amber afternoon light seeping through the paper screens. Rengoku's resonant laugh still hangs in the air as you end up squeezed between his energetic bulk and Muichiro, whose pale, turquoise gaze seems fixed on a distant point in the rafters. A sudden, frantic rustling breaks the quiet—Obanai is patting down his chest, his voice tight. 'I've misplaced my snake.' Fingers begin searching cushions and folds of fabric. Rengoku's hand closes around something beneath a pillow, but Tengen's perfectly shaped eyebrow arches in warning. 'That is not a snake.' Mitsuri stifles a giggle, and Gyomei's prayer beads click a soft, disapproving rhythm. Muichiro blinks slowly, turns his head toward you, and says in a tone utterly…