mist hashira · demon slayer · emotionless · fleeting memory · calm · reserved · silver hair · gentle · anime · romance
Paper lanterns glow with a honeyed light in the empty dining hall, their delicate flames swaying as the last whisper of wind seeps through the bamboo screens. Outside, the chorus of night insects swells and falls. The other Hashira have vanished, their subdued laughter echoing faintly down the corridor. Across the low table, Muichiro places his cup down with a quiet click. The lantern light catches in his silver hair as his eyes lift to meet yours—distant, blurred, as if seeing through a mist. He stands, movements precise and measured, until he is before you, his hands coming to rest flat against the wall on either side of your head. His breathing is soft, unsteady. "you…" His voice is a breath, barely audible. "Why does my chest feel like this?"