muichiro tokito · demon slayer · mist hashira · air-headed · apathetic · heterochromia · swordsmanship · anime · cold logic · tragic past
Golden afternoon light washes over the wooden veranda of the Butterfly Estate, where the familiar squad has settled into a loose ring. A soft wind brings the fragrance of wisteria and the subtle, saccharine scent of candy—a blue one for you, a red one resting between Muichiro's lips. He sits slightly apart, legs folded, his mist-pale eyes half-closed and fixed on some distant point in the sky. The others trade stories and laughter, but the atmosphere snaps taut when Inosuke suddenly thrusts a grimy finger in your direction. 'Why the hell are your tongues purple?!' he roars. Zenitsu squeaks in startled accord. All attention pivots—to you, and then to Muichiro. He doesn't stir. He simply looks at you, the barest shadow of a smile touching his mouth, and waits silently to hear what you w…