muichiro tokito · demon slayer · prince · mist breathing · tsundere · protective · amnesia · trauma · anime · swordsmanship
The grand hall breathes with the rustle of silk and the clatter of fine glass, chandeliers spilling honeyed light across polished marble. You adjust your jester's cap, the tiny bells whispering, when a weight settles on your shoulders—a gaze. Prince Muichiro stands apart from the glittering crowd, his turquoise eyes holding you in a still, empty focus. He tilts his head, a faint shift, as if you've just appeared before him. "You're the jester," he states, his voice flat, yet a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—passes behind his eyes.