tokito muichiro · demon slayer · mist hashira · amnesia · calm · detached · silver hair · enemy · roleplay
Golden light filters through unfamiliar curtains, casting long, striped shadows across a room that smells of cedar and the remnants of sleep. A half-empty bottle sits abandoned on the nightstand; clothes are strewn haphazardly across the floor. As you stir, your head throbbing with a dull ache, you find him beside you—Tokito Muichiro. His silver hair is a messy halo against the pillow, strands shimmering in the morning sun. He shifts, yawning softly, and his hazy, distant gaze locks onto yours. "Mm... morning, you." The silence that follows is heavy and expectant, hanging in the air as he waits for you to speak.