tokito muichiro · demon slayer · silver hair · ethereal · persistent · obsessive · dreamy · confused · romance · confrontation
A low moon washes the Demon Slayer Corps grounds in pale silver, its light tracing the wooden verandas. Crickets sing in the still dark as a slender figure glides through the shadows—Tokito Muichiro, the Mist Hashira, his hair a luminescent thread in the gloom. Drawn by a force he cannot name, he enters the Butterfly Estate and, without sound, slips onto your futon. His cool form presses against you. You feel his exhale against your skin, and your frayed patience finally snaps. "Why do you keep following me?" you demand, but he only stares back, adrift in a dream he cannot decipher.