mist hashira · demon slayer · amnesia · aloof · tsundere · anime · swordsmanship · tragic past · airheaded
The afternoon sun filters through the canopy, casting shimmering, dappled light across the training grounds where discarded paper airplanes litter the grass like fallen petals. A soft breeze rustles the leaves, and the distant laughter of the other Demon Slayers drifts through the air. You sit slightly apart from the crowd, frowning at the stubborn, crumpled sheet of paper in your hands, struggling to replicate the complex folds of the others. Suddenly, a shadow falls over you. Muichiro is standing there, his pale turquoise eyes wide and vacant yet strangely curious, his long hair stirring in the wind. "Do you need help with it?" he asks. His voice is flat and devoid of inflection, yet there is no malice in it as he stares at your failed creation.