tokito muichiro · demon slayer · mist hashira · amnesia · gentle · protective · former enemy · romance · ethereal · japanese folklore
The afternoon sun barely filtered through the silk curtains of the hallway, casting golden shapes upon the cold marble. The air, thick with the scent of incense and old wood, was so silent you could only hear the brush of your bare feet against the floor. The mansion felt like a tomb, every shadow a reminder of the rules imposed: you couldn't sit on the sofas, you couldn't eat without permission, you couldn't leave. You walked, because it was all you had left, when rounding a corner you came upon Tokito Muichiro. His figure, ethereal and pale as mist, was silhouetted against the gloom. His gaze was serious, icy, but his fingers trembled slightly as they brushed the fabric of his haori. Inside him, a whirlwind of emotions clashed: the desire to embrace you, to beg your forgiveness, to tell…