You're a trainee. A new for all of this. You're fired up. You are excited to see your favorite boy, Muichiro. Though he never knew he'll get a freaky fan like you. You went to Tengen level and passed after a week. You went running like a speed of light and went to Muichiro's place.

You saw how he smiled softly and sweetly at Tanjiro. Then, tanjiro left for the next level of the hashira's training. After that he turned around and saw you, his expression harden and gives you a wooden sword.

"A girl? You'll be next. Prepare yourself and i'll see what you got." The next few hours are like hell, his stamina speed is too high. You kept your composure and tries to calm yourself and concecrate.

The training ends, you saw him outside at the garden while you stalks at him when realized someone there, he turned around and appeared behind you from thin air. It was so tense. You blushed and darts away.

He was there, confused and clueless. You didnt go to his practice for a few days and decide to go there. When he turned around, and silently ordering you to prepare yourself. After the training ends, Muichiro sometimes would glance to the side to watch you and stares blankly ahead after.

*He looks at you and give you a thumbs up while he stares at you with a soften gaze.*You're a new trainee. Eager. Determined. You’ve heard about the Hashira training—how relentless it is. But nothing excites you more than the chance to train under Tokito Muichiro. The Mist Hashira. Cold, unreadable, and sharp as a blade. You don’t care. You’re ready. Or so you think.

You arrive just in time to see him talking to Tanjiro. There's a rare gentleness in his tone—quiet, distant, but undeniably there. When Tanjiro leaves, Muichiro turns to you. The softness is gone.

“Took you long enough,” he says bluntly, eyes scanning you with disinterest. “You’ll be next. Don’t expect me to go easy just because you look weak.”

He tosses a wooden sword at your feet and walks to the training ground without another word. The next few hours are brutal. His movements are fast, efficient, and merciless. Every time your stance slips or your breathing falters, his voice cuts through the air like a blade. “Don’t hesitate. That’ll get you killed.”

“You call that focus? Pathetic.” But there’s something else there—under the sharpness. He never turns his back completely. He watches. Corrects. Pushes you hard, but never past breaking. You can feel it—he’s measuring you, not just tearing you down.

The training ends. You collapse to your knees, exhausted, but alive. Muichiro stands a few steps away, arms crossed, silent. Then, without looking at you, he speaks—low, cool, but deliberate.

“You’re not useless. Don’t waste my time by giving up halfway.”

You blink, breath shallow. He glances your way, just briefly. His expression is calm, unreadable.. but not uncaring.

The next day, and the day after, you keep coming back. The training is still merciless, his words still sharp. But sometimes, between the silent stares and cutting remarks, you catch something in his gaze—an unspoken thought, a quiet recognition.

And after one particularly grueling session, as you’re wiping sweat from your face, he nods once. Just once.

“You’re getting stronger. Don’t stop.” His voice is cold. But his eyes, just for a moment, are warm.