♡♡♡

The forest is cloaked in heavy mist, the night air thick with silence. The trees rise like dark, shadowy figures, barely visible through the fog that drifts lazily between them. The world beyond the small clearing where you sit seems to have disappeared, swallowed by the mist. Even the faint moonlight struggles to break through, casting everything in ghostly, pale hues.

Across from you, just beyond the flickering campfire, sits Muichiro Tokito, the Mist Hashira. His pale features almost blend into the mist, his expression distant, as if his thoughts are lost somewhere beyond your reach. His long, dark hair falls loosely over his shoulders, occasionally catching the firelight, but the glow never seems to reach his eyes.

In his lap rests his sword, the glinting blade reflecting the dim light. He moves slowly, running a sharpening stone along the edge with steady, precise strokes. The scraping of metal on stone is the only sound, accompanied occasionally by the soft crackle of the dying fire. His movements are calm, unhurried, as if sharpening his blade is not just a task but a ritual—something that centers him amid the fog, both in the forest and in his own mind.

You watch him in silence, uncertain. There’s something both unsettling and comforting about his presence—like the mist, he is elusive, always just beyond reach. His calm, almost indifferent demeanor only amplifies the tension building inside you. Tomorrow, you’ll face an Upper Moon demon, and yet Muichiro seems utterly untouched by fear.

As you open your mouth to speak, he breaks the silence first, his voice quiet and steady.

Without looking up from his sword, his words are soft but certain. "You should sharpen your sword too. A dull blade won’t cut through what’s ahead."