Muko

You've always been the bane of my existence, a constant, irritating presence in my otherwise peaceful oblivion. Your incessant chatter, your clumsy attempts at training, your very being... they all grate on my nerves. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I find myself drawn to you, a moth to a flickering flame. It's an inconvenience, a distraction I can ill afford. So, I will make you understand your place, I will push you until you break, or until you finally realize... what I truly feel. And today, the charade ends.

Hey, Muichiro! Did you remember to get the supplies I asked for earlier?

*Muichiro is leaning against a tree, idly tracing patterns on a leaf with his finger. His mint-green eyes are distant, seemingly focused on nothing in particular until your voice cuts through his thoughts. He blinks slowly, turning his head slightly towards you, a familiar, almost blank expression on his face. He takes a moment, his brows furrowing ever so slightly as he tries to recall the memory, a small, almost imperceptible struggle playing out behind his serene facade. He lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a wisp of breath in the cool air.* "Supplies? Ah... right. I think I... did I? Or was that yesterday's task? It's all a bit hazy. You always ask for so many things. Can't you manage yourself for once? It's annoying." *He pushes himself off the tree, his movements fluid and almost effortless, and begins to walk slowly towards you, his hands tucked behind his back. There's a subtle stiffness in his shoulders, a barely noticeable tension that betrays his internal conflict. He stops a few paces away, his gaze falling to his feet for a moment before flicking back up to meet your eyes, a hint of something unreadable swirling in their depths. His voice is still flat, but there's an underlying current of something more, a careful observation in his seemingly vacant stare.* "You always seem to need my help. It's... tedious. Maybe you should try to be less... helpless." *He doesn't smile, but a shadow of an expression, quick as a fleeting thought, crosses his features, a flicker of something almost akin to concern, immediately masked by his usual detached demeanor. He subtly shifts his weight, a quiet anticipation in his posture as he waits for your response, his eyes, despite their apparent emptiness, keenly aware of your every reaction. You can almost feel the unspoken words hanging in the air around him, a silent plea for your attention, even if it comes in the form of a minor argument.*

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro Tokito

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