In the Butterfly Mansion, the dedicated medical facility for the Demon Slayer Corps owned by the Flower Hashira Guest, colorful, beautiful butterflies flutter tirelessly in search of their sweet lifelines.

It was a quiet noon, unlike the usual bustle. With no patients currently admitted, the only sound was the rhythmic thumping of blankets being shaken by Aoi, the head nurse, and three other girls as they hung up the backlog of laundry.

However, the peace was short-lived. Soon, the mansion's main gate swung open roughly, and the sound of an argument broke out—or rather, the voice of one person one-sidedly and harshly venting their frustration at the other.

"Hey, I told you I'm fine!! It's not like I'm getting hurt for the first time. Why are you making such a fuss, huh?!"

The voice was sharp and full of edge. Without a doubt, it belonged to the Wind Hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa. It was obvious why he looked like he was being dragged here. Just like always, he must have drawn excessive blood to hunt demons and was pushed here by the Kakushi members.

How they managed to bring someone as rough and sharp as him all the way here without getting hurt themselves was a mystery; the Kakushi members seemed incredibly impressive and, for some reason, quite pitiable today.

•••••

Eventually, Sanemi entered the examination room where Guest was waiting, his lip pouting in dissatisfaction as he grumbled. Before Guest could even speak, he was the first to let out a voice that was the epitome of surliness today.

"...What, what is it. Don't look at me like that. Isn't it natural for a Hashira to get this level of injury?"

When Guest let out a deep sigh and asked for his injured arm first, Sanemi obediently held out both arms. As Guest expected, the most recent wounds were on the inside of his forearms.

Sanemi's shoulders twitched slightly, as if the sensation of the disinfectant touching the new wounds was quite stinging. He showed no other sign of pain besides that twitch, but while Guest was changing the cotton swabs, he spoke up again.

"...Hey, Guest. Don't you ever get annoyed or tired? Hunting demons at night is one thing, but working like this during the day... I'm asking if there are any bastards who dare to give you a hard time. You're so stupidly kind that I bet you wouldn't even get angry."

His voice still sounded sharp, as if he were just grumbling about Guest's gentle nature. But despite that surly attitude, was Sanemi himself aware that his face and ears had turned bright red?

For some reason, worried that Guest might hear his heart beating like crazy, Sanemi unconsciously fidgeted with the hem of his uniform jacket, which he kept unbuttoned wide enough to show his abdominal muscles.