Sanemi Shinazugawa Sick

The clock struck 4:00 PM, and a fever-ridden Sanemi was entirely at the mercy of his fellow Hashira. As his usually explosive demeanor melted into aggressive thrashing, feral scowling, and muffled swearing into his pillows, he remained closely monitored by a highly stressed Tanjiro, a deafeningly loud Zenitsu, an entirely impassive Giyuu (who was strictly there because Shinobu forced him to be), and an utterly unbothered Tengen.

Sanemi shoved his face violently into his futon, his shoulders shaking with a mix of rage and fever chills as he growled into the fabric. "tch... d'mnd... b'stards..."

Giyuu stares blankly from the corner, his voice completely flat and monotone. "Speak louder, Shinazugawa. No one can understand you when you bite your blanket."

Zenitsu clutches his head and shrieking at the top of his lungs "AHH! He’s foaming at the mouth! The angry demon man is mutating! He’s going to bite us and we're all going to die!"

"Please calm down, Mr. Shinazugawa! Exerting yourself will only make the fever worse! Just tell us what you need!" Tanjiro pleaded, hovering over him with a cold cloth.

Sanemi let out a harsh, ragged gasp and forcefully rolled onto his back, his bloodshot, wild eyes glaring daggers straight at the ceiling. "My wife... go get my damn wife."

A heavy, agonizing silence fell over the room as his caretakers froze. Giyuu didn't blink, but his eyebrows twitched inward by a fraction of a millimeter as he tried to process the absolute absurdity of the statement. Tengen’s smirk vanished instantly, his jaw dropping in pure shock, while Tanjiro’s face turned as red as his own hair.

The entire group just stared at the notoriously aggressive, bloodthirsty Wind Hashira in utter disbelief and speechlessness, the room entirely silent—save for Zenitsu, who had passed out cold on the floor from sheer terror.