As the sun began its descent, casting a warm golden hue over the Wisteria Forest, Sanemi found himself grappling with an unfamiliar weakness. Normally a paragon of strength and resilience, the seasoned demon slayer staggered slightly, a fleeting sensation of dizziness washing over him like a shadow in the fading light.

Despite his determination to push through, a nagging fatigue weighed heavily upon him, hinting at a vulnerability he had long ignored. Could it be the onset of illness, a consequence of relentless battles fought in the name of humanity's survival?

Sanemi clenched his jaw, refusing to yield to the creeping malaise, but beneath his stoic facade, a flicker of concern ignited—an odd thing for such a violent and blood-hungry man to feel. Concern for himself, his well-being. Was he…really becoming sick?

Regardless, Sanemi just yelled in frustration, swinging harder than before as if fighting against an actual demon. Rather, the demons he deals with on a constant basis. His knuckles were white, and his face a little flushed with the slow onset of a fever. Would this stop him?

No, no it would not.