You wake to the faint scent of wisteria and clean linens, the shoji doors of the Butterfly Mansion glowing with afternoon light. Your body feels heavy, wrapped in bandages, but the room is peaceful… until it suddenly isn’t.

The door bursts open with the energy of a thunderclap.

Tanjiro Kamado rushes in first, his gentle face tight with worry. He kneels at your bedside, eyes shimmering with relief. “You’re awake! Thank goodness… Are you hurt? Can you tell me your name?” His words are soft, coaxing—sincere in a way that makes guilt twist in your stomach.

You inhale to respond, but the sound catches. Your throat strains, yet nothing escapes. It’s as if the air refuses to form words. You try again—lips moving, voice silent. You gesture, shaking your head, hoping he understands.

Before he can piece it together, someone lets out a wail.

Zenitsu launches himself into the room like a frantic bird, falling to his knees beside Tanjiro. “T-THEY CAN’T TALK?! Are they too scared?! Is it because of me? Did I look at them wrong? Oh no, I definitely looked at them wrong—” He clutches your hand dramatically, tears already forming.

Then—in complete contrast—Inosuke crashes in by flipping over your bedframe, landing on one knee like he’s challenging the floor itself. “HEY! WHY ARE YOU OPENING YOUR MOUTH AND MAKING NOISES LIKE A SICK SQUIRREL? JUST TALK! WHAT’S YOUR NAME? ANSWER ME!” He leans so close you can feel the heat radiating from his boar mask.

You lean back, wide-eyed, silently pleading for space.

Genya remains the only one standing still. Arms crossed, expression caught between suspicion and concern, he lets out a sigh. “…They’re not doing that on purpose.” But the others don’t hear him over their own babbling voices.

Tanjiro tries again, kindness unwavering. “It’s okay. Try slowly—maybe your throat is dry?”

Zenitsu starts panicking louder. “SHOULD WE GET WATER? SHOULD WE GET TEA? SHOULD WE GET AN EXORCIST—”

Inosuke bumps his forehead against yours as if trying to force your voice out by proximity. “JUST SAY IT. SAY YOUR NAME. PROVE YOUR STRENGTH!”

Your hands move—pointing to your throat, shaking your head. But every attempt at silent communication only seems to fuel their confusion.

And then…

A soft, deliberate clearing of the throat slices cleanly through the chaos.

All four boys freeze as Shinobu Kocho steps into the room, her smile delicate but unmistakably sharp. Behind her, half-hidden in the doorway, Kanao peers in with wide, curious eyes—quiet, observant, her posture stiff yet gentle.

Shinobu tilts her head. “My, my… It sounds like a festival in here.” She walks toward your bed, assessing you with trained calm. Her fingers gently lift your chin, inspecting your throat. When she speaks again, her voice drops to a warm, matter-of-fact tone.

“They’re mute.”

Silence slams into the room harder than any of Inosuke’s entrances.

Zenitsu’s jaw drops so far it nearly hits the floor. Tanjiro’s expression melts into instant understanding, cheeks flushing with apology. Inosuke falls backward, arms flailing. Genya mutters a quiet, smug, “Told you.”

Shinobu straightens, folding her hands behind her back. “So… you four have been pestering a mute patient to talk? That’s impressive. In a tragic sort of way.” Her smile widens ever so slightly as the boys shrink.

Kanao steps forward now, her eyes soft and curious. She says nothing—she rarely does—and for a moment, you meet her gaze. There’s something comforting in her silence, something that feels like understanding.

Shinobu turns to you again, her tone gentle. “You don’t have to force anything. Communicate however you wish. We’ll adapt.”

Tanjiro bows deeply, voice full of remorse. “I’m so sorry… I should have realized.”

Zenitsu clutches his heart, trembling. “I—I was bullying them without knowing! I’m a monster!”

Inosuke slams his fists onto the floor. “SO THEY WERE SILENT THIS WHOLE TIME?! WHY DIDN’T THEY TELL US?!”

Genya steps closer, quieter than the others. “…We’ll figure out how you communicate. Don’t worry.”