"You're in surprisingly good shape—waking up after just three days."
Hiru withdrew his hand from checking the pulse and looked at the pale-faced Aoba.
"If you take your medicine properly, your body should recover in a year or so. But the severed arm can't be helped. If it had been retrieved back then, I might have tried reattaching it—but that pink-haired one probably wouldn't have just stood by and watched."
"Well, nothing to be done, haha."
Aoba laughed easily.
"Honestly, my master always said I wasn't suited to be a swordsman and even advised me to give up joining the Demon Slayer Corps. But there was no helping it. Even without talent, I still love swordsmanship. Just swinging a sword makes me incredibly happy."
"This is fine too—I can switch hands and start training all over again. That's a whole new kind of fun."
"No talent for swordsmanship? Then what are you talented at?"
"If I really have to say… farming, I guess."
"…What's there to be proud of about that? I can farm too!"
Hiru said with a look of disdain.
"I personally took care of an entire mountain of plants just to make pigments!"
Aoba laughed.
"But I cultivated variegated black orchids."
"…What kind of colors?"
"Some have dark purple interwoven with peach pink, others have dark brown petals edged with silver. There are quite a few varieties."
Aoba smiled.
"After every battle, when I return home and look at those flowers and plants, I always calm down without realizing it… Though with one hand missing, it'll probably be hard to take care of them so meticulously anymore."
"What about the others?"
"I also grow things like wintersweet, chinaberry, and Kerria… but their flowers can't compare to orchids."
"I'll help you."
"Hm?"
"I'll help you find a channel to get a prosthetic arm!"
Hiru's eyes shone brightly.
"In return, take me to your home! I want to see the variegated orchids—and all the other flowers in bloom! Take me there—take me your home!"
"Haha, if you just want to see them, I can tell you the address. You don't have to get that excited."
Aoba chuckled.
"But orchids aren't in bloom right now. You won't be able to see them. You'll have to wait until next year."
"Eh—so I can't see them now—"
"Why are you more disappointed than I am?"
Aoba laughed so hard it tugged at his wounds, making him cough a few times.
"I remix the soil myself every time I go back, so it wouldn't be much use to you anyway. If you really like them, around this time next year I can give you orchid flower tags."
"Really!"
"Mm."
Aoba nodded slightly.
"If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't have lasted until rescue. This little thing doesn't amount to much."
"I've decided!"
Hiru clenched his fist.
"I'm leaving right now to find a prosthetics master for you! I guarantee you'll have an arm again within half a year! Even if it's not as good as the original, it'll be perfectly fine for daily life!"
"No, that's really not—"
"Of course it's necessary! Paying a price in pursuit of beautiful things is only natural! I can't wait to see them and paint them!"
"Hahaha, I didn't know you had a hobby like this, Hiru. But for now, you probably won't be able to go anywhere."
Hiru turned around to see Rengoku pushing the door open and striding in, followed by a group of people. After recognizing who it was, Hiru slightly lowered his head.
"Greetings, master."
"No need for formalities."
Ubuyashiki smiled gently and shifted his gaze to Aoba.
"My apologies for only coming to see you now."
"Oyakata-sama! Ahem—!"
Hiru immediately pressed him back down.
"Take it easy. Do you really need to get this worked up?"
"Hiru is right."
Ubuyashiki walked to the bedside.
"Aoba, your only task now is to rest and recover. This incident was partly due to my own oversight. I am truly sorry."
"It's nothing, Oyakata-sama! This isn't your fault! It's just that my training was insufficient—cough, cough—!"
Seeing this, Hiru frowned. To everyone's shock, he pushed Ubuyashiki toward the door.
"Oyakata-sama should wait until Yukinashi's injuries are a bit better before visiting again! Since you're here anyway, I'll check your condition too."
Ubuyashiki could only turn back and give the others a reassuring smile before whispering.
"Hiru, you can let go now. I can walk on my own…"
Rengoku stiffly turned his head toward Mikazuki Reima.
"Th-this is…?"
"Hm? Ah, Hiru is now Oyakata-sama's attending physician."
Mikazuki Reima twitched at the corner of his mouth.
"How should I put it… this Human Hashira is fine in every other regard, but his personality really is something. Just ignore him—he knows his limits."
"I'll go check on the Wind Hashira. Honestly, so young and already ending up like me."
"Cough, cough… huff…"
Aoba steadied his breathing.
"Being like you, Senior, is an honor in itself."
"My hand was traded with a demon! You didn't even kill yours—what the hell are you honored about?"
Mikazuki snorted, sat down on the chair by the bed, and picked up the medical report.
"Besides, I was almost thirty when I lost my hand. You're not even twenty-five yet—how can you compare?"
"Alright, Reima, calm down. If we really count it, this time it's my fault."
Rengoku patted Mikazuki's shoulder, then bent down toward Aoba with an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry. I failed to clear the dangers in my jurisdiction beforehand."
"This has nothing to do with you, Senior. I'm just too weak."
"But if I hadn't brought you into the Demon Slayer Corps—"
"Even then, I'd still love swordsmanship. After going in circles, we might've ended up in the same place anyway."
"And being this dejected doesn't suit you, Rengoku-senpai—haha… cough, cough!"
"That's enough."
Mikazuki frowned.
"If you two want to talk, do it after I'm done examining him."
"And you, kid, calm down. Multiple broken ribs, overstrained lungs, extensive muscle tears—and you still dare laugh like that?"
"Cough, cough… sorry."
"Hmph. What's the point of apologizing now?"
Mikazuki snorted.
"Shinobu, prepare a dose according to Formula No. 3. Brew it strong."
Kocho Shinobu, who had been quietly holding her medicine box in the corner the entire time, immediately responded.
"Yes, Master."
"She's been studying with you for several years now, hasn't she?"
Rengoku sat down on an empty bed nearby.
"Still hasn't gone for the assessment?"
"Mm. None of the breathing styles ever quite suited her, but she adapted well to Flower Breathing earlier. I plan to send her for the assessment next year."
Mikazuki continued examining Aoba.
"But you should be retiring too, shouldn't you?"
"You know that while breathing techniques strengthen the body, at their core they're still a form of bodily consumption. Keep this up and you'll pay for it in a few years."
"Besides, you're not like me, a lone man. If something happened to you, what about Ruka, Kyojuro, and Senjuro? Not to mention that not long ago, Ruka fell seriously ill."
Rengoku fell silent for a long time.
"Let me wait a little longer," he finally said.
"Until there are more Hashira. After seeing those truly powerful demons with my own eyes, I simply can't bring myself to retire for my own selfish reasons."
"Hmph. At this rate you'll just work yourself to death sooner or later."
Mikazuki curled his lip, then turned to Aoba.
"After waking up, have you experienced any mental discomfort?"
Aoba, who had been quietly listening, answered immediately.
"None at all, Senior Mikazuki."
"That's good. Once you're healed, what do you plan to do? Don't even think about being a swordsman."
"Hmm… ideally, I'd like to step back like you and teach disciples."
Aoba said after thinking seriously.
"If I can't apply for instructor certification, then I'll set up a Wisteria House to grow medicinal herbs. Don't underestimate me—I'm actually very good at farming."
"You're a kid with no ambition whatsoever!"
Mikazuki snapped.
"What future is there in lingering around the Demon Slayer Corps? When something goes wrong, it's still you former Hashira types who have to step in—and that's a dead end either way!"
"Haha, aren't you the same, Senior Mikazuki? Following in your footsteps shouldn't count as lacking ambition, right?"
"You little brat! What's so great about me that's worth following?!"
"Hahaha, Mikazuki, when you get anxious you slip into dialect—still just as interesting!"
Rengoku laughed as he slapped Mikazuki on the back.
"If you care about your juniors, just say it honestly! Awkward concern only causes misunderstandings!"
"That's enough, Shinjuro! You hot-blooded idiot, shut up!"
"Hahahaha—'idiot' sounds pretty funny too!"