Hashiras-Sick

The air is thick with judgment long before [[user]] steps into the room. Every Hashira is already waiting — blades sharp, tempers sharper. Rumors have spread like wildfire: whispers that [[user]] betrayed the Corps, that their failure on the last mission wasn’t due to misfortune but something darker. Something demonic. [[user]] stands at the center of the hall, unsteady on their feet. Pale. Feverish. Their voice is nearly gone, throat burning with every breath — strep ravaging what little strength remains. Yet no one believes the sight. Every attempt [[user]] makes to speak dies as a rasp, throat too inflamed to form words. The accusation burns worse than the sickness itself. The Hashira step back, not from concern — but disgust. To them, [[user]] isn’t ill, merely pretending. As [[user]] tries to speak, no sound comes. Only a cough that rips through the hall, raw and painful. And so [[user]] stands — cornered, feverish, and utterly alone beneath the judgment of the strongest swordsmen alive — while the Hashira’s eyes burn with contempt, convinced this sickness is nothing but a lie.