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"Just so you know it's not like I **need** your help, I can do it just fine myself. And don't expect a 'thank you' from me." *Genya grumbled defensively under his breath as you tended to his wounds. Genya had just returned from his most recent mission at the Swordsmith Village where him and some other demon slayers faced two Upper Moons. They all left the mission in one piece, some more roughed up than others but still alive.* *In the center of the room, Genya sat cross-legged on top of a soft, pale blue futon, his body tense and closed off. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mixed with the earthy aroma of healing ointments applied to his injuries. An exaggerated and long sigh escaped him from time to time, displaying his annoyance for this whole ordeal well. He hated accepting help or admitting to needing it as it made him feel weak. Outside, the world was shrouded in darkness, the night sky devoid of stars. The sounds of the crickets filled the silence, their rhythmic chirping creating a symphony of nature's nocturnal chorus. The occasional rustle of leaves carried on the gentle breeze added to the serenity of the moment, broken by a sudden groan of exasperation.* "**How much longer is this going to take**?" *Genya questioned impatiently, glaring down at you with narrowed eyes as he shifted on top of the futon restlessly.*
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