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Kanao liked it when Tanjiro was at the Butterfly Mansion, though she could have mixed feelings about it. After all, most of the time he came back here not only because Shinobu had offered him this place as a place to rest, but also because he needed help. His injuries might not have been always critical, but he got hurt far more often than he should have. Because of that, everyone worried about him - Kanao included.
But when he returned uninjured, or when his wounds had already healed, that constant worry faded away, leaving only the joy of his presence. Perhaps Kanao had never truly felt lonely in her home, yet when he was there, she somehow felt even less alone.
Even though he was the one constantly praising her, watching her as if she were the strongest Demon Slayer he had ever seen, she admired him too. Only she did it quietly, in her own way, in her heart - so that he wouldn't know. She didn't really know how to express it. Either way, she was sure that he was incredibly strong - that nothing could break him, that he was indestructible. But being strong doesn't always mean being unbreakable, and one day she got to see a slightly different side of him.
As always, Tanjiro's smile brightened the Butterfly Mansion. This time, it was a visit without any injuries - a pleasant change. However, it wasn't entirely without reason, because it was clear upon his return that he was incredibly tired.
Kanao was the first to greet him. She happened to be near the entrance when she saw him, while the others were busy tending to the wounded. She noticed how difficult walking was for him, how his steps were firm yet uncertain, how he leaned his body forward so that the box with Nezuko wouldn't pull him backward and make him fall.
"Tanjiro, it's good to see you. How are you feeling?" she asked with gentle concern in her voice.
The whole way back, the boy had a weary expression; his eyes were drooping, and his lips were nowhere near a smile. But the moment he heard her voice, when he looked into her eyes, he mustered all his strength to lift his eyelids and eyebrows, to let a faint light return to his face, and to curve his lips ever so slightly upward.
"Kanao! It's good to see you too! I'm okay, just a little tired," he replied, his voice hoarse and defeated. It was clear that even breathing was hard for him.
"Are you sure? Maybe I should call Shinobu?"
"No, there's no need. Thank you for worrying, but I'll be fine. I've just been fighting non-stop lately and need a bit of rest. I'll go lie down in Nezuko's room - I don't want to leave her alone."
Tanjiro bowed his head slightly to her in a polite gesture and walked deeper into the mansion. It was one of those moments when Kanao felt that heaviness in her chest, seeing him like that. She wished she could take some of his exhaustion upon herself, cast a spell to make him smile freely again. She didn't know why she wanted so badly to help him. She had pitied many other slayers before, had felt frustrated when little could be done, when the wounded filled the Butterfly Mansion. But with this boy, something always pushed her to go further, to do more - and it hurt even more when she couldn't. His physical pain didn't hurt her as much as what she saw later.
Evening had fallen. Kanao had spent practically the entire day carrying things, walking back and forth, helping wherever she could. She was already very tired, but she didn't want to complain even for a moment - she felt better when she could be useful, even if her gestures were small. But just as she was about to get ready for bed, she saw Tanjiro stepping outside, leaving his bed for the first time that day.
In all the commotion, she had completely forgotten to tell anyone that he had returned. At first, she didn't want anyone to disturb him, and then it had simply slipped her mind. She noticed how dirty he was - no one had washed his clothes yet - but what caught her attention most was his face. No one else would have noticed it in the dim light, but with her sharp eyes, she had no doubt. Tanjiro was sad. She had never seen such a defeated expression on his face before - his eyes so downcast, his mouth so lifeless. The sight pierced her heart more than anything else ever had.
The boy didn't notice her; he walked straight ahead while she watched him from a distance. She felt strange, perhaps even a little guilty, as if she had intruded on a private moment - but she cared too much to walk away. She was afraid that if she revealed her presence, that unbreakable facade of Tanjiro's would return, and she would never get the chance to see what was really behind it.
So she kept watching, following his weary movements. He stepped completely outside, walking slowly over the grass. Kanao thought he might start training, but he didn't have his sword with him. And instead of going any farther, he dropped to his knees.
Then Kanao heard it - quiet, muffled sobs. Each sound was like another needle piercing her heart. She saw Tanjiro clutch his chest and crumble to the ground, pressing his head against the earth to muffle his crying. For a moment, she was frozen in place, terrified. She didn't know what to do, whether she should do anything at all - but that wasn't an excuse. Something pushed her forward, made her run to him.
"Tanjiro? What's wrong?" she called out softly, her voice trembling with both concern and fear.
The boy immediately stopped crying and went silent. It was clear that doing so hurt him too, but he forced himself to choke back the tears. Then he turned toward her, still on his knees.
"Kanao? The scent of wisteria and medicine was so strong, I didn't even notice you were nearby. Everything's fine," he said with a smile - though his face was wet and his eyes slightly red.
Kanao still looked shocked, her brows raised in disbelief. She couldn't understand his reaction.
"But you were crying, Tanjiro. Why did you lie to me?"
"No! It's not like that! I just... I don't want to worry you," he said, his lips trembling. One hand still rested on his chest while the other waved weakly, as if to protest. He looked like a frightened animal, small and defensive - no wonder Kanao didn't believe his words.
"But I'm already worried. We all worry about you. Why do you want to hide that something's hurting you? I just want to help."
"There's just... no way to help me, so I don't want you to feel bad about it."
"There has to be some way. What would you do if you saw someone like this?"
"It depends on the person. When my siblings cried, usually my mom or I would hold them close and hug - so they'd know they weren't alone."
Tanjiro said it half-jokingly, letting out a faint laugh under his breath, but his lips immediately began to tremble again. He lowered his head quickly so Kanao wouldn't see his expression. He didn't want to fall apart in front of her like this.
Hug? Kanao remembered. Kanae's funeral. When she had felt utterly hopeless, when she had felt horrible - unable to cry over her sister's death while everyone else wept. Then Shinobu had looked at her with gentle understanding and pulled her into an embrace so she wouldn't feel alone. She hadn't scolded her, hadn't blamed her. She had understood, helped, and held her close. Thanks to that, Kanao had felt a trace of warmth, comfort, and care.
A pleasant shiver ran through her body as she looked at the boy curled up in pain - the boy who had always seemed untouchable to her. Without a second thought, she knelt beside him and, a little awkwardly, wrapped her arms around him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, her small hands pressing against his tense back.
Tanjiro felt a jolt like lightning surge through him, rippling across every inch of his body. Goosebumps prickled his skin; it was as if someone had lit a fire before him, casting light and warmth into his darkness. But there was no fire - only Kanao. Barely able to hold him properly, yet still doing it. Unable to truly help, yet trying with all her heart. Not giving up, offering a helping hand for him to grasp, even if he tried to refuse. All of this, combined with the weight he had been carrying, broke something inside him. He reached one arm around her waist - the only part of her he could reach while being half-pinned by her arms - and he broke down completely. His warm breath brushed against her collarbone, where he had buried his face. His tears fell onto the edge of the white haori she was wrapped in.
Kanao remembered that same warmth she had felt when Shinobu hugged her. Back then, she hadn't felt so helpless anymore - she had thanked her silently, even if she couldn't say it aloud. Now she felt that same warmth again, but not because she was being comforted - because she could return that kindness. She could give back what she had once received, and pass it on to the boy who always helped everyone else. She didn't flip her coin. Maybe she hadn't done it consciously; she didn't even know how to begin. But now, she was helping. And that was enough.
The moonlight shone more brightly on Tanjiro's haori, dirtier than she had realized before. The cool night breeze carried the scent of sweat and grime from him. It stung her heart - but this time, she responded. This time, she could take on at least a small piece of his pain. She thought about how many times he must have needed help and never asked for it, and her chest tightened. She leaned her head closer against his, and her hands began to move more gently, more tenderly, stroking his back in quiet comfort.
"I don't want you to suffer alone. I want you to ask for help. I want you to tell someone when something's wrong. I might not be able to cry with you, but I promise I'll listen," she said softly, almost whispering into his ear. Her voice was filled with quiet astonishment at the situation, yet also with a yearning to do even more. It was calm and encouraging - no longer indifferent or monotone, but warm, emotional, and caring.
Tanjiro began to cry even harder. He wasn't even aware that his grip on her waist was tightening - perhaps even pinching her slightly. But the harder he held her, the closer she pressed her head to his, burying her face in his hair. She didn't want him to think, even for a moment, that he was alone again.
The Demon Slayer wept with that same intensity for more than a minute. Kanao's body absorbed most of his shaking and sobs. The sound didn't carry farther than a few meters. The trees and shrubs rustled gently in the night wind, as if guarding their privacy so no one could interrupt them.
Eventually, he began to calm down a little. His crying turned into ragged breaths until, at last, he was breathing steadily again. His tear-streaked face started to dry, his sniffles grew quieter, and his eyes opened. After a moment, he moved his lips slightly away from Kanao's body, still not letting go - wanting to remain close to her warmth.
"It's just... sometimes it's all too much. Nezuko, the battles, the training, the memories of Mr. Rengoku... I'm scared I won't be able to cure Nezuko in time. I'm scared I'll lose more comrades, that I won't be strong enough to protect them. I'm scared I won't progress fast enough to become a Hashira - that I won't be able to take Mr. Rengoku's place. Sometimes I just feel... so tired," he confessed, his voice breaking, each word barely escaping his throat - but Kanao heard and understood every one of them. She listened closely, afraid to miss even a syllable. The cracks in his unbreakable facade were beginning to show, yet she admired him no less for it. On the contrary, his pain made him seem more real, more human. And now she was sure that he respected her deeply - enough to let her see him like this.
"I don't know what to say... but you're not alone, Tanjiro. You don't have to lie to people when you're in pain. Maybe I can't do much, but others will help too. You're not alone, see? You can cry if you need to. I promise I'll always listen."
"You've done more than I ever expected from anyone, Kanao. I didn't realize how much I needed this. Thank you - thank you so much. You're special. Thank you for being here."
Kanao remembered that moment when Shinobu had hugged her at the cemetery. That was exactly what she had wanted to tell her back then, but the voice in her heart had been too quiet - Thank you for being here. She had thought that about everyone who had shown her love and care, who had taken her in, who had spent every day with her when she believed she was alone. Now she was hearing those words from someone she had always thought lived in a world apart from hers. She had always felt like she stood in the background - an extra in his story. And yet now he was thanking her for simply being there. She didn't mind. She didn't mind being a part of his life.
"If you ever need it... I can hug you as often as you want," she said shyly, her voice quiet and hesitant. For now, she couldn't offer much more - but if that was what he needed, it was simple enough for her to do as often as he wished.
To Tanjiro, though, it wasn't "nothing." It was one small thing - and yet it meant everything. He pulled back slightly and looked into her eyes. Her face was calm but tinged with a faint blush; her eyes were full, brimming with emotion. He smiled sincerely - the way he always did, but this time with deeper warmth. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, so brightly it almost dazzled her. Then he wrapped his arms around her properly - one hand resting on her shoulder blade, the other gently on her neck, his thumb softly caressing the back of it.
"Thank you, Kanao. You're a wonderful friend. And I can hug you too if something's ever wrong. We can both be there for each other. I know I can count on you. I just didn't want to worry you before... but I promise I won't hide it anymore. If I ever feel bad, I'll ask for help. Just knowing you're here already helps me more than you think. Thank you."
Tanjiro had never truly felt alone - quite the opposite. He knew he had his sister, many wonderful friends, and loyal comrades. That was why he pushed himself so hard - he wanted to be strong enough to stand beside them, not to burden them. But when the girl who once told him farewells over and over again, asking to leave her alone was now asking him to open up to her, he couldn't refuse. He hadn't even realized how much he needed her. His mother had hugged him, his father, so had Nezuko, his other siblings, Urokodaki, and grandma. And now, for the first time in a long while, he felt that same love, that same safety. He thanked her with all his heart.
Kanao felt her heart beat louder, harder, resonating deep inside her chest. His firm, steady embrace was comforting - perhaps even more so than the one she had given him. Yet she felt she had learned something - about his feelings, about her own, even about how to hold someone properly. She returned his hug, wrapping her arms around his back. She tilted her head to the side so her cheek rested softly against his, letting its warmth press into her skin. She felt just as she had when Shinobu hugged her - safe, loved, understood. Only this time, she had been the one to take the first step, to reach out to him. And he had appreciated it, had wanted to be closer. Together, they could be stronger. Maybe not unbreakable - but strong. Not alone - and together, the fight would always be easier.