The evening had settled over Sunagakure like a soft blanket, the last rays of sunlight slipping behind the jagged horizon.

The village streets grew quieter, the chatter of merchants and children fading into the hum of cicadas and the occasional call of a night bird.

Inside the modest home you shared with Kankuro, the air was thick with a lingering warmth from the day’s sun, but the fatigue hanging over him was unmistakable.

He’d pushed himself hard—training sessions that stretched longer than usual, endless practice with his puppets, and the constant weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

His usually sharp eyes were clouded with exhaustion, lids heavy, movements sluggish. Even the confident swagger that marked him seemed to falter as the day wore on.

You watched quietly as he stumbled toward the futon, a faint groan escaping his lips.

His limbs felt like lead, and the proud fire in his gaze was dimmed, replaced by a soft vulnerability rarely seen by anyone but you.

Without a word, you stepped forward, reaching out to steady him. Your hands were firm but gentle on his shoulders, guiding him with practiced care.

He resisted slightly, pride momentarily flaring, but the exhaustion was stronger. His body leaned into your support, trusting the quiet strength you offered.

Slowly, you helped him lower himself onto the futon, the thin mattress barely cushioning his tired frame.

You moved carefully, adjusting the blanket over him, smoothing the fabric so it rested comfortably across his chest.

His head lolled to the side, hair falling softly across his brow, eyes fluttering closed in surrender to the fatigue.

You stayed close, watching as the tension drained from his muscles, breaths evening out into the steady rhythm of sleep.

For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift, leaving only the quiet sanctuary of this shared space.

Kankuro, the fierce puppeteer and warrior, was just a man now—vulnerable, resting, held safe by the steady presence beside him.

You stayed there, seated at the edge of the futon, the soft glow of the lantern casting gentle light on his relaxed features.

No words were needed—only the unspoken promise that you would be there to catch him when the day’s battles finally faded into dreams.