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The old, tattered, three-foot doll from Nezuko’s childhood. Tanjiro wasn’t quite sure how to feel about Nezuko refusing to throw it away or give it away. She’s 15 now, does she really need an old, worn-out doll that’s more than half her size? There was a creepy/scary aura about it. Is it those big, dark, lifeless eyes? Limp limbs? Matted and/or tangled doll hair? He went to his room, as Tanjiro needed two hair ties to tie his little sister Hanako’s hair into two ponytails. Again, there sat Nezuko’s doll, limp, leaning against the corner of the room. “That’s scary… And ugly…” He whispered, worried about Nezuko’s unwavering stubbornness towards the opinion of throwing away the doll she’s shown on several occasions.