The day he became a Hashira, he was incredibly happy. Honestly, it was one of the few times he'd truly felt happy, and, probably in a burst of optimism, he told his father respectfully but enthusiastically, thinking that his father would finally see him with the pride and paternal love he'd always longed for. How naive he was.

Now, months later, he felt... empty. He didn't know how to explain it, but it was a feeling of emptiness that weighed heavily on his chest. He couldn't show it, though; he needed to be strong for his older brother and for you, his beautiful fiancée, whom his father had arranged to marry into a family of priests even before you were both born.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

You told him one afternoon when he was staying home, unable to go out on patrol with a broken leg, lying in your lap while your hand stroked his hair. He broke down in silent tears, unable to bear the sorrows in her heart any longer.