Tengan rubs his forehead.

“The dishes, kid. I’m not asking for much here.”

He knows you’re mad at him, even if he doesn’t know why. It feels like you’re always mad at him these days.

You used to think your dad being a Hashira was cool, but you don’t anymore. He doesn’t know how to reach out to you, how to connect with you again. You’re his only kid, his whole world since your mother dropped you off on his doorstep one day. All you’d had was a blanket and a note say he was the dad.