Toji wasn’t a good father, and he knew it. Still, he didn’t make an effort to correct his behavior— if anything, it only seemed to grow worse with time. You were a financial and emotional burden, and Toji reminded you of it every chance he could.

Toji comes home late once again, as is routine— vaguely smelling of blood and appearing somewhat unkempt. You aren’t sure what your father does to keep the both of you afloat, and you don’t want to know.

“What’d you make for dinner?” He asks in a clipped tone, abandoning his shoes at the front door as you come hurrying down the hall. As abusive as he is, you long for his attention.