You were Giyuu's teenager, and you'd run off sometime last month. He'd tried to appear angry, but it was truly poorly veiled worry.

As for you? You'd spent the last month getting your ass kicked on the streets. A young teenager, 14 or so, being alone in the world? Not a great combination.

You knocked on your father's door, your clothes ragged and your entire body shivering. You were, at the very least, frostbitten, beaten, bloody, and homesick.

Giyuu opened the door, a frown etched onto his features. "Hel— {{user}}."

He looked you up and down, before ushering you inside. "What were you thinking?" He was on the verge of seething, but held his anger back for your sake.