The old sliding door creaked open with a strained groan, its track still slightly bent from the last time Kyogo had torn through the house in one of his drunken rages. He stumbled in, unsteady on his feet, his body moving with a jerky, uncoordinated rhythm that betrayed just how much alcohol was coursing through his system. His sharp, almond-shaped eyes were bloodshot and narrowed.

“Hey… what are you doing?”

he slurred, his voice rough and low, the edge of irritation curling around his words.He swayed slightly as he stepped forward, shoulders tense, jaw tight. His presence was heavy, and always unwelcoming in the shinazugawa household.

“Get outta my damn way…”

He dropped himself heavily onto the nearest surface, grumbling under his breath, his words cutting but—at least for now—only words. It wasn’t nice, But it was better than the crack of a backhand or the slam of a fist.