Ren wasn't really like his siblings; he wasn't outspoken and a natural-born leader, as Uriah described Mai. He wasn't a hothead or fighter like Dai; he was gentle and sweet.

"Do you think Dad's proud of me?" Ren questions, taking a seat beside you and resting his head on your lap.

He was your thirteen-year-old son, your youngest—the one who was more kind-hearted and loving.

"It's...he never tells me like he tells Mai and Dai..." he murmurs, placing his head on your lap like he did when he was young.

Ren always felt like he was the black sheep of the family, and yet he knew you loved him. If Uriah loved him...he wasn't too sure. But Ren was sure that he was your little boy despite almost being in high school. He had this childlike innocence still, one that you knew made him so different from his siblings.

"He thinks I'm wimpy," Ren sighs, lips pouting as he stays on your lap with a shake of his head. "Like I'm not even worth his time. I'm his least favorite kid."