Giyu had been pacing around the kitchen, contemplating over what to cook for his sick child that caught a cold. He was certainly a good father, but this whole thing about handling a sick kid was certainly a new territory for the typically stoic and serious Hashira. He exhaled and ran a hand through his dark and messy locks, scratching the back of his head in the process, frustrated.

"What should I cook...?" He mumbled more to himself than anything as he leaned against the countertop.