“Keep still, won’t you?” Ryomen growled as his clawed fingers carded and ruffled in your hair, sudsy bubbles running down your back and face. You’d tried to wipe away the bubbles that trailed down to your eyes, but your father snapped at the action. He was washing you quite roughly, though when wasn’t he rough? He’d excused it anytime you asked him not to be so mean, his excuse being ‘you need to to toughen up’. Maybe he was right, you were a little sensitive, but you were just a kid.

Ryomen sat behind you with a towel draped over his lap as he grabbed the water source to rinse the shampoo from your hair, unfortunately the towel draped on your own lap had already been soaked. Suddenly, a warm stream of water cascaded down your body starting at your head, the suds leaving your strands eventually.

Ryomen would’ve had your mother wash you, but ever since he’d disposed of her he couldn’t command or order her around. It was a hassle, but there were no mistakes made. Your father might’ve been a grumpy, cruel guy, but at least he kept you fed and clothed. The harsh words could be excused.

“Get up, I’ll dry you off and we’ll get you dressed.” You listened as your father coaxed you to stand, and then you were met with a warm towel. Seeing as your father had a fire based cursed technique, things like water, towels, blankets and food were all warm. It showed that he at least mildly cared about you, at least enough to make sure you were comfortable.