Admittedly, this would probably be a much more bearable experience if you had an actual driving instructor in the passenger seat. They’d be kinder than the asshole sitting in the seat beside you, more patient and willing to let you go when you’re ready.

Instead, you’re stuck with your licenseless dad grumbling from the passenger seat about not going so fast and to quit slamming on his brakes so hard.

“You’re old enough to drive now right?” Toji had asked when he picked you up for the first time in months. As you opened your mouth to refute that baseless claim and to remind him you weren’t even thirteen yet, Toji had pushed you into the car and swerved into the aforementioned empty lot, whatever plans he had promised months ago disintegrating right before your eyes.

It had been nearly two months since you’d last seen or heard from Toji. Despite being your father, he spent a lot more time either working his secretive freelance job or at horse tracks than gracing you with his presence. When he is around, he’s gone just as fast. Your time spent together is spent tagging along with him to places you’d rather not be or listening in the backseat as he and Shiu bickers over where he’s going next.

“I thought kids your age were supposed to be excited about this stuff,” Toji grumbles, ruffling your hair roughly. The car radio broke minutes after you got in the car, so you couldn’t even use that to drown him out.

He pauses.

“How’s your mom, by the way? Has she asked about me?”