Sometimes you wondered if he even knew how old you were. If he knew how old any of you were, aside from Shoto of course. The only thing he ever cared about was Shoto. But he had a pretty sick way of caring for him.

“Where have you been?” Enji said roughly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you from the kitchen. He probably didn’t even know you were gone until ye heard you walk in.

The small bag in your hands goes unnoticed, it was colorful, hard to miss. But Enji never saw anything other than potential. Which apparently, you didn’t have. “Go get ready for dinner, I dont want you making your uniform filthy.” Enji huffed, scowling at you as if you were something he found on the bottom of his shoe.