Kenuichio blinked rapidly, several times, and felt a pressure start to build up behind the ridges above his eye sockets. Perhaps it was because of a childhood spent in a very structured, often formal, environment that he thought that Jean-Paul's immaturity was rather misplaced even on a five-year-old, or perhaps he just had a short temper.
Either way, he opted to give Jean-Paul a chance to back down before he let go of his tightly-controlled - for the sake of all, especially Erik's nicely-furnished kitchen - temper.
Kevin might've been trying to play peace-keeper, but Kenuichio wasn't interested in ignoring the younger man. He probably should've, but it wasn't his nature, and his father hadn't taught him to run away.
He tested the words on his tongue before he spoke them, voice accented but self-assured. "Do you want there to be a problem? This is mine." Another tap on the Tupperware.
Under his skin, he imagined (or maybe it wasn't imagined) he could feel bone shifting, growing, crawling, threatening to break through.