A/N: I would imagine after the murder Muraki committed had the town on high alert. How could no one find out about it? Especially the Kurosaki family who protect their heirs from getting hurt. They are needed to keep in the curse of the snake god after all.

Warning: Hisoka's new form of self harm is digging his fingers into his hand to draw blood.

-Lucicelo

Chapter 3

The hold of the Kurosaki family tightened around Hisoka in the following years. Almost as if they gripped his neck. Choking off the air going inside of his lungs. It drove Hisoka crazy. Yet, he grew used to this new development. He had no choice in the matter. Complaints on his part went ignored or unheard. When he was a child, he dared to ask questions. He received generic answers or they kept tight lipped about their answer. His mother gave him a terrified expression before she ignored him. Her hands kept busy with seaming a yukata for his father but her face presented her mind as a blank canvas. Images of a similar woman entered Hisoka's mind. Maybe his mother saw herself outside of her body sometimes when she couldn't handle reality. This happened on a regular occurrence during the time of the Snake God festival.

A festival he never understood. Half the time, he remained at home while someone in the name of the Kurosaki family went to attend the festivities. The last time he attended, he was a child and noticed the relieved expressions on the villagers faces. Every single one had this poignant sentiment when they saw him. Most iof it manifested in the older generation who treated him well but they didn't cross any boundaries like the other children in the town. He noticed their fond smiles and ruffling a child's hair. He pushed the ideas aside, they had respect for his family and wouldn't want to offend them.

The whole incident where his ancestor killed the Snake God occurred centuries ago, they didn't need to celebrate such an occasion. With each passing year, the house grew darker in atmosphere. More people kept their eyes on him. His free time in between his lessons got supervised. The favorite tutors he had didn't treat him the same anymore. His kendo teacher dismissed himself right after but Hisoka saw the apologetic eyes he sported when they connected eyes.

His father put a stop to any fun he had with his tutors. That man ruined anything that brought him joy.

Hisoka took notice on this radical change as he grew older in his restrictive family. This started after the scare of the murdered woman in the other side of town. Her family came in to recognize the body and held the funeral in the city. This didn't console the fears of the villagers who continued on thinking the murderer remained in town. Hisoka knew the man had left. He didn't catch his malevolent presence anywhere. Having tried extending his abilities, he didn't get far. The cherry blossom field turned into a sore spot for him. He rejected any invites to that area of town.

The Kurosaki family took extra precaution on everywhere he went. He couldn't sleep at night, developing a bout of insomnia. Someone always watched him through the sliding doors from the side of the manor. He once thought Akane or Miya invaded his privacy but they presented no guilt. Entering their minds for brief moments, he saw them going to bed at night. Their innocence became evident through these slight intrusive trips.

When he was awake, he attempted in reeling in his ability. A continual headache formed which impeded his focus for the simplest tasks. At times, the migraines made him lay in bed. The pain grew too much and he wanted to stop holding himself back. To cope, he dug his fingers into his palm. Enough to draw blood which trickled onto his clothes. The sleeves of his yukata had old stains of this new habit. The staff in the laundry just replaced his clothing when they grew too prominent. He wondered how no one questioned this new habit. It happened every single day, he ruined more clothes in a week than years prior.

His bandaged hands brought on his father's attention. His judging eyes lingered on his hands. At one point, Hisoka thought his father was distressed. Slight fear flickered in his aging eyes. Hisoka pushed it aside as a trick of the light. Whenever he stayed near his father, his headaches worsened. He gritted his teeth and his fingers dug into his hands again. Ruining his bandages and the sleeves of his yukata.

He tried avoiding his father. Living in the same property made this impossible. His father called on him for his assessment of his son every two weeks. Hisoka was not surprised his father had not commented on his waste of bandages. Ignoring them, he probably favored his self harm over his other oddities. The man picked on other aspects of his life which he couldn't control on his own. His empath ability remained in the back of their minds but it surfaced through his back handed comments. Hisoka tried impressing his father but now he didn't care.

This man who claimed him as his child wasn't a father.

He was just Nagare Kurosaki.

A real father tried to instill lessons and love in his child. To protect his child and give advice whenever the child asked him in their time of need. Nagare ignored his pleas of help and knocked down his self esteem with each interaction. He wondered if his father did the same to his mother. She couldn't stand being in the same room as him. Her actions from each family dinner proved she was uncomfortable near his father. He assumed his conception came through obligation of the family. Something that didn't surprise him much.

It might turn out wrong. He never entered his mother's mind to find out her true feelings on the issue. He based everything on her body language and her facial expressions. In a way, he felt pity for her. His love for his mother dwindled down to almost nothing. But, he still held some hope she turned her attention toward him. Basking him with motherly affection while consoling him when things in the family soured. Which happened quite often.

A knock came to the door of his pseudo classroom, Miya inquired. "Young master Hisoka?"

Hisoka placed his pencil on his notebook and got up from his seat. Heading to the door, he opened it a fraction of an inch. "Yes?" He saw her carrying a bundle of books in her arms, she might had gotten the job to fix the storage room again.

"Have you finished your lessons? Master Nagare wants to see you." Miya held the books tighter in her arms as she tried not to let them fall to the ground.

Hisoka arched a brow. "My history lesson finishes in ten minutes, can he wait?"

"I'm not sure." Miya bit her bottom lip and fiddled with the sleeves of her kimono. "I will inform Master Nagare you will join him in ten minutes."

"Thank you." Hisoka closed the sliding door and turned to his tutor. "My father requires me in his presence. Do we have anything else to cover?"

The young tutor checked her notes and droned on in a monotone. "We covered everything we needed for the day. Unless you want a fast refresher before you have to leave Young Master Hisoka."

Hisoka sat back down on his seat. "I will take those extra minutes. Someone is already informing him I am finishing this lesson ." Hisoka picked up his pencil and listened to the young woman drone out the whole lesson for the day.

Hisoka knelt on his pillow with his hands on his lap. Sitting still, he breathed through his nose and tried not to make himself known. He stared at the floor, avoiding his father's face as the man read his current reports from his tutors. All his tutors assured him that his grades didn't drop and they had nothing but great things to say about him. He gave no trouble and wrote their lectures in his notebooks with no complaint. Although, one might give him low scores for some reason or another.

Closing his eyes, he held back a yelp when the atmosphere in the room dropped. The man must had found something to discuss with him. Discussion was the wrong word to use for these evaluations. They turned into verbal beat downs of his lack of perfection. Something Hisoka did for his own benefit not for his father's reputation. He started relying on his own high opinion. This man did nothing for him.

Hisoka took in a deep breath.

Time to face the music.

"This," Hisoka's toes curled as he waited for impact. "This is horrendous."

Hisoka's eyebrows furrowed. Now, he knew he didn't do that bad. In these moments, he wanted his grandmother alive for more meetings. She managed to make it to one before her death. She gave him a chance to explain himself. Telling him sound advice and aptly shut up his father when he interrupted her. He almost smirked when he saw his father closing his mouth at her glare. She wasn't the matriarch of the family in image alone.

His eyes widened when he remembered the images that popped in his head when she held him. He didn't recall her sweet fragrance but those memories stuck. Those snake like eyes haunted his dreams. The scales on his grandfather's body made him sick. Sections of peeled skin and deep scratches on different sections. The fear his grandmother felt when she saw inside of the main room. He tried forgetting it. Yet, the girl's murderer came into his mind instead.

It turned into a vicious cycle. His mind became a vortex of dark emotions that he felt the need to hurt himself again and again.

His extra curricular activities and tutors distracted him. Never left alone. He almost forgot about those memories until he had time on his own. Although, he wished to stay on his own often, these small bouts of visions soured it for him.

"You could do much better than this." Nagare frowned as he dropped the paper on the floor. "At your age, you should have perfect scores and reviews from your tutors. You are slacking. More restrictions are in order. You don't need to have archery lessons until these grades are perfect. I am not going to have anyone in this family reproach me over your low grades. You humiliate me enough with your oddities."

Hisoka bit the inside of his cheek. Hard enough that he thought he felt the skin break. His tongue didn't get the taste of blood so he was safe. Turning his eyes to the floor, he blocked anything else his father might tell him. All he wanted to do was sink through the floor. His hands formed fists, nails dug into his flesh. His breath hitched when he felt the pain of the nails breaking the skin. Blood pooled in the palms of his hands but he refrained from wiping them on the bottom of his yukata.

Blood droplets fell onto the floor. Hisoka heard the impact due to the deafening silence in the room. He didn't move. His father should finish his rant and excuse him before he littered the floor with his blood. It brought him some satisfaction in ruining something of his father's. Despite the fact it got wiped with a cloth with no problems.

Nagare snatched up Hisoka's hand the moment he saw the blood.

Hisoka glared at him. Mustering all of his hatred into his eyes, he dared him to comment on his behavior. His jaw clenched through his anger. He didn't waver as he remained rigid. Sitting upright, his nails dug deeper. Even more blood trickled down his arm.

His father knew the exact reason he injured himself on a daily basis. The numerous headaches from suppressing his gift made it impossible for him to concentrate. This man turned oblivious to his issues just to keep an image for the family. Making sure to obscure anything off before anyone in the staff figured it out. The gossip in the manor spread like wildfire. The rumor of his parents separate bedrooms turned into a hot ticket of gossip.

He assumed Miya or Akane handled his clothing. They always checked his sleeves after he dressed for the morning. He didn't comment on their inspections. His subtle inquiries on new bandages had them stock his wardrobe in a frequent basis. Something he was thankful for whenever he saw them.

They spent the next minute in a stare down.

The sounds of the birds chirping outside of the room. Shuffling of the staff going through the halls doing their jobs. A slight slithering noise which almost made Hisoka inspect the source of he noise. It got closer and closer toward their area.

From Hisoka's peripheral vision, he thought he saw a section of the wall moving.

Hisoka couldn't take the lack of reproach from his father. It surprised him that he was impatient. Normal parents yelled or demanded anything off with their children. His father demanded normalcy from him. Something he couldn't turn off. He already desired these powers away when he grew old enough to understand he was different. It didn't happen. He learned to accept this aspect of himself.

He shouldn't expect much from his parents. They turned a blind eye to focus their own interests. Unless, his father sent him to the basement for whatever reason.

In pure aggravation, he spat out. "Say something."

Nagare released Hisoka's hand. Snatching his hand back like he scalded his skin. Taking out a handkerchief from the pocket of his yukata he placed it on the floor. It covered the blood spots but it didn't seep through the fabric. He didn't acknowledge what transpired in the last few minutes. His face showed his distaste. Placing the report on his lap he waved his hand toward the door.

"Your report is over. Leave." Nagare said through gritted teeth.

Hisoka flinched back at the oncoming wave of anger. He didn't need to get told twice. Getting up on his feet, he went out of the door as he kept his palm up. He shut the door once he stepped outside. Taking notice that his wounds stopped bleeding as he fought the urge to run.

Nagare let out a deep sigh. Carefully wiping down the floor, there was no more mess. He cleaned his dirtied hand and hid it inside of his pocket.

He froze when the door behind him clicked open.

"Something smells delightful..."

Nagare gulped as he kept his eyes on the papers on his lap. Ignoring the snake's presence behind his body.

The slithering grew louder, its tongue flickering near his ear.

Hisoka lit up a few sticks of incense and placed them in front of the portraits of the deceased. The small room had an extensive collection of members of the Kurosaki family. Stretching a far enough that the portraits were paintings not photographs. Placing his hands together in front of his body, he gave a quick prayer. A small sermon in his mind while he breathed in deep. His concentration kept going strong. The peace he desired was in an area full of portraits. Yet, he once named his own room a safe haven. No one came in that space unless it was the annual time to pray for the dead.

His father went toward another designated spot on the grounds. Hisoka stayed far away from the sections his father frequented on a daily basis. Having remembered them, he made sure to remember the times of day as well. He didn't want to bump into him unless he got called into his room for those reports. Also, his mother had some areas she walked around when she wanted some sun. This rarely happened.

Hisoka wrinkled his nose when his palms touched each other. He forgot to bandage them before he came to offer his prayers. Having run out of his father's room, he didn't want to remain in the main section. A dark aura permeated through the manor which made him suffocate. It made his empathy skyrocket and meditation helped him to an extent.

Breathing through his nose, he focused on memories which brought him some happiness. After the desolation of love through these halls, the images started to fade. Something he had grown to accept. The rigorous studying occupied any space. He couldn't afford any slip ups.

Any staff that saw him assumed he went to pay his respects. This made them stay away from him to leave him to his thoughts. Most saw him through passing. None of them have spoken a word to him in the first place. All he wanted was isolation from everyone. After going through his reports, he didn't want anyone to talk to him.

"Young master?"

Hiroki snapped out of his thoughts and turned around. His hands curled into fists, ready to hit the person who entered the space. Ignoring the harsh sting, he readied his hand. He stopped himself in time when he saw Akane standing at the entrance. Her eyes with clear understanding. Hisoka didn't need to read into her emotions. He slouched his shoulders. Letting his guard down while he stared right into her eyes. She didn't shrink away from his gaze.

She understood his quirks after so many years. Having looked after him as a child, she was almost a mother figure. The figure he wanted his own mother to present to him. Even Miya transformed into an older sister despite her short time of service. He didn't imagine them giving him any embraces. His father had eyes throughout the manor. He didn't want the few people he valued to get dismissed over a simple hug.

Akane had a small basket in her arms. She moved the clean clothes around, presenting some bandages and salve. Hisoka's lips quirked up in a slight thankful smile. They didn't need to say anything to each other. Akane smiled back as she held the basket in front of her body. Hisoka took them from the basket, careful not to aggravate his wounds.

"Would you need anything else?" Akane inquired as she didn't comment on the crescent shaped wounds on Hisoka's palms.

"I'm fine, thank you." Hisoka answered as he pushed back his bangs. "Is it already time for dinner?" Akane nodded her head. "I will be there after this is finished..." Hisoka took off the lid from the salve and slathered them on his palms.

"Young master?"

"Yes, Akane?"

Akane stared at his hands and sighed. "Do you require any help?"

Hisoka shook his head. "No, thank you." He focused on getting the salve in an even layer. "You know why you can't help me..."

"I know, young master." Akane bowed as she stepped out of the room. "Miya will bring your food to your room shortly."

Hisoka gazed up and called to Akane. "Thanks for the offer,"

Akane nodded her head. "Anytime, young master." She hurried away into the hallway which lead toward the laundry room.

Hisoka frowned as he held the end of the bandage with this thumb while he wrapped his hand. He wondered if Akane and Miya carried these bandages around with them. His self injuries happened on a constant basis as he grew older. Their discretion prevented any rumors. The rest of the staff might had assumed he injured himself through his progression in martial arts.

He looked down when he tried to keep the bandages from loosening. His eyes narrowed. He was never good at doing this on his own. The family doctor always made this seem so simple.

TBC