The feeling of someone watching him made him jerk awake. He woke up completely and sat straight up in his bed. He had woken up to the feeling of being watched a few times, and it rarely went well. The last time he woke up like that was when he was in the hospital with Wrath watching over him.

He was at home, he had no reason to feel like someone was watching him sleep. He turned to his right, to see if Nigou was awake, he was always a good indicator if he should be worried or not, only to see a cold and empty spot on his bed. His heart sank for the umpteenth time that night.

Right, he's gone.

The sound of someone shifting on their feet made him snap his head to the right, where his father was eerily standing over him. The light was leaking in from the hallway, his bedroom door wide open as his father was standing right next to his bed. With the way his face was hidden in the shadows, he could barely see his father's eyes, but he could tell that he was disgusted and angered about something. He didn't like how there was a crazed look in his eye.

He really didn't like that look.

His heart leapt into his throat at the sight of his father. He had never been scared of his father, not like he was at that moment. But at the same time, his much taller and much heavier father has never stared at him like that.

"Dad?" Scooting back, he tried to get away from his father as he spoke," What's wrong?" He flinched backward when his father extended his hand towards his head, and that instantly set him off. He watched in horror as his father was suddenly enraged.

His large and heavy hand landed onto the crown of his head, his fingers bundling up his hair into a fist just like Haizaki did mere weeks prior," Didn't I tell you," His voice was low as he growled out his words. His hand wrenched his head back and forth, and the only thing Kuroko could do was wince at the way his neck ached," I don't want to see that disgusting color!" Kuroko was desperately trying to make his father let go, his small hands doing nothing to budge the hand that was dragging him across the room.

"Wait no! Dad-!"

"Shut up!" His father dragged him into the hallway, using nothing but the grip on his son's hair to do so. Kuroko struggled against the pull, kicking his legs out as he tried to catch something he could grab onto. As expected, there was nothing for him to grab onto as he was dragged down the hallway," I told you to dye your hair! Its not my fault you were being a disobedient child!" His father was purposely knocking his head against almost every surface he could and it hurt.

Kuroko knew what pain was, a few weeks of fighting in illegal matches would teach you that. And he had been fighting for years. Kuroko knew how to handle pain, and how to ignore it.But oddly enough, that pain was different.

It hurt him in his soul. Even through his confusion, he could feel his heart aching each and every time he was knocked against something. There was a voice in the back of his head, screaming in anguish and confusion at the violence his father was showing him.

"No!" Kuroko stopped trying to get the hand off of his head, and instead, latched onto the door frame, holding onto the wood with all of his might as he realized that he was holding onto the bathroom door frame.

He was scared.

He had gotten in a lot of questionable situations where he was nervous, or spooked. Few were the times where he was scared, and the last time he was scared was when he was barely starting his fighting career and had to figure out a way to win.

Now he was terrified.

Something he thought would never happen when he was with his own father.

A foot came down on his fingers, letting out a cry of pain, he let go. He already knew that his fingers had been jammed and cut open against the doorframe. He was heartlessly dragged over to the shower and was forced to lean against it.

His father finally let go of his hair but was quick to pin Kuroko against the edge of the bathtub. He used all of his weight to pin down his son, using all 200 pounds of him to force Kuroko to lean his head over the edge of the bathtub. The arm that was pinning his son's neck nearly cut off his air supply.

Gasping and wheezing, he clawed at the forearm that was holding him down. He could feel skin bundling up under his nails, but he could see that his father wasn't reacting to the pain.

Now that he was closer to his father's face, he couldn't take his eyes off of his father's eyes. They were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated and were so wide, he could barely see the honey color of his father's iris. There was an odd white power on his nose and chin and he could smell a rotten and acrid smell on the older man's breath.

"You didn't dye your hair like I asked," He almost gagged at the smell of his father's rancid breath blowing into his face. He heard the sound of something being fumbled, it sounded like a plastic bottle," So I'm going to do it for you!" He heard a plastic cap hit the tile floor and started to struggle more when he realized that his father had opened a bleach bottle.

He would have yelled out if he had the air to do so.

There was no way his father was going to try and bleach his hair with that right?

Even he knew that there was a difference between the bleach for cleaning and the chemicals they used to bleach hair. A person as smart as his father should have known the difference.

He flicked his eyes to his father and made eye contact. Horror set in him when he saw the determination in the older man's eyes.

He was serious.

Shaking his head frantically, he tried to lean away from the bleach bottle as it started to tip more and more towards him. But he could barely move, his father had over 70 pounds on him, and was at least six inches taller than him. Kuroko was strong, strong enough to knock out men who were much bigger than him.

But not strong enough to move his father.

Clenching his eyes closed, he cringed when he felt the bleach fall onto his forehead and drip into his hair. The smell was horrible, and although it didn't burn immediately, it didn't take long before his scalp was on fire. His entire scalp was tinging, it felt like he had just dipped his head into a bowl of fire ants and they were attacking his skin. He thrashed around in his father's grip, wheezily begging to be let go. He could feel the chemical burns forming on his scalp.

The pressure finally left his neck and he took in a deep, reviving breathe before he promptly turned onto his stomach and turned on the water. Washing off the bleach that his father poured into his hair. He could hear the bass of voices behind him, one was noticeably deeper than the other one, but with the way the water was running over his ears, he couldn't hear them.

The cool water soothed the burning of his scalp and washed off the bleach. His hair was slimy from the bleach and he had to run his hands through his hair to wash it all out.

Even after he washed it out, he stayed under the water for a few minutes until a hand on his shoulder made him flinch. He twisted the hand away from him, but he let go when he heard the distinctly feminine gasp of pain.

His mother was crouching next to him, wrapping a towel around his shoulders to catch the drops of water that fell from his hair.

"He just left the house, are you okay?" His mother tenderly ran her hands through his soaking hair, her hands trembling as she assessed him," Did he hurt you?"

His father was nowhere to be seen and he allowed himself to have a moment of weakness as he latched onto his mother. Breathing heavily, he tried to center himself and process what just happened as he held onto his mother.

He was stunned.

What the hell just happened?

One minute, he was sleeping, and the next minute, his father was dragging him into the bathroom where he would pour bleach over his hair.

As he calmed down, the more he realized just how much his mother was trembling in his hold, and just how fucked everything was. Pushing his mother away, he felt his anger spike when he saw her face.

"Mom," He almost growled out his words, his anger quickly increasing the more he looked at her," What did he do to you?" His mother shook her head slowly, letting her son get a good view of the bruise that was blooming on her pale cheekbone. It was a deep and dark purple, and he knew from experience that it was difficult to get a bruise like that from some sort of accident.

"Its okay Tetsu," She had the saddest smile he had ever seen. There was a distinct look of pain and sorrow in her eyes. It didn't look right on her. He clenched his jaw tightly as she ran her hand through his hair, her other hand cradling his cheek," I'm used to it."

She shouldn't be used to it.

A woman as kind and loving as her should not be used to being hit by her own husband.

Pushing down the panic, confusion, and fury that were running amok in his head, he forced himself to emotionally detach himself so he could calmly ask," How long has this been going on?" He got a distinct sense of déjà vu, a quiet memory of Hyuuga asking him the same thing a few months ago.

And just like he did all those months ago, his mother didn't answer him. She averted her eyes and let out a soul-weary sigh. She didn't answer him and just as he was about to snap like Kagami did, she climbed onto her feet. When Kuroko didn't follow her, she offered a hand and pulled him up.

He felt his anger spike again as he stood next to his mother.

His mother was a small woman, she was more than a few inches smaller than he was, and if his father had six inches on him, then he had at least a foot on his mother.

He clenched his jaw.

His father was a foot taller and was at least 80 pounds heavier than his mother.

He did not have to hit his mother to subdue her, as terrible as it sounded, a mere push would be enough to get her out of the way and to scare the living shit out of her.

But yet, he didn't say anything as she led him out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, holding onto his hand the entire time. He bit his tongue as she pulled him down for a kiss on his cheek and urged him to stay quiet about the night's events before taking her leave.

Flicking on his light, he almost ran over to the mirror and parted his hair to see the damage.

His scalp was blotchy, his hairline had gotten the brunt of the bleach, leaving his hairline an angry and aggressive red. His scalp was sensitive to the touch, and he swore even his hair rubbing against his skin hurt.

Carefully running his hands through his hair, he was extremely relieved to see that other than a handful of strands, which likely came from his father dragging him around the house by his hair, none of his hair had been falling out due to the chemical exposure.

He only allowed himself to sigh in relief for a second before quickly changing his mindset.

None of this would have happened if it wasn't for his father.

Logically, he knew what he had to do, he knew that he either had to confront his father about his aggressive and unreasonable behavior. Or he and his mother would be forced to endure his violent acts for god knows how long.

But emotionally, he was struggling to keep himself together. He was almost overwhelmed with all of the emotions that were overloading him, but it was only through him detaching himself from his emotions that he was able to stay calm. Still.

He had no idea what to do.