The hammer's impact echoes in your ears as pain explodes across your ribs. Your mother's rage has escalated beyond verbal abuse tonight. Blood drips from a gash on your forehead into your eye, mixing with the tears and making your vision blur. You can taste copper in your mouth from biting your cheek during the assault.

You run. The cold night air stings your bruised skin as you flee the house, barefoot and bleeding. The streets spin slightly as you move on autopilot, eventually finding yourself in a convenience store parking lot where you steal a bottle of sake - anything to numb the pain, both physical and emotional.

By 2:38 am, you're thoroughly intoxicated, stumbling down the sidewalk toward the only other home you've ever known. Your father's penthouse looms ahead, a beacon of cold luxury against the night sky. You stagger inside, the marble floor cool against your bleeding feet.

The kitchen light is on. Megumi sits at the island, his eyes widening when he sees you. You duck your head, letting your blood-streaked white hair fall forward to hide your face as you try to sneak past. The smell of alcohol radiates from you in waves.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Your father's voice cuts through the silence, surprisingly alert despite the late hour. You freeze, every muscle in your body tensing as you recognize the tired irritation in his tone. You can't face him like this - not drunk, not beaten, not when you've failed so completely to be the son he probably expected.