Difference between revisions of "Daisuke Itami/History"

A man is dying on a hospital bed. Though he can't be more than sixty, it looks like the years of his life are rapidly bleeding from him. You know, like when a vampire is exposed to sunlight and begins to decay? It's just that his sunlight happens to be cancer.

He takes my hand, and whispers something in a hoarse, wavering voice, like the simple act of talking is potentially enough of a strain to kill him. It's hard to hear him, but I don't bother to lean forward. The message gets through loud and clear.

"...Kei...taro... preserve our... leg...acy... ... Y... You're the only..." his words are cut off by a fit of coughing here, so hard it shakes his bed and rattles his IV drips; it's important because it's the last violent movement he'll ever make in his life. "... the only... one... who can..."

They're touching words.

Isn't it amazing how touching people are when they're about to die and know it?

As if emotional weight is going to save them from the inevitability that comes after the last bits of oxygen are done circulating through their body.

Or maybe to try and impart some lasting impact on the final people they see, to at least leave some scar of the memory of "I existed!" on another person's soul?

Hmm. I'd say it's 50/50. In his case it's probably the latter. Which isn't to say he's a bad person, it's just to say he's human.

Honestly though, I'm just wishing he'd stop touching my hand and die already.

And just like that--

Keita Ishibashi was a hardworking man. His sole principle in life was that one would be rewarded if they avoided life's vices and worked diligently. He believed this when he was raised up by his middle class family in Inaba to earn the top grades in his school, not because of intelligence but because of how tirelessly he studied; he believed this when he was given the opportunity to study abroad and diligently learned about the world around him; he believed this when he started his own business in pharmaceuticals and built up a strong, dependable company from nothing more than his ever-steadfast work ethic and determination.

Keita even believed in this ideal when he married his wife, Itsuko Enomoto. She was homely, but dependable -- demure and, though she had a mischievous side, she dutifully kept it under wraps around the serious man she loved. The kind of woman ideal for a man like Keita Ishibashi. His principle held through, even to then. If this were a video game, he'd be nearing the "top score." All, he believed, because of his tireless dedication of his entire life to work. Isn't that what it means to be a great man?

Bzzzt! Wrong! Keita Ishibashi was a "weak man."

Don't get the wrong idea though; I don't want to sound like I'm disrespecting him.

He was just a narrow-minded loser.

... What? Come on, come on! Think about it:

What do you think happens when you devote yourself and your entire life to one principle, one belief, one idea, one anything?

Better yet, what do you think happens when you purposefully throw every lifeboat on a ship overboard except one and declare, "This is the only lifeboat I will ever need!"?

And what do you think happens when the ship starts to sink and you notice there's a small hole in the bottom of your only lifeline?

Well? Do you want to find out? Alright. For this hypothetical situation, let's call Keita Ishibashi's lifeboat his "legacy." The hole? Hmmm. What should the hole be... ... oh, right.

"On April 19th, Itsuko Ishibashi gave birth to a baby girl." How does that sound?

The horror! The shame!

They had spent so much time trying to conceive, and wound up with this?

Now, don't be judgmental. For a man who valued tradition above all and put his sliver of immortality called "legacy" upon a pedestal higher than anything else, Keita Ishibashi was understandably rattled. You could say he was stabbed in the heart by his expectations.

So what do you think happens now? A reasonable man who opens up his mind to the concept of infinite possibilities might have been fine with such a situation.

But any person who can only cling to their one precious principle for salvation and their iron-clad tradition for guidance is going to keep pursuing it through the same methods doggedly, even when it's rejected them. Keita Ishibashi wanted a boy to inherit his legacy, to carry on his name, to etch out his place in eternity.

So his solution to the problem of the hole was to deny the hole even existed.

Isn't human imagination wonderful?

He rejected reality and rejected his daughter Noriko and decided to try again -- and this time, get it right. If we were to use the analogy of the sinking ship, in Keita's mind Noriko was not the hole; she was one of the lifeboats that Keita had already decided to cast aside. A non-factor from the day she was born.

There's a sense of what they call "dramatic irony" to this, but you'll understand that later.

Stress was getting to him, but Keita was too stubborn to stop now. He poured all that desperation, all that pride, all that bullheadedness into his next attempt. Though Itsuko cared for her child, to Keita, Noriko stopped existing the second she was born. His reality was to have a son.

And that's how I was born.

Aaah, did I spoil too much?? Yes, I am the main character of this story! How couldn't I be? But for the sake of objectivity, let's stay on the outside looking in. Autobiographies have never really been stylish.

This baby boy was named "Keitaro." A greatly blessed son. In other words, Keita thought this baby was going to be a blessing upon their house and his future.

I wonder: do parents ever consider the weight of the names they put on their children's shoulders? A girl named "Fumiko" has the expectation of being a beautiful child, but if she's not born with the right set of genes for "good skin" or "aesthetically pleasing features" or "a decent chest," she has to live the rest of her life knowing she was a failure from the moment she was born.

Parents are so cruel~!

Keitaro Ishibashi was born a year after Noriko Ishibashi, on April 19th exactly. It was like Keita really was wiping away his "bad" reality with a new one. His son was healthy, and strong. Keita decided that he would make sure his boy would grow up to be the child he always wanted.

From the moment he was born, Keitaro was lavished in attention and acceptance from his father. Not the kind that would spoil a child, though, of course not. The kind that would make a child strong. Keitaro was taught at the best school and by the best tutors.

Keita might have been narrow-minded but he was a virtuous man, of a kind; he even made sure Noriko got a decent education at the same schools, even if not with that expectation of success. Even if not with the extra tutoring, or the additional instruction in martial arts, or the personal tours and explanations of his company's ins and outs. An honest individual if there ever was one. It was a pretty disgusting quality.

But what could life have been like, in such circumstances? Let's look further forward; I promise, it's interesting!

And looking further...

"Congratulations!"

Itsuko Ishibashi falls back, panting. Her third child has been born today. The doctor hands Itsuko her baby, still sobbing with a newfound voice and life.

"It's a girl," says the doctor gently as he hands the child over to her. Itsuko manages a weak smile, cradling the baby affectionately.

"Isn't that wonderful?" she murmurs. "Keita-chan, what should we name her...?"

Nothing.

"Keita...?"

Itsuko looks over. What she sees is only Noriko by her side. Outside, on the other side of the glass window is Keita Ishibashi, teaching his eight year-old son the basic fundamentals of business ethics.

And further still...

"Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

A young Keitaro stands crying in the middle of the living room. A year older Noriko hides behind her mother. In her hand is a doll.

"What's the matter, Kei-kun?" Itsuko asks sweetly, looking down at Noriko behind her as she speaks.

"N-Noriko stole... my doll...!" Keitaro laments. He's the pinnacle of tragedy at this very moment, snot drooling down his right nostril with the fervor of his sadness.

"He's lying!" shouts back Noriko. "I didn't steal it! It's mine! I--"

"Nori-chan," chides their mother sweetly. "How about this? Let Kei-kun have the doll for the rest of the day. After that, you can have it back for as long as you want it. How does that sound?"

Noriko's lips scrunch up, soon followed by her brows, and soon followed by her angry stare. Finally, she huffs a defeated sigh. "... /Fine./" Walking over as if she were literally being dragged by some invisible force, Noriko hands the doll over to Keitaro. The young boy beams brightly.

"Thanks, onee-san~!" he chirps happily. Noriko just looks generally displeased as she walks back.

"That's better, Nori-chan. Now come along with me, let's go take care of your sister. She's running a fever, and..."

Ushered off, Noriko takes one last look back to catch a glimpse Keitaro throwing the treasured doll in the trash before the door closes behind her.

And further still...

"What, are you scared?"

A twelve year-old Keitaro stares at his thirteen year-old sister Noriko pitiably. It's the look one might give a sympathetically pathetic coward.

"No," Noriko responds flatly. "I just don't see the point--"

"Aaaah, aaahhhh, there you go again!" Keitaro complains, waving his hands through the air. "Making excuses for your cowardice! Oh, it's okay though, Akiha-chan and I will just find someone else to play with. Right, Aki-chan?"

"Mm-hmm!" Akiha, their younger sister, nods happily, eyes shut with mirth. She's barely four years old.

"But it's so late," Keitaro reflects somberly. "Who knows what kind of people we'll find if we look for a stranger to play with us..."

Noriko's brow twitches. She's likely thinking, "What kind of trouble will I get in if I just hit him once? I could probably put a lot of strength into one good strike and that wouldn't look as bad as two or more--"

But instead she says, "Fine. /Fine./ Let's just... let's just get this over with, okay?? This is so /stupid./"

"Congratulations, Nori-chan is no longer a coward!" Keitaro claps his hands together enthusiastically, looking to his younger sister. "Isn't that great, Aki-chan??"

"Hurray, Nori-chan is no longer a coward!" Akiha repeats innocently, not really understanding the meaning behind the words.

"/Ugh./"

Five minutes later, the three circle around their living room in a counterclockwise direction twice. They shout, "Persona-sama, Persona-sama, please come to us!" each time.

Three minutes later, a tired and stressed Keita Ishibashi demands - loudly - that they stop their racket and get to bed.

One hour later, Keitaro Ishibashi has a dream he will never quite be able to remember exactly, but one that will haunt his memories forever. About a butterfly, and a somber-looking man in a mask...

And further still...

"Trust me; this is the only route if you want to skip class without anyone noticing."

Keitaro is now on the cusp of his teenage years as he gestures ambivalently to a map laid out in front of his fellow middle school students. He doesn't really remember their names. Why should he have ever bothered?

"I dunno, that new hall monitor is pretty intense."

"Yeah... Isn't she--?"

"Ara ara, you all need a little more faith in your friends," Keitaro chides, wagging a finger before planting it down on the map. It's very detailed, even though it seems hand-made. "Who else is going to know the best way out with her watching but me? Have I ever led you wrong before?"

Three minutes after that, they finally relent and Keitaro graciously accepts their money as they leave.

Fifteen minutes after that, all three of the boys Keitaro was talking to are caught when they stumble upon the current hall monitor, Noriko Ishibashi, having been sent down the very route only she uses.

One minute after that, Keitaro Ishibashi leisurely walks out of school while his sister is distracted.

And let's slow down the clock...

Keitaro eventually graduated from middle school. The time had come where he would take the first steps toward becoming a real man. But Keita wasn't blind. Desperate, but not blind. He had noticed Keitaro's increasingly delinquent attitude. But he couldn't give up on his son, not after all he had invested. After all, Keitaro was his only lifeboat.

See, the funny thing about human imagination is this: it's just your imagination.

If you want to look at it from a certain metaphysical point of view, I guess you could say that your imagination is a piece of "reality" and reality itself is just a conglomeration of all humanity's imaginations writhing together in one incoherent mass, but that still means "reality" can't be defined by only your "perception."

Or if you want to look at it a different way, a certain philosopher taught us that what appears for one person is that person's reality. If that's your belief, then what happens when those realities conflict?

Keita's reality vs. Keitaro's reality. Which one was stronger?

Round One -- ~*/FIGHT\*~!

In order to teach his son some humility, Keita sent Keitaro to the small town of Inaba to attend high school there under the supervision of his grandparents. It was where Keita himself grew up; he thought, "If such a place could instill the meaning and value of hard work in me, then it must be able to do it for my son, my own flesh and blood."

When Keitaro Ishibashi enrolled in Yasogami High, he approached it as a painter might approach a canvas. Yes, that's the best way to put it. In fact, it wouldn't be too far to say Keitaro Ishibashi was an artist. Only his medium was not paint, or music, or the written word. If you wanted to put it eloquently, you could say his medium was "the human soul." Poetic, isn't it~?

Keitaro did well in his classes, but they bored him. And he knew it bored the other students, too. So who could blame him, for wanting to liven things up for them? You could think of it like a charity.

His first year was spent getting adjusted to his new situation. Gaining 'friends,' cultivating a reputation. When that was secured, his work began. Like... hmmmm. Ah! How about we look at examples from his last two years? The second is the important one and the one most relevant to our story, of course, but don't take that to mean you should overlook the other! It's a fascinating piece of art in its own way.

Akane Haruguchi is in love with a boy.

She's loved him for so long she can't even remember when it started. They grew up as childhood friends, inseperable and devoted. But since middle school, they've grown more distant with every passing year, and the distance has just made her need him more.

"Why won't he talk to me anymore?" she must ask herself, every passing day. "Why won't he look at me? Is it because I don't look good enough? Because I'm not assertive enough?

"... What is wrong with me...?"

Pure love mixes with anxiety and becomes a hue of restless infatuation. Infatuation, foolish but still affectionate, mixes with insecurity and becomes a muddy and dark obsession. The obsession consumes everything.

His name is Takeshi Hayata. And all she wants in life is for him to accept her.

She comes to Keitaro Ishibashi, another Second Year, looking for advise. Not only is Keitaro a part of Takeshi's circle of friends, but he has rapidly built up a reputation amongst students as the "sly transfer student" who knows how to "fix problems." If anyone can help her, he can.

And he's more than willing to, too! He tells her, gently and sweetly, "The problem is with yourself, Aka-chan." She thinks she hears the faintest hints of condemnation in that voice, and it only confirms everything she feared.

The problem is her.

He doesn't like her "self" anymore.

Takeshi has become so popular lately. But Akane is so reserved. Keitaro tells her so. "You're too insecure," he says. He's right. She is. She's never liked herself. So the answer must be to change herself.

So she does. So dedicated is she to her pure love that Akane Haruguchi completely makes herself over, from her appearance to her personality. She models her "new" self on the girls Takeshi must like - the girls that are popular, like him.

She begins to keep up with all the latest fashions, go to clubs, build up a network of superficial and shallow friendships based largely on the detestment of others. She smokes, she drinks. Takes on older boyfriends to secure a source of money through enjo kousai. She becomes everything she wasn't before.

At the end of their third year, they will meet again for the first time after being so long apart. The girl, now confident he will acknowledge her, will ask the boy out. The boy will turn her down. The girl will see the disgust in his eyes. She won't understand. She will be shocked -- no, "traumatized" might be the better word.

But how could she have understood?

The boy always liked the girl.

He was just too afraid to tell the girl and, not wishing to ruin their friendship, distanced himself.

Yet how could he have understood?

The girl was too self-conscious to accept herself and realize the boy's feelings for her "self," and instead forced a transformation into the very thing he hated.

"The problem is yourself, Aka-chan."

"You're too insecure."

Yoshihiro Fukuda knows one day he will become a great baseball star.

He's known ever since he was a kid, when he put on a catcher's mitt for the first time. The feel of the leather, the exhilaration of throwing the ball. There was nothing else that could compare.

When he curls his fingers around the bat, Yoshihiro knows his place in the universe. This isn't meant to sound haughty -- it's simply the way he feels. Have you ever felt that pure connection to something you are passionate about? When you do, you realize: this is your destiny. Yoshihiro's destiny is that grand diamond field.

His great pride is the knowledge that he will one day become famous for his talents. Not because of the fame he will receive for it, but because he will have played and conquered his sport out on the world's stage. For a true athlete, there could be no better outcome. This is Yoshihiro's "nirvana."

Which is why Yoshihiro is understandably rattled the day his team loses. It's just a practice match, but for Yoshihiro it's not the loss that shakes him to his core. It's the fact that it was his fault; his plays were weak; he was unfocused; he cost them the game. It has never happened to him before. Is it an ill omen?

For the following days, he is distant and short-tempered with his teammates. But he knows the blame rests on him. He's their star player. If he can't perform, are his dreams really the inevitable reality he thinks they are?

"Yo, Hirochin!"

Yoshihiro looks up from his position near the edge of Yasogami's rooftop. It is Keitaro Ishibashi there to greet him. Though Keitaro is in a different class and they have never once interacted personally, the young transfer student's reputation precedes him.

A transfer student that seems to have all the right answers. He heard this student was responsible for Akane Haruguchi's ascent in popularity.

Maybe...

Keitaro sits down next to him. Yoshihiro doesn't know why the other boy is being so friendly when they've barely talked before. "I heard about the loss," Keitaro sympathizes. Just hearing it from someone else stings Yoshihiro deeply.

But Keitaro tells Yoshihiro he can help.

He knows people, he says, who can supply Yoshihiro with something to improve his performance drastically. He knows, he says, that Yoshihiro is a great player. He probably doesn't even need it.

But having some insurance never hurts, does it?

Normally, Yoshihiro would just flat out reject this sort of offer. But today... his pride has been wounded. He has one dream. What is he, without that dream? ...

He accepts. And like a magician, Keitaro swiftly produces the wondrous solution to Yoshihiro's dilemma. He doesn't even ask Yoshihiro to pay him. "I'm doing this for your dream," he says. Yoshihiro can't remember the last time he's met someone this nice before -- relatively speaking. It makes him suspicious.

That doesn't mean he stops taking the drugs, though. They work like a charm. Summer Koushien begins. This is the defining moment for Yoshihiro Fukuda. His team is an unstoppable juggernaut; they clear through the preliminary matches with little difficulty. The fans cheer him on. Him. This is his hour. This is what it's like to grasp onto destiny.

...

It's toward the end of the season that it happens. They are one match away from playing at Hashin Koushien Stadium for the finals when the officials run a search of Yoshihiro's locker based on an anonymous tip. Yoshihiro does not know why he feels more ashamed than horrified when they discover his stash of performance enhancers, but he does.

He still feels that shame when he is kicked off his team; he feels it when his chances of becoming a professional player are practically torn to shreds. There is some sliver of hope, but right now, Yoshihiro can't feel it. Eventually even the shame disappears. He can't feel anything anymore. What is he, without that dream?

Nothing.

...

The scenario should have ended there. But--

• ring, ring*
  :*ring, ring*
  ::*ring, ri--click*

"Moshi mooooshi!" chirps Keitaro Ishibashi's voice pleasantly,

"Keitaro-san." It is Yoshihiro. Keitaro cannot make anything of his tone. Like the voice on the other end of the line isn't even alive.

"Ah, Hirochin~. I'm sorry to hear--"

"I'd like you to meet me at the flood plain in an hour."

"Oh my. You sound awfully scary, Hirochin. Should I--"

"Just be there."
*click*

...

Keitaro is already at the flood plain by the time Yoshihiro arrives. He lifts his right hand while the other tucks something away into his pocket, wriggles his fingers, and greets Yoshihiro pleasantly -- but now, Yoshihiro can hear the acidity hidden beneath the pleasant tone. Why didn't he notice it before?

Before Keitaro can say anything more, Yoshihiro tells him. Tells him that he knows. The anonymous tip that the officials received -- it was Keitaro who phoned it in.

He had essentially set Yoshihiro up for his own fall.

"Wouldn't it be you that set yourself up for your own fall?" he asks. "Displacing your weakness onto others isn't a very becoming quality--"

Yoshihiro tells him he doesn't care. He just wants to know why. Did he do something to upset Keitaro? Did the other boy hold a grudge against him? What? Why? WHY?

Keitaro smiles.

"You're probably thinking 'this must have been revenge for something I did! Or maybe he was jealous of me??'" he says with the ambivalent shrug of his shoulders. "But to say I felt those things toward you would be overestimating your importance a bit. Sorry~! I won't use a cliché line like 'I didn't even know your name,' but... I never really cared one way or the other about you. That's the truth. If you really want to put an explanation on it, let's say... hm... 'I just wanted to see what would happen when the only thing that mattered to someone was taken away by their own pride.' How does that sound? Though you should know: your reaction was pretty disappointing. There wasn't even any big dramatic finish!"

Keitaro shakes his head and closes his eyes. But by now, Yoshihiro can't even hear his words.

"But you know, I've heard of a lot of great rehabilitation programs. If you go to one, I'd say there's about a 5.0062% chance you can get back--"

Yoshihiro lunges. Tackling the boy to the muddy ground, Yoshihiro strikes him hard across the face. There's no possible way he can fight back. Yoshihiro is stronger from years and years of training to realize his dreams; the extra lacing of performance-enhanced musculature powering the blow is just icing on the cake.

He strikes Keitaro again. He hears something crack. Keitaro's jaw? Yet the boy doesn't seem fazed. He doesn't struggle. And that makes Yoshihiro angrier.

He pulls something metallic from his pocket, something small and rectangular. The right segment flips open, and Keitaro's eyes finally widen when he sees the gleam of the butterfly knife's blade against the dim lighting.

Yoshihiro presses his free hand roughly against Keitaro's face, forcing him into the mud. The boy only struggles for a few seconds before Yoshihiro stabs him in the abdomen, sinking the blade down straight to the hilt. Keitaro spasms frantically in the throes of shocking pain; Yoshihiro just pushes him harder into the unforgiving earth.

He tears the knife free, stabs again. The thrusts of his hand are powerful but unfocused and though full of rage, they are uncertain. Almost panicked, and overcompensating in raw, feral force. The mark of someone who's never killed someone before, but intends to claim their first. He lifts the bloodied blade up one more time his eyes simultaneously burning with rage and horror--

There is a flash. The light from the lamps above seem to be devoured as something black and phantasmal seeps from Keitaro like liquid night. There is a horrible shriek that makes Yoshihiro feel like his ears are going to burst. He sees an inhuman eye opening, staring at him as if to gaze into his soul--

...

It is only two minutes later that police sirens invade the flood plains to find one boy lying in a pool of his own blood. The other lies roughly foot away from him, unconscious. Didn't the caller say--

"I'm at the Samegawa flood plain!" Keitaro Ishibashi says with a panicked voice into the phone. "Some kid is beating somebody up -- I think they're students, I've seen them before around Yasogami! They just got into an argument and-- and-- just get here, as fast as you can!"

Keitaro hangs up his cell phone and slips it into his pocket as he catches Yoshihiro approaching in the distance. Smiling cheerfully, he lifts his right hand, and wriggles his fingers.

"Yo!"

...

It takes Keitaro Ishibashi over a month to recover from his injuries. His parents are never informed; his grandparents, at his insistence, decide that it would cause his father undue stress, especially while he was in the middle of trying to recuperate his business from a financial downturn.

While he had expected Yoshihiro Fukuda to attack him, Keitaro hadn't expected him to actually try to kill him. It is a surprising feeling. And it led to even more unexpected results. That power he had summoned up by instinct to save his own life...

There are two important lessons that Keitaro will take away from this particular project: the first is that there is a whole world that Keitaro never even knew existed, a piece of which lived inside him -- he'd learn later that piece is called "Persona." It will open his horizons to even grander possibilities.

The second is that you can never predict human behavior. Every human game could potentially end in the loss of Keitaro's life -- or worse. Essentially, what he is crafting is not just art -- it's a gamble.

It makes the prospect even more appealing.

Aren't people remarkable??

The depths they're willing to go to for abstract concepts like "a dream" or "love," I mean!

They only show their darkest traits for their purest feelings -- it's an amazing paradox!! You can't find anything else like it in this entire world!!

Changing your entire identity, sacrificing your body. Killing someone. For a word someone made up to define a vague feeling that should be "good"!

Aaaah, is it any wonder I can't get enough of this feeling??

But I suppose that's my dark depths. Ara ara, I guess even I'm not free from this marvelous paradox~.

Keitaro recovered from his injuries in time for his finals; he graduated from Yasogami High with flying colors and more than his fair share of suspicion and loathing. All centered on him, from people he didn't even know. It was a refreshing sensation.

Upon graduation, Keitaro entered Sumaru University. His father had been growing increasingly sick in his absence; he was told it was from stress. Keita's business was doing poorly. And, as Keitaro entered Sumaru University, his father made it very clear that he would be majoring in business or paying for his education himself.

Keitaro was remarkably compliant. In fact, the delinquency that seemed to define him in his childhood and tenure at Inaba seemed to vanish entirely. Unlike at Yasogami, Keitaro was far more restrained. His art projects practically ground to a halt.

The truth was Keitaro had grown bored of those particular games. No, it wasn't that -- it was that he found a new game. And he couldn't very well ignore his newer, shinier toy just to feign false interest in the older one he had played out countless times already, could he?

Of course not.

Keitaro's new toy was called "Persona." The thing that manifested within him the day he almost died. He remembered the voice, resonating deep inside his mind.

I am thou... thou art I. I am Akoman, the cause of evil intent...

For the next four years of Keitaro's life, he researched this thing called "Persona." He heard about the Persona game through occult rumors -- could he find more about it through there? He dipped deep into the occult, into the psychological, into anything he could get his hands on.

The internet proved to be his most worthy ally. Did you know, with the right access codes and enough patience and effort, you can learn practically anything about anyone you might want through the net? Millions and millions and millions of lives all nestled into a web of information.

It took a while to find what he wanted. All the information he found typically came through rumors rather than legitimate evidence at best -- and most of it came through the rumors of rumors. It wasn't surprising; if something so fantastical was even remotely common knowledge, it would have spread like wildfire by now.

Instead, it seemed to be systematically suppressed through rumors and urban legends. Rumors and information that he happened to stumble upon through the website "the Darkside of Sumaru," a literal, digital treasure trove of information. It all took his breath away.

A secret world only a relative handful of the population knew about. And he was lucky enough to be able to experience it first-hand. Luck he derived from ruining someone else's life to the point that this person he could care less about thought he was important enough to kill.

Aaaaah~! But we've been seguing off track from the main point of this story for a while now, haven't we? Sorry, sorry! Let's see, where were we... Ah, right! This is all about a battle. No, no -- that's too generous a word I think. Hmmm... This is all about...

... Failure.

The truth of the matter was, Keitaro Ishibashi's attitude had not improved at all, and Keita knew this. He had to know this. But he was getting sicker and sicker. At first, they thought it was just stress. Keita was a stubborn and traditional man and did not believe in doctors -- he could overcome any problem himself, and it was his burden to bear, he thought.

That line of thinking didn't help him much when he collapsed in the middle of a board meeting. For the first time, Keita Ishibashi's life was out of his hands as the ambulance rushed him like a pale metal horseman to the place where his last bits of control would be ripped away from him.

It was all remarkably surreal. He thought: "Is this real?" when they put him through all manners of tests and scans; half of them he had never even heard of before.

He thought: "Is this real?" when the doctor diagnosed him with late-stage lymphoma and told him the cancer had already metastasized.

He thought: "Is this real?"' when the doctor told him, given his age and the stage of the lymphoma, his odds of survival were incredibly slim.

He thought: "Is this real?" when the treatment began and he felt his health slip away, little by little, devoured by the monstrosity inside him and the monstrosities used to make a futile war against it.

But it was real. It was real when he was forced to be confined to a hospital bed. It was real when his family came to visit him -- his wife, Itsuko, always there by his side, expressing the fear that he had such a hard time registering so clearly on her face. His daughters. Who would protect all of them when he was gone?

Who would protect his legacy...?

And then, he thought: "Keitaro." The only lifeboat he had on his sinking ship. Would this one have a hole? Keitaro had not come to visit him once. But if he stressed, clearly, what was about to happen; that his own father was about to die; that he was the only one who could preserve the family; that he was the only one who could support his mother and sisters; ... that he was the only one who could carry on his company...

Keita was already on his proverbial death bed when Keitaro arrived at the hospital. Times had changed. Noriko was now a prominent detective with the Sumaru Police Department. Akiha was starting to attend school. His mother was worn down by stress. His father looked like Death itself.

...

Really? A detective?

It was like she was saying, through symbolic and metaphoric wavelengths, "I will not rest until I destroy everything that makes you you, Keitaro." Or maybe more to the point,

"Keitaro, I hate your guts."

Then again, I can't say the feeling wasn't mutual. It's like, if--aaaah, but we're getting off track again, aren't we?

And now here we are at the moment of truth. Keitaro Ishibashi, standing over his dying father. His dying father, giving his last wish. Keita's gambit, bet on the only hand he has ever played with all the money and valuables he could ever have. His hand, laid bare:

"...Kei...taro... preserve our... leg...acy... ... Y... You're the only... ... the only... one... who can..."

Those were his last words. Keita died soon after that, silently but not peacefully. In his will, he left much of his inheritance to his son. Through a series of arrangements, he granted control over his company's majority stock to Keitaro, as well. He assumed that Keitaro would at least know the value of responsibility to one's family.

He was proven wrong when Keitaro's first act as owner of Ishibashi Pharmaceuticals was to have the company liquidated.

And that is where he made his mistake. If this was a sports show we'd be stopping here for the instant action slow-motion replay and telegraphing all the ways in which Keita made the moronic error that lost him the game.

It was never Keitaro who should have run the company. It was always Noriko.

The hard-working one was always Noriko.

The straightforward and honest one was always Noriko.

The committed and responsible one was always Noriko.

The one who helped provide for and protect the family was always Noriko.

And though Keitaro was skilled at business, it could never compensate for the fact that he was fundamentally everything Keita was not... while Noriko was everything he was.

Do you see the irony now? It's pretty good, right?

Keita had the perfect heir from the start, and his ignorance led him towards choosing the worst possible heir. The miniscule hole that was Noriko's "gender" could never compare to the gaping wound that was Keitaro's "selfishness."

It wasn't that hard to convince the company stockholders and the board that liquidating the company was the right thing to do. Keitaro was persuasive and, with their recent financial troubles, it seemed like the best possible option for the handful of people who would ultimately benefit from it.

Add to this the fact that Keitaro was barely in his mid-twenties and being assigned to run a company by a dead man that many now believed was going insane from the cancer, the decision was what you might call a "sure bet."

Not long after Keita Ishibashi passed away, his company was officially liquidated. Dismantled, torn apart, cast to the winds with only some billions of paper slips to represent it. Workers lost their jobs; Keita's family was left with nothing.

In the end, the legacy Keita Ishibashi spent years creating took a little less than two months to take apart. I could give a long-winded reason for why, but for now, I'll just offer the simple version:

"Why not?"

Keita's reality vs. Keitaro's reality -- Round One!

KEITARO WINS!

FATALITY!

Shortly after, Keitaro disappeared. Not entirely, of course, but he really had no interest in taking care of a family he never really cared much for to begin with, and he wanted to see his sister suffer a bit too on general principle. Taking his money with him, Keitaro decided to change his name -- remake his identity, in a way.

He never liked the name Keitaro. A stifling name bestowed by a stifling man living a stifling life.

"Daisuke" would be better. "Daisuke" would let everyone know exactly what he was.

"A great helper."

"Daisuke Itami" quickly set up shop in Okina City. He already knew exactly what he wanted to do, and Okina was the perfect place for it. From there, one could get to Lunarvale, to Sumaru, to Port City -- all places he had heard vague rumors of the supernatural originate from -- rumors that seemed to tie into "Persona." Okina City was like a central hub, the beating heart of the organism that was Daisuke's "passion."

He loved all those cities.

He wanted them all to feel and understand his untold love for them in the best way he knew how.

Using his newfound self-made fortune, he created a cyber-investigations agency based out of Okina; he funneled most of his money into this endeavor. The rest? He could care less about what happened to the rest of the money; his only concern was his new business. After all, the World Wide Web was a great tool for many things, and what better way to use it than to help people connect to others, to learn all they can about each other? To have their problems solved through the vastness of cyberspace?

That must be the mark of a "great man."

And if he used that business to shield and fuel his passions, who could hold it against him?

Who could hold it against him if he used his business to deal out illicit information to equally illicit individuals?

And who could hold it against him if he were to use the connections he created out of these illicit deals to form up an information network across his four most precious cities?

Answer: "Noriko Ishibashi?"

He had received a call about her from one of the Sumaru contacts on his network. Oh right, he remembered. She was a detective now, wasn't she? And apparently she was investigating him.

He knew it couldn't be out of anything more than spite. What did he ever do to her, besides be born? He "liberated" her from the burden of Keita's legacy and now she wanted to tear him down for it?

If it was anyone else, he would have found this very fact to be remarkable -- he would have been infatuated with a person who could hold on to their hate with such power and focus and care about him that much to come after him, to try and tear him down.

If it was anyone else. But it wasn't. It was Noriko Ishibashi. To Daisuke Itami (and, in his opinion, probably 90% of the people who knew her), she was his "ultimate buzz kill."

But -- but -- BUT --

He had heard an interesting urban legend: in Sumaru, if a rumor is properly spread, it can come true.

Creating reality from fiction. Imposing your imagination on someone else. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it were true?

Of course, he'd have to find a way to test it, to see if it really worked. Of course. You can't take anything on good faith these days. You need to have first-hand evidence.

But how to test it?

...

About three months later, Noriko Ishibashi was caught up in the midst of a prominent bribery scandal within the Sumaru Police Department. Though there wasn't enough evidence to outright put her in jail, poor Nori-chan was disgraced. Her career in shambles, she was demoted and transferred to a backwater town far removed of Sumaru - the official sign of the has-beens and never-will-bes.

Hahahahaha!!

Isn't that hilarious?

Isn't that fantastic??

Noriko Ishibashi, the hardest working member of the Ishibashi family - so pure of heart, so adamantly pursuing justice and hard work and virtue - disgraced, all because someone whispered an untruth often enough that it twisted reality itself!!

It didn't matter how virtuous or diligent she was! With only a rumor, Daisuke -- I, /I/ altered her "reality"! Ahahaha!

Aaaah! So this is what you would call a miracle?!

... ... What~?

Don't look at me like that! It makes me feel like I did something underhanded and vile.

All I did was perform a bit of an experiment. I just gave reality a little "push" to see if it would hold or if it would yield. Do you get angry at someone for trying to take your Queen in a game of chess?

Of course I would push the pieces in a way that would benefit me the most.

Doesn't that go without saying?

...

Over a year has passed. Two years? It's so hard to keep track. I'm sure Nori-chan is doing well. I wonder if she's finally killed herself by now so I don't have to deal with her? Aaah, that's probably too high a hope~.

All my favorite places have been brimming with all sorts of interesting things, too. How lucky am I, to be in a situation like this? Maybe I'll indulge myself a little... and stick my hand in the cookie jar.