Chapter 6: Bad Memories Part 1.

Keicho's Story:(Keicho First Person POV)

It all began twelve years ago, when I was 5 years old and my little brother was 3. My mother, bless her soul, suddenly contracted cancer. We hired doctors, tried to save her, but in the end, we could only watch as her body slowly fell apart, eventually culminating in her death. 

 

During this time, my father fell into a depression, and lost his job. This all happened during the economic crash in the late 80's, so it was very difficult for him to find work and start anew. As a result, my family fell into poverty. 

 

Out of necessity, our family came to depend on government aid in order to survive. But this only enabled our heavily depressed father to give up on life. 

 

He was simply too weak willed, to get back out there after facing so much rejection from potential employers. He'd never truly gotten over his grief from our mother's untimely death.

 

Eventually, He turned to drinking to deal with his sorrows. But due to this, he became less and less emotionally stable. Over time, He slowly underwent a transformation from a once decent husband and loving father, to an alcoholic and a loser. 

 

He began beating us whenever he felt like it. Especially when he was drunk, and the times when he was sober were becoming more and more sparse.

 

He would wake up in the middle of the day, shamble out to some bar, and spend the rest of the day drinking and gambling away what little money he had scraped up. 

 

Late at night, he would come home in a furious rush looking to vent his anger on someone or something. He'd break furniture, slam doors, and find any excuse to beat us up. 

 

The next day he'd warmly apologize, and promise not to do it again. But within the week, he'd go out and do it all over again.

 

For us, Life went on like that for a few years. Until one day, all of a sudden, large amounts of money, jewelry and gold started coming in through the mail. 

 

Apparently our father had finally found himself a decent job. At least that's what we thought. 

 

At the time, we knew very few details about what his work actually entailed. 

 

He would just disappear for days on end and suddenly reappear again on our doorstep, as if nothing happened. Then we'd get money from the mail. 

 

Frankly we didn't care where he went or how he made the money. For us it was a godsend. We wouldn't have to wake up to the living hell we had to put up with for years anymore. 

 

Our lives slowly started getting better, and we were finally able to start living like normal people. Dad was becoming a more well adjusted person, little by little. The daily beatings became weekly, and then monthly. He still drank, but it wasn’t as often and he didn’t come looking for us when he did. 

 

This should have been the turning point in our lives. Everything would go back to normal, and we could hopefully,  forget the pain of the past. 

 

But of course, reality doesn’t work that way. For us, this would only be a temporary reprieve from our life of hell. 

 

One day, I got home from school and found Okuyasu crying on our porch. At first I thought that…dad had beaten him again. 

 

Suddenly, I heard muffled shouting coming from inside the house. I tensed up, mentally prepared myself for the worst, and sneakily approached the source of the screams. 

 

I quickly realized It was coming from the kitchen. With quiet footsteps, I carefully approached the door and slowly turned the knob. I didn’t want to make any noise and alert my father.

 

At the time, I thought he was drunk, and I'd long since learned that it was best to avoid him when he was.

 

But the screams and shouts were concerning. For a brief moment, I thought he might have killed someone. 

 

I made just enough space for me to peek in, and take a look around. Fortunately, the scene of gore I'd imagined hadn't manifested before me. 

 

There was a lone figure collapsed on the floor. In the darkness, his face was obstructed, but I recognized that silhouette. I’d seen it for all my life and in my nightmares. The person in the kitchen was my father.

 

When I got a closer look at him, I realized that something was wrong with him. 

 

He was crying in despair and anguish. 

 

Disgusting green boils were growing out the top of his head, and on the side of his face. 

 

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He had cuts and scratches all over the sides of his head, and there was blood on his fingertips. Apparently, those were self-inflicted. 

 

“It’s over, I'm ruined!!" he shouted. Tears and snot were streaming down his face. 

 

At first I thought he burned himself. I called out to him. I begged him to go to the hospital, to get himself treated. 

 

In response he violently slammed his fist on the floor and shouted "it's no use! Dio is dead, The implant is growing out of control!"

 

After that, he lost consciousness. 

 

We had an ambulance take him to the hospital, but the doctors there had absolutely no idea what they were looking at.

 

When My father regained consciousness, he simply walked out. Later, He threatened to beat us if we ever took him to the hospital again. That was the last time I tried to get treatment for him.  

 

Over time, we watched in horror as his body fell apart and rotted from the inside out. As his body slowly deteriorated, he became less and less mentally capable. It was like watching an old man with alzheimers grow senile, though he should have been way to young for that…

 

Within a year, he could no longer even recognize us.

 

It took me ten years to find out who this Dio person was, what stands where, and why our father lost his sanity. I had to put it all together from old notes I found on Dad's desk, and any odd phrases I could hear from his incoherent ramblings.

 

I went out and investigated several people who had some connection to my father. Visited all old drunkards, and gamblers from all those bars he once frequented. 

 

From them, I heard some strange rumors about this 'Dio' person. I heard many things,  that 'Dio' was an ancient vampire, that he was a god, I even heard he was a devil. To be honest, Not much of it was all that reliable but I did puzzle some things together. 

 

Apparently, this 'Dio' character was working on something big. He led some sort of underground shadowy organization, with an unknown purpose. Many of its members were criminals, mercenaries, and scumbags. Some members were loyal out of self interest, fear, or for profit. Others worshiped him as a god.

 

Whatever the case, All of them had some connection to the supernatural. 

 

Dio was scouring the world in search of people with Stand potential. His goal, to me, remains a mystery. All I know is that because of this, my father caught his eye. 

 

My father had Stand potential, and his ability was deemed to be of some use to him, though I never found out what it was. 

 

Dio offered my father a large sum of money. In exchange, he would swear fealty to him and become his subordinate. 

 

My father was a greedy man, and he chose to work for him despite knowing what kind of a person Dio was.

 

But it all came at a cost, Dio was a cautious man, he would not tolerate any information leaks, or potential betrayals. He would not trust those he fully couldn't control. 

 

As a part of my father's contract, he agreed to undergo a procedure that allowed Dio to implant his undead cells into him. The cells would make it so that he could never act against him, and if necessary, Dio could kill him with just a thought. Every implant was psychically connected to Dio.

 

My father knew perfectly well what sort of risk he was taking. But his greed won out over everything else. He only cared about the money. 

 

Of course, In the short term, it seemed to work out for my father. We received plenty of income on a regular basis, and our lives really were turning around. 

 

However, a deal with the devil always comes back to bite you in the ass. One day, Dio was killed by a man called Jotaro Kujo.

 

And because Dio was killed, no one alive was left to control the implant. It began growing on my father's body at an impossible rate. It was like a goddamn cancer on steroids. Nothing could stop it, and it would always regenerate. 

 

In the end, my father fell to his current state. It was all because of his own greed. 

 

Now nothing else remains from that time. The remnants of that organization dispersed like cockroaches after the death of Dio. 

 

In my father's case, the only thing left over from his time under Dio, is the Stand Arrow. 

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