Ketsujo; A Name That Meant Something

He was outmatched, out planned, out-manned and faced with reality. He was foolish enough to let it all slip away. All of his ideas were slipping past his fingers, all because of an oversight.

He had used money his entire life. This was not something he could buy and make go his way.

The sound of his feet echoed down the empty hallways. The people that lived in his home, asleep, peaceful. However, in his own mind, was torment, suffering, and clouded memories of his failures. His father a horrid man with no regard for himself or others. All he cared about was his family's legacy. But was this for him, or for Sato? Was it because of his own honor to his bloodline, or was it just self preservation? The thoughts of not being able to let go of it all, for the sake of protecting himself sickened him. He felt no better than his father. A corrupt man who did what he wanted and took advantage of people. Sato was a business man who had dealth underhanded tactics. But business was different than people. Forcing someone to work, was slavery. It was in his genes, this deeprooted evil.

That was why he tried to make Sashi so different.

Born to a loveless home, he tried to be better. He watched his mom in pain, suffer to be at his father's side. But divorce wasn't an option. Giving her enough money to do what she wanted, as she pleased, was possible, and something he did. She was never seen again. Sato had only his daughter at his side. He constantly fought the urges left behind from his father's genes. Resisted, and released in forms to leave his daughter pure.

He took a seat on the steps of his home, in the silent darkness of the midnight. A woman owned the house know, even if it was still in his name. His butler, now represented what used to be him. People presumed him dead, and he became a hermit. "All of this, was for naught." He thought to himself, a beast, a failure. He had climbed so hard to get to the top, and when he was there, he realized what he had done to get there. All of the shoulders he stepped on and left behind. The only ally he had, betraying him in a sense. Sato may have permitted it, but it was a trust that was left to nothing.

Sashi was dead. There was nothing he could do to bring her back.

All of the people that were at the end of a blade, cut and dissected for his own experiments. All of the data learned and research made on regeneration, recovery and healing quirks. All of it, to remedy the ailment left behind by his only offspring. The more her quirk worked, the more her body fell apart. His own abilities, were not that different. He looked over his own hands, visualizing the blood he had spilled. All of the people he paid to be removed, and the monsters he created.

His daughter was dead. The killer was his closest friend.

The silence of the home, was a reminder of who he still had left. The closest ally, the only one to see him fall from grace, was the same female who had taken everything from him. But could he blame her? The same woman, was someone he had subjected to his experiments for his own personal goals. It was his actions, coming back to haunt him. It was the purest form of karma. It was something he didn't bother to fight back. She was right to do it. He had no reason to fight something he created. She, was his own undoing. He, had created her.

But he was graced to be permitted to exist.

After it all, she didn't seek to kill him, to make him suffer as she did. No, she carried out his orders, his ideals, his will. After it all, even after she found the truth about it all, she didn't seek revenge. She sought to replace him. She saw him unfit to do his job, but not deserving of the same pain. He was tricked, into betting some of his fortune, at a chance for him to pay her nothing at all. But he wasn't tricked. Sure, it was something he could have easily won at with a few tricks, but she was right. He was unfit. He subjected others to mandatory volunteering and other experiments for his own financial gain, if not his own personal reasons. He had tossed away his ethics to make more money. He had gambled his daughter's life, and was left with nothing. He let her win, but it wasn't saying she didn't have a chance to beat him even if he tried. He wasn't deserving of any of it, and he knew that. The skeletons in his closet, were more than metaphorical. In his world, it was literal, by a single person.

He sat there in silence.

He hadn't seen himself in a mirror in what felt like years but was only a few weeks or a month at best. He was a monster. He was no longer human. Any attempt to restore himself, rested in the hands of the creatures he created. Those he subjected to pain and suffering. They were the only ones that could grant him salvation now. The same people he tried to trick before, were working with him out of the goodness of their heart. Thankful for the positions they were granted. He had no fight left in him. There was no reason to fight them. They were helping him, despite it all.

He was a monster in his own home.

He had forgotten the feeling of his own flesh. The bone hands reminding him of who he was. He wasn't that man he thought he was. He was a demon. He was a demon that fed on deceit, lies and pain. The only road to redemption, was hoping he could find salvation.

A salvation, that may never come.