Join Date: Nov 2003
Keiichi's Past (Ep. 25)
Not entirely a TIPS, but was cut off from the anime. This is Keiichi's past in which he told to Mion, Satoko, and Rika:
Keiichi: "It's...about the time before I moved here. Back then...my only skill was studying.
I learned tips and tricks on the game called studying. My grades went up very quickly. At that time, I had this idiotic ambition to study harder so I can look down upon other students.
My parents and my teacher both praised me as my grades went up. It felt really great.
I began to saw how little and cheap those jock kids were that took pride in excelling how fast they could run the 50 meters or how well they can swim. The sensation of looking down on them was exciting so I studied even harder.
By then, my grades were not only the top of the class, but began to scratch the top of my entire school. Hence, I began megalomaniacally feel that I was the most important guy in the entire school.
I was this dull and idiotic guy that would mock on the rest of the kids playing in the school yard as I sneered down at the from the window.
...As my grades went up, adults around me also began to expect more from me. They suddenly began to set my future by urging me to get into a very prestigious school. I was also self-conceited that going to that school was a given for a person of my intelligence.
But...the sensation of looking down on them began to fade away in contrast to the amount of studying that increased.
People around me also began to treat me less praise. My classmates quickly began to lose interest in my grades as a nuisance, while my teacher began to put more pressure on me to study harder. I basically began to lose the enjoyment of studying.
Besides, I didn't like studying at all in the first place.
I was just this normal brat with less-than-average athletic skills and mediocre fighting skills, who suddenly jumped on my newly found gift in which I could say I was better than anyone else. It just so happened that the gift was studying; if the gift was being able to ride a unicycle or cup-and-ball toy, I would've tried hard in excelling at them just the same as I did with studying.
Once I reached that feeling, I suddenly lost the interest in studying all together.
That's right. I was just a spoiled dickhead who wanted to be praised by everyone for being able to do something better than anyone else. ...Hence, I did all of my summer homework on time and I volunteered to help cleanup afterschool just so I can get praise from the teachers.
So once the teachers stopped praising me, I began to lose interest in life.
Back then, my parents would give me allowance based on my grades. Because of this, I had tremendous cash in my pocket even for kids at my age.
...I don't know if it I enjoyed this from the start or I was just lashing out my feelings and anger towards something else, but it was around that time that I began to get interested in model guns.
Shooting at cardboard boxes was fun and all. At least shooting an inanimate cardboard box still fell under morality. It could be deemed as relieving stress by shoving my anger towards a cardboard box.
But I quickly began to yearn to do something that would get me into deep shit.
So when I read the warning label on the model gun that read "Please do not shoot at people," I immediately wanted to start shooting at people. Why did I do something that people shouldn't do? That itself explained how primitive and childish I was at the time.
It was sort of a reactionory antipathy towards my parents who constantly bickered me to go to secondary school even when I have lost all interest in studying. If I hated it, all I had to do was say it straight to my parents that I hated studying. ...But as a little twerp that I am, I had no guts to go up against my parents.
I opened the door to my internal brutality by objecting my anger through shooting at kids younger than me.
Oh, what a thrill it was. The sweet sensation of what deep shit I'm doing with my own hands. Of course, I had nothing against the victims that I shot at. If there was no one around, that set the ground for my next victim.
I had no intention of hurting them. I felt joy at just hitting a person one or two rounds from far away. But there was this one girl who didn't realize anything even when I shot at her. It was probably because the pellet was striking where she had more clothes on or something. ...I began to get pissed so I started shooting her with more and more bullets until she realized she was getting shot at. It immediately escalated into peltering her with multiple rounds of pellets.
'I did an extremely good thing by studying really hard. So, I can also do a very bad thing on the same level to cancel that out. That creates an equilibrium balance.' That was the type of unbelievably self-centered mindset that went through me to justify my stupid action.
'I've been through all this shit and kept it all inside me. What I'm doing is my given right. So, a person who has no shit going through their lives like me are allowed to get shot and injured.'
...How selfish, conceited, and childish!
Fuck, all this anger is starting to weld up inside me towards myself as I say this from my mouth. If I was there at that time now, I would immediately jump and kick my own ass with enough strength to break several molars out of my mouth.
The incident became known escalated into what was known as a serial child assualt case. I had this ugly smirk as I listened to the principal warning the students about these incidents in his morning address.
In the pamphlet handed out by the PTA, it outlined that students should keep a sharp eye on their school routes. As time progressed, adults began to volunteer to do a neighborhood watch during after school and students were to walk home together in groups.
As the shit I was doing began to balloon into something larger, I began to remember the similar catharsis that I felt when my grades began to climb. You can say I was hooked in this 'game.' I didn't even for once think I was gonna get caught, nor did I have the intention of quitting it at a certain point either.
One fateful day.
...I saw this little girl alone in a narrow and dark street all by herself. A very little kid. ...Was she going to her friend's house, or was she going to the store to help on her chores? I didn't give a damn.
'It's all plastered everywhere in the school that kids shouldn't be outside by themselves. How careless of her, and she deserves it - it's all her fault.'
With the same selfish quibbling...I assaulted her.
She realized that she was being attacked as I shot several rounds into her back. It's obvious that a person would turn around and see if one was being attacked from the behind.
I was used to showering my victims with pellets so I continued to fire rounds at her even as she turned her head towards me.
A normal kid would run away screaming "ouch ouch!"
But her reaction was a first for me....
She was screaming at the top of her lungs, rolling on the ground back and forth as she covered one of her eyes...
That was when it hit me.
It struck her in the eye.
Until that exact moment, I did not for once think what would happen if these BB pellets strikes a person into their eyes. It easily penetrates a thick cardboard box...
In any case, the way she was hurting was not what I had expected. It was right then and there I finally realized that what I have been doing a horrific thing.
The little girl saw me, so I couldn't take her to the hospital as that would jeopardize me. I couldn't do anything....so I left the crying girl all by herself and ran away from the scene.
'Was the girl okay, I hope she didn't go blind...'
I didn't have the appetite to eat dinner as all these thoughts went through my head.
At home, I took a household medical book from the bookcase and read through how the eye functions. I read it to try to ease myself to what extent an injury to the eye will not cause permanent blindness. It was a vain act obviously as even if the little girl did not lose her sight, it was still a very brutal assault.
...That night, I couldn't sleep as I broke a high fever. The first one to hand down my punishment was not my parents, the school, or the police. ...It was my own body.
Early next morning....I woke my parents who were still in bed and confessed everything. My parents were at first in shock in disbelief, but once they placed the pieces together of my sudden interest in model guns and rebellious attitude, they realized the matter immediately.
My mom began to cry and my dad beat the shit out of me.
We didn't wait for dawn to break. I went with my parents to the nearest police station...and turned myself in."