Chapter 3 - Forgotten Memoirs

Dear Hikari,
I believe this to be my final testament. I fear the cancer I have procured has left me in a precarious mindset. For the past moths now, I have been in search of the line. The line that we set up when we grow, the line that another must never cross. In lay man's terms, our limit. Throughout my travels, I have come across many people of all races, all colors, all genders, all different. It is always interesting to test and probe their limits. Everyone has their own different line. After which one crosses, they lose all control. It is my regret to hereby withdraw any involvement with the inquiry. I cannot live with myself if I continued this.

Very few have stuck in my mind over the years. I've come across many people. One particular case is that of a Hisato Baembwa. He is of asian/African decent. 'blackenese' I believe was the racial slur. He stood at about 5'8" with a lean build. He was proficient in the martial arts, even though he hardly ever uses it. For one who's grown up to be unable to get into college, he is surprisingly laid back. For the seven months I observed him, he has only once to lose his temper. That was when his mother was insulted.
From what I gather, his mother died when he was only six, but even then, Hisato still think fondly of those days when she was here. For this man, crossing his line isn't a matter of annoyance or skill, but more about how low you're willing to go to make him cross the line.

Another case was a Berain Meoena from Gratsburg, Holland. She has a tall build, very muscular, even a body builder would have trouble with her, and a very short fuse. She had only a few problems. Most involving self image. She never really cared about much other than her reputation. Such a reckless attitude. All you had to do was say that she was getting a little weak, and she'd punch you over the moon. Her line was purely superficial, and easy to get across. In all angles, a simple case.

My last case was of a man I knew very well. His name is Keitaro Urashima. You may have heard of him. The male manager of an all girls dorm in Hinata. Anyway, if it's any indication, it took me over one and a half years to find his line. A young man like this often sinks through the cracks unnoticed, but for me he was a beachball amidst the sands of time. I hv often visited his home, and, even by my standards, Keitaro Urashima goes through so many different levels of abuse every hour than most people go through their whole lives.
Every second, he was tripping onto someone, or accidentally stumbling into the hotsprings. And everytime, he would get yelled at and beaten. It was obvious to anyone that it was all accidents, sometimes it was even someone else's fault entirely. But he never complained or anything. I'm sure he could have, considering that he's the heir to the Hinata Inn, as his aunt Haruka has told me, but he just put on that smile. Everytime he put it on, it was little more fake, everytime, it was a little more forced. I guess I'm the only one that noticed.
I've tested and probed every possible thing about him. I've threatened the one he cares about most Naru, I've put him down in subtle ways, I've insulted him indirecty. Yet I can't get him to crack. Though what a shown it would be if he did finally crack. Unbeknownst to him, I know about his little training he received as a child. In fact, he could take Motoko down with his eyes closed and a hand behind his back. I guess in some sense I feel for him. He has gone his whole life trying to fulfill a promise only to fail once, twice and now three times. And to make things worse are the girls, who constantly mistreat him. I therefore withdraw any involvement within the Urashima case. I am sorry, but my hands are tied and I would like to die with a clean conscience. My I.D will be on your des Monday.

Saying Goodbye

Seta-San