A Wild Priest Appears

Araya and Rain clothes swap.

I never told anyone this but I love Araya so much because she happens to look exactly like my protagonist Rain from another series I made. I wrote that story to deal with my incest traumas and stuff, so I never published anything about it because some people might end up jorking off to it or complained that I wrote something so controversial.

So yea. I find it hard to say anything about Canto 9 even after I played it because all the words kept being lodged in my throat. To describe what happened to Araya, I’d have to talk about what happened to me and Rain and that’s a difficult pill to swallow. So I still kept everything in the drafts.

To summarise I want to tell you about how for Rain’s story, it’s also three generations worth of abuse. His grandfather was like Shiomi Yoru and Valencina, constantly abusing his dad verbally and physically. His mom left with his brother, like how Ryōshū left the house. What he’s left with is a father like Rien, and from there becomes parent and child who does not have any normal boundaries to say the least. It’s slowly boiling pot, so the frog did not jump out.

When I saw Araya’s sprites, it all hit me like a truck. She was happy as a child, like Rain before anything started. Then she stopped smiling when she entered school, mirroring when the abuse began for Rain. It’s making my head spin a bit. She stopped smiling but her eyes are still the same as before, like Rain still has love for his dad so he did not question what was happening as strange. He stopped smiling as much, because he was carrying so much responsibility to look after his dad. It’s not something that should be given to a child.

When he became a college student, that was the first time he stayed out of his house permanently, so many things changed, while his demeanour mostly stayed the same. Still looking vigilant and caring as always. It really wasn’t until he had his own families, all the way into late adulthood that he realises it wasn’t right. Because he felt nothing of the sort for his own son. What happened to him was not within boundaries. And yet, he just bottled it up, because if he had poured it out, it would come raining down on him.

That’s the part that guts me the most to write, because most people would’ve done the same. It takes someone else to stand up for them before they could confront the abuse they endured. And even then, what’s happened already happened and you could only heal the scars without being able to erase it.