Phantom Pain

"Papa! Papa!" Hikari turns around and calls out to me with the same laughter I've always remembered as she runs further and further from me in this misty dream. I run in synchrony, yet as I watch her grow bigger and stronger in your travels, I only grow older and weaker, unable to keep pace. The light she shines is so bright... So bright...

The overwhelming rays of the Sun hit my eyelids as I woke up to Mr. Blues' voice, surprising us with his morning return. "Rise and shine!"

I rub my eyes and sit upright in the hotel bed, turning to the open curtains as the numacist greets me with a wide grin. "Good morning, Mr. Ishiguro! It's a wonderful day out today. Just perfect for some curse dispelling, isn't it?"

Hayato turns to his coach, grumbling as he rubs his eyes. "Is it? I didn't know weather factored into dispelling curses."

Mr. Blues maintains his smile as he turns to clear up his words to his student. "While the weather can matter in the dispelling of a curse, a sunny day doesn't actually help with dispelling a curse! A good, sunny day, however, is simply a good day to do anything in general!"

I get dressed as my palms begin to sweat again. This is it. After all these years... After all this time and effort... This is the last obstacle standing between Hikari and me. Once we dispel this curse, I'll finally be able to reach out and hold her hand again. Even if the entire world's been warped into this strange dystopia... Even if she's lived longer on the surface of this Earth than I have... It's bittersweet, but there is some good that came of it all in the end. There is some light at the end of the tunnel.

"Whenever you're ready to proceed, Mr. Ishiguro, please take a seat right here." Mr. Blues directs me to a sizeable open area in the hotel room.

After taking a quick moment to mentally prepare for this long-awaited moment, I sit down where the ritualist had designated for me. "I think that your negligence to stop the last wisp may have been a blessing in disguise after all. If it wasn't for that wisp, I likely would have perished forty-seven years ago, and I never would've had this opportunity here today."

"I suppose so..." Mr. Blues begins setting up the ritual to dispel the curse right in the middle of the hotel room as he goes over the specifics of the ritual and the curse with me. “The DARWIN wisp didn’t leave this curse on you. It only made you vulnerable to the manifestation of this curse.” He draws directly onto the hotel room’s carpets with chalk and lights candles that somehow don’t seem to be setting off the smoke detectors. “That means you were carrying too much negative numa when you were exposed to the wisp, and it manifested as the curse afflicting you now."

He backs off from the ritual circle, seemingly to have completed it. “The nature of the negative numa that manifested as the curse, however… You would know that better than me. Seeing as the curse makes you invisible and incorporeal, my first guess would be that you feel invisible and small as a person, but the truth is for you to find out and confront. What this ritual will do is it’ll transform the curse into a unique phantom, and once you defeat the phantom, you’ll be entirely rid of the curse. Any questions?”

Hayato turns to his coach. “Wait, but Mr. Ishiguro isn’t a numacist. He has never fought a phantom before. Are you sure this is safe?”

Mr. Blues takes out a bell, taking another step back. “Dispelling a curse is never safe. I’m sure Mr. Ishiguro will be fine, and if it goes south, I’ll step in to intervene.”

I take a deep breath and sigh, still finding it difficult to believe that I’ll be fighting a literal ghost of my own mind just to reunite with Hikari. “So couldn’t you just fight the phantom for me then?”

The numacist shakes his head. “It’s a unique phantom spawned from your own negative numa. I can fight and defeat it, sure, but unless you overcome it yourself, the curse won’t go away.”

“I see.” I have a bad feeling about how this will go already. “Do you have any advice for me when it comes to fighting a phantom?”

Mr. Blues seems to think for a moment before answering. “I doubt you possess enough numa to directly affect it the way you are, so you’re going to need to be actively using your HBA if you want your strikes to connect. Do note that as your enemy is a phantom, it will bypass the defensive utility your HBA would otherwise offer you against material foes. Lastly…” He deliberates for another moment before shrugging. “Keep your thumb outside of your fist when you throw a punch. Any other questions for me before I proceed with the ritual?”

“Yeah, just one more thing.” I turn to the mystic man, wondering if he might have an answer to my revelations yesterday. “How do you suppose one rebels against nothingness?”

The man laughs in response to my question. “I don’t know… I’m no philosopher, but if you like the work of Camus, perhaps one could rebel against the absurdity of nothingness itself?”

“I see… I suppose that is an answer.” I look down, not quite satisfied with that answer.

“Are you ready now, Mr. Ishiguro?” He says, holding me the bell as Hayato looks on anxiously.

I nod and close my eyes, and Mr. Blues rings the bell three times, each somehow more resounding than the last as I feel an oppressive force lift from my body. When I open my eyes again, I see a distorted mirror image of myself standing before me, though it stands larger than me in every dimension and wears a permanent frown on its face. I begin counting down my Restless Spirit, springing from my feet to throw a jab at the phantom.

The phantom stands perfectly still until I reach within centimeters of it, and it moves with shocking speed, grabbing onto my arm and tossing me over its shoulders and into the air. Unable to maneuver while airborne, I struggle to dodge as the phantom pummels me with a flurry of punches and kicks, flinging me through the hotel room door into the corridor outside. By the time I try to push myself off the ground, it has already chased me into the corridor and hovers over me, planting its arm solidly into my chest as my eyes fall heavier and heavier.

My eyes jolt open as I wake up in my futon in the one-room apartment where it had all started so long ago. Hikari peers over me, looking down directly into my eyes. "Are you feeling better, Papa?"

"Ah, yeah... Thanks..." What am I saying? What am I experiencing?

She runs off to the kitchen sink, filling up a glass of water and bringing it back to me as I sit upright. I remember the mold in that corner. I remember this strange oily smell that I was never able to identify too. I can hear the cicadas chirp outside as the summer sun squeezes itself into the window between the tightly packed apartment buildings.

I take the glass of water and drink from it as roaches fill my mouth instead. I throw the glass into the wall and scream, but the roaches don't stop as they quickly swarm to cover my entire body. With my vision entirely obstructed, I roll around on the ground to shake off the roaches as feel myself roll off an edge and begin to plummet.

My falling comes to a sudden stop as I land in a seat amongst a crowded audience. With the lights already dimmed, the curtains begin to lift as the spotlight shines down, and the phantom stands on the stage staring into my soul. The audience sitting around me all slowly rotate their head to face directly to me no matter how impossible the head turn is, each of them uncannily wearing the pouting face of Hikari. I try to stand up only to realize that my hands and legs have been restrained to a chair much like it was back in Tokyo.

"Papa! Papa!" The creatures crawl robotically to me, their limbs skittering across the seats like spiders. Their hands grab at me, tearing away pieces of my body, each piece transmuting into rust as they separate from me, and the phantom on the stage fly into me with a headbutt, sending me flying for what I could swear to be as many lightyears as the atoms in my body.

A dimensional plane of space itself seems to shatter as I crash into a long corridor, though the floor, ceiling, and walls seem to be the deepest reaches of the infinite cosmos rather than a physical barrier. Wandering around in this ethereal plane, I come across a large, seemingly glass wall, behind it, I see the phantom and little Hikari at Sachi’s Ice. I pound against the glass wall, but it seems to resist me like the HuH-C cubicle that I failed to break through. I look around for other ways to reach the phantom, yet as I turn around, infinitely repeating glass cubicles surround me, each with a different scenario of me and Hikari in it, except I’ve been replaced by the phantom.

Flying over to one of the cubicles, I peer inside as the phantom plays a game of old maid with Hikari, and no matter how I bang my head against the screen, it will not allow me to phase through. Unable to watch any further, I soar down the corridor, looking through each and every cubicle.

The phantom tucks a tired grade-school Hikari into bed after cherry blossom viewing and a festival.

The phantom terribly loses at a fighting game against a smug middle-school Hikari.

The phantom cheers with Hikari as she receives news of her high school admission, watching her leave him for her friends.

The phantom waits for hours after a high-school Hikari finish her first major public debut as she greets an endless line of fans.

The phantom points out the Summer Triangle to a Hikari about to set out further in life.

No matter how fast or how far I soar through these corridors, these echoing, torturous, false memories of what could’ve been never cease.

I see...

The gallery of shackling misconceptions almost seems to spin around me as I realize the true nature of the curse...

Enough…

Enough.

Haven’t I already been through enough!?

I direct my speed into the next scene I come across, slamming my body into it as the cubicle flies out into the cosmos until it can no longer be seen. The corridor of regrets shatters into crystal shards and delusions, frozen in time. I force the true phantom to reveal itself to me once more.

I get it.

I get it already.

I grab a couple of sandwiches out of the picnic basket from the cherry blossom viewing cubicle and fling them at the phantom, its speed dramatically slower than it was before.

I get it already!

I wasn’t there!

I was never there!

The sandwiches glide through the phantom, leaving perfectly cut triangles in its body. As the phantom looks down at the cavities in its body, it turns to flee, but I give chase, choking back tears in my eyes and hopping from lanterns to candied apples to graduation diplomas to ice cream cups, kicking them towards the phantom as I move.

I could tell you an infinite number of stories as to what could’ve been, and yet, each and every one of them ends with ‘but actually, he wasn’t there for that either.’ The delusions I kicked away slam into the fleeing phantom as the momentum of the attacks leave it spinning in place.

I catch up to it, take a nearby microphone, and break it over the phantom’s head as it struggles to get a grip on itself.

I know.

I know, okay!?

The backdrop flashes, shifting from the infinite cosmos to the living room of the Masuda household where the Masudas give their full undivided attention and cheer to a young Hikari. I continue my attacks against the phantom through the room as it looks around, confused and disoriented by the new environment. Grabbing a console game controller, I lodge it into the reeling phantom’s abdomen, leaving it winded before picking up a foldable chair and slamming it into the phantom’s ribs.

I know that I already missed everything!

I know that she’s already moved on and lived her own life!

But I’ve been chasing for so long... I've been reaching out for so long…

The phantom suddenly shrinks itself in my moment of weakness and slips past me before returning to its original size. The backdrop flashes once more into a nursery, an all-grown-up Hikari this time watching over her own sleeping child. I grit my teeth, quickly turning to follow the phantom and throw a deck of playing cards at it.

She’s got a child of her own now, and she has no room in her life for a failure of a father like me!

The fifty-three cards stick themselves into the phantom’s back like daggers as the battlefield warps to the stage of the Olympics opening ceremony where Hikari sings before the whole world, and I reach for the picnic blanket, throwing it over the phantom. Catching up to it once more, I continue to smother the phantom under the blanket as it struggles.

Even without me there, she shines brighter than any star, and she’s persevered against the most impossible of odds to reach where she is now. Her persistence has surpassed any restless spirit that I could possess, coming to her own and overcoming any and all obstacles that a dystopia could possibly have thrown at her. She doesn’t need me there for her anymore. My weaknesses are my own. My regrets are my own too. My fears and doubts are also my own. All this time, I’ve been rebelling against societal forces, and yet I could not overcome the uncertainty in my own heart. Still, I can stride on, empowered by the one last thread I cling onto... But I know!

I know…

The reason for all the pain I've endured... The cause of my restless nights... All the blood I've spilled, and all the trouble I've caused... The light that she has shone with all that she’s accomplished in her life without me there has shown me more than everything I need to see.

I slowly clench my fists as the stage rotates back into the ever-expanding universe, and I reach upwards to grasp at the stars, wielding the entirety of the cosmic skies into my hands. With a torrential cry of tears and catharsis, I bring all the stars in the galaxy down upon the trapped phantom.

I know I’m stuck in the past! I know! I already know far too well… But I’ll be present now, okay? I’ll be here in the present… And I’ll let it go! I’ll let it go…

The weight of the cosmos flattens the phantom as I pant for air and choke on my own tears, waking back up in the corridor of the hotel. Mr. Blues and Hayato stand over me as I slowly push myself up from the ground.

The coach only offers me a bittersweet smile as Hayato tugs and shakes my arm in excitement. “You did it, Mr. Ishiguro… You did it! You can reunite with your daughter now!”

Standing on my own two feet now, I turn to Hayato and shake my head. “No. No, it’s okay. I don’t think that’ll be necessary anymore.”

His expression of excitement quickly melts away into confusion. “What do you mean? B-But you’re finally free now! You’re free from the law! You’re free from your curse!”

I nod at the boy. “Yes, you’re right. I’m free now. Free from my regrets. Free from my past. Free from my unfinished business. I’m here now. I’m present now.”

Hayato slowly releases his grip on my arm as he realizes the true nature of my curse. I walk back into the hotel room and take a seat on the bed to rest and simmer in my current sense of emptiness as Mr. Blues follows behind me. “So, did you find the answer to your question?”

“Yeah… I guess I did in a way.” If dystopia isn’t a destination to be reached, then what does that make utopia?

If dystopia was a process, then utopia surely is a process too. If dystopia is forgetting about a tragedy that occurs a week after it happened, then utopia is the week for which it is remembered. If dystopia is when someone jokes about an ongoing atrocity as a coping mechanism, then utopia is the act of acknowledging such an atrocity and refusing to let it bring you down. If dystopia is the apathy to a failing system, then utopia is the perseverance in such a system.

Without such utopia existing, then I would have never made it as far as I did. Without such utopia existing, then Hikari would have never made it as far as she did. Therefore, utopia must exist. It has never been about rebellion or fighting against an unjust system or the creation of an uncaring universe. It's about living in a utopia of our own creation.

The numacist coach nods. “That's good… So what’s next for The Ghost of Nemuro?”

“I don’t know… I'm still completely vanished from the perspective of the rest of the world with no documents to my name, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to return to the public eye yet.” Approaching the hotel room window, my eyes drift towards the starless morning skies. I turn back to face the coach, shoving my hands into my pocket. “What do the promotion opportunities of a numacist look like?”

Coach Blues tilts his head and gives me an amused grin. “You’re not going to focus on the world of CVAs and herkahumans?”

I shrug, looking at my pale and aged visage in the mirror hanging on the hotel room wall. “I don’t plan on entirely stopping, but don’t you think that building a better world for the future is a job more befitting of the youth anyway?”