He has always believed his father to be the one he despises most in this world. From his earliest days, he was ensnared in the fervor of Nichiren-Shoshu, a faith his father clung to with unyielding devotion. Their home was a fragile vessel, forever adrift in a sea of discord. Before every meal, he was compelled to kneel, hands clasped before his chest, and chant sutras for an hour, his father's stern gaze a constant sentinel. Any falter in his posture was met with a harsh strike. Fun was a distant shore, unreachable, for before any joy could be savored, the temple's shadow loomed, demanding devotion. Thus, he ceased to yearn for happiness, retreating into a realm devoid of delight.