Chapter 56: You Won’t Remember Unless It Hurts
The other day, I believe I talked about the concept of “carrot and stick” when it came to motivating the children at the orphanage.
As a general rule, that principle truly does form the foundation of how people are moved to action.
Every now and then, however, exceptions exist.
For example—
Even when a problem far more severe than the mere stick of failing credits is looming directly in front of them, some people still choose immediate comfort.
They indulge themselves.
Spoil themselves.
And continue spoiling themselves.
Such people, overloaded with metaphorical sugar, undeniably exist.
I’ve always felt that the “they could do it if they tried” type of person often falls into this category.
With only a little imagination, they should be able to picture the suffering that awaits them in the future.
Yet somehow, they can never transform that image into something that feels real.
They understand, intellectually, that they’ll suffer later.
Yet they search desperately for reasons not to act now.
They hesitate.
They procrastinate.
They remain motionless.
And before they know it, tomorrow has arrived.
In the end, what finally lights a fire beneath people like that’s often an external force beyond human control.
Time.
Or the undeniable reality of failure when it’s thrust directly into their faces.
Viewed from that perspective, the fact that Kuwajima had come to us begging for help wasn’t the worst-case scenario.
After all, her actions were still being driven by the pressure of approaching deadlines.
That meant there was hope.
Not the worst-case scenario.
But judging from her behavior, she still didn’t seem to fully understand just how close she stood to the edge of the cliff.
Which led me to a single conclusion.
“That’s precisely why Spartan training is necessary.”
“…Ehehe.”
“Don’t laugh, Kuwajima. Do I look like someone who wants you to laugh right now?”
“…Yessir.”
Our current location was one corner of the city’s public library.
More specifically, one of the study rooms made available to students and exam candidates.
Food and drinks were prohibited inside, but quiet conversation was allowed, making it ideal for group study sessions.
And after reviewing the results of the diagnostic quiz I had prepared personally, I found myself analyzing Kuwajima with utmost seriousness.
Her logical thinking wasn’t bad.
She could perform calculations.
As expected of someone who had managed to enter university.
Even rotten wood had once been a tree.
However—
Her knowledge base was catastrophically lacking.
There was no accumulation.
No foundation.
Vocabulary, formulas, problem-solving patterns—
None of it had properly settled into her head.
She possessed the ability to solve problems.
She simply didn’t know how to solve them.
A troublesome situation.
But not the worst possible one.
“Right now, Kuwajima, you have the ability to reach the answer, but you don’t know the names of the tools needed to get there, nor how to use them. If we compare it to English, it’s like understanding grammar perfectly while having almost no vocabulary.”
“And that means…?”
“If we were taking the orthodox approach, the optimal solution would be to spend time filling those gaps in knowledge.”
“Um… we don’t have time, though?”
“I know.”
That was exactly the problem.
Problems solvable through time were troublesome because they required time.
Time couldn’t be manufactured.
Of all things in the world, time alone was beyond manipulation.
…Or was it?
“Taketsuru. Can I ask you something?”
“Hm?”
“Can you use magic to stop time? Or maybe slow it down? Kuwajima doesn’t have nearly enough time for the conventional approach.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I had asked with only the tiniest shred of hope.
Taketsuru looked at me as though I had suffered brain damage.
He slipped a pen between the pages of his heavily worn textbook and sighed.
“Listen. Magic isn’t some convenient fantasy superpower. This isn’t that kind of story. The best I can do is something like a soundproofing spell that keeps you idiots from bothering people in the neighboring study rooms.”
I froze.
Then slowly looked up.
“Taketsuru.”
“Huh?”
“Why have you been keeping such an incredibly useful spell secret until now?”
“…What?”
If there was magic that would let people scream without consequences, he should have mentioned that sooner.
Upon further questioning, it turned out the spell wasn’t quite as versatile as it sounded.
It only worked in enclosed spaces and came with several restrictions.
But none of that mattered.
The greatest obstacle to implementing my Spartan education plan had always been one thing:
What to do about Kuwajima’s screams.
I had even considered dragging her outside whenever that became necessary, but that would have wasted precious study time.
Now the problem appeared solved.
I turned toward her.
“Rejoice, Kuwajima. Your special curriculum has been completed.”
“There’s literally nobody who could hear that conversation and feel happy.”
Why not?
I was about to teach her.
What possible reason did she have to be afraid?
“Meiko. If Kuwajima tries to escape, stop her. Don’t let her get away under any circumstances.”
“Roger that~”
“Taketsuru, use the soundproofing spell. If you need compensation, I’ll pay you later.”
“Sure, whatever.”
“The fact that this conversation keeps moving forward without my consent is honestly terrifying.”
Meiko casually raised a hand.
Taketsuru grumbled but cooperated.
Most likely because he wanted to focus on his own studies and avoid involving himself in this mess any more than necessary.
At this point, the only person still objecting was Kuwajima.
“So then, Gouto-kun. What’s the actual plan?”
Meiko asked.
Kuwajima stared at me as well.
I considered my wording.
But no matter how gently I phrased it, Kuwajima would resist.
So I chose the shortest possible explanation.
“There’s a saying.”
I paused dramatically.
“‘If it doesn’t hurt, you won’t remember it.’”
“I DON’T WANT IT TO HUUUUURT!”
Quiet down, Kuwajima.
Even if you scream, nobody can hear you now.
And thus—
Spartan education began.
The moment Kuwajima attempted to flee, Meiko restrained her.
Then came the knowledge.
Endless knowledge.
We stuffed facts into her brain.
Then more facts.
And even more after that.
Once she was overflowing, we checked whether any of it had actually remained inside.
There was no passing score.
No minimum requirement.
If she got even one answer wrong—
She would experience pain.
“Twenty points out of one hundred.”
I shook my head solemnly.
“I’m disappointed, Kuwajima. I had such high hopes for your fighting spirit. Meiko. Do it.”
“My own studying is getting absolutely nowhere, you know~”
Despite her complaints, Meiko was surprisingly enthusiastic as she prepared the instrument.
The perfect tool for inflicting suffering upon Kuwajima alone.
“N-No… please don’t… don’t hurt me…!”
“Hehehe. You can protest all you want, Tae-chan. But once this happens, you can’t endure it, can you?”
“M-Meiko-san! You’re not supposed to be this kind of person!”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m Gouto-kun’s childhood friend.”
Hold on.
Was she trying to pin this entire operation on me?
And then, as though documenting evidence of bullying for posterity, Meiko switched her smartphone into recording mode.
Before the utterly exhausted Kuwajima—
She wrapped a black bandage around her arm.
“Now then, Kuwajima. Until you’ve memorized every mistake, your disgraceful behavior shall be recorded for posterity.”
“Nuahah! What foul purpose hast thou in capturing my sacred form within thy Crystal of Truth!? Depending upon the terms of this contract, I, the great Goetheschwarz Sanzen Sanbyaku Sanjuuin, shall unleash the entirety of my power and condemn thy future unto endless darkness!”
“Meiko.”
“In Kumamoto dialect, that means: ‘What are you planning to do with that video?! If you’re going to use it for criminal purposes, I won’t hesitate to sue you!’”
Honestly.
How exactly could footage of a girl wrapped in black bandages succumbing to chuunibyou delusions be used for criminal purposes?
If anything, I wanted someone to explain that to me.
Ignoring the question, I gave Kuwajima a thorough explanation.
“Kuwajima. Every time you get an answer wrong, another video gets added.”
I smiled.
“It’ll keep growing. Relentlessly.”
Her face paled.
“And if you fail a class—”
I pointed directly at her.
“I’ll distribute those videos to the university. Your family. Your old middle school. Your old high school.”
“!?”
“And I swear here and now that I’ll use every resource available to the Kirishiro Group to send copies to whatever company hires you in the future.”
“!!!”
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Kuwajima?”
“Y-You fiend! Such villainy can’t be permitted! To carve eternal shame upon the stairway of my everlasting existence—have you no fear of the gods!? Could it be that thou art the wicked incarnation of a fallen angel cast from the heavens themselves!?”
Her voice was loud and defiant.
Her eyes, however, were already shimmering with tears.
Truly.
I had no idea what she was saying.
“Meiko.”
“She says: ‘How’s any of that legal!? Are you going to take responsibility for my life!? Kirishiro-kun, are you literally the devil!?’”
“I see.”
I nodded.
“Well, setting aside responsibility for your life as a whole, if you fail your credits, I fully intend to take responsibility.”
“Huh?”
Kuwajima blinked.
I remained completely serious.
“I told you from the beginning.”
My voice left no room for doubt.
“You aren’t going to fail. You’ll earn those credits. And if, by some impossible chance, I fail to keep my word—”
I pointed to myself.
“I’ll take responsibility and repeat the year alongside you.”
The room fell silent.
“You and I’ll sink or swim together.”
“…Eh?”
Kuwajima stared blankly.
“R-Really?”
“Yeah.”
For some reason, a strange expression appeared on her face.
Hey.
Why are you suddenly making a face that says, ‘Well… if it’s with him, maybe repeating a year wouldn’t be so bad?’
Were you really that excited about finding a fellow repeat student?
Before I could investigate further, Meiko firmly grabbed Kuwajima’s shoulder.
“Tae-chan.”
Her smile was bright.
“Let’s all move up to the next year together, okay?”
“Yesh.”
Honestly.
With friends willing to support her this passionately, Kuwajima was luckier than she realized.
Still, there wasn’t time to waste.
I clapped my hands.
“Therefore, understand this. The process will hurt you, but I’ll suffer alongside you if things go wrong. So forgive me, Kuwajima.”
I met her eyes directly.
“And because of that—Study like your life depends on it. I believe in you.”
“Hah!”
Goetheschwarz Sanzen Sanbyaku Sanjuuin threw back her head dramatically.
“Know you not who stands before thee!? Defeat doesn’t exist for one such as I! Regret thy foolish underestimation and despair! Kuhahahaha!”
Well.
I didn’t particularly care who she was.
But her entire declaration had been faithfully recorded on video.
That was something she probably shouldn’t forget.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Hm?”
“Your new university friends will receive those videos one clip at a time every hour whenever you get a question wrong.”
I smiled pleasantly.
“One second of footage per mistake.”
“!?!? THAT WASN’T PART OF THE DEAL!”
“It absolutely was.”
I had already explained it.
If it doesn’t hurt, you won’t remember.
And pain, after all—
Works best when it’s fresh.
Meanwhile, throughout all of this, Taketsuru completely ignored us and continued studying as though none of it was happening.
The concentration of a man who had survived a battlefield was truly something else.
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I’ve seen a lot of study groups over the years.
But seriously.
What in the world is this study group?
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