From our middle school days, K would stump me with difficult questions on religion or philosophy. It may be he was influenced by his father, or it may have been the rare air of the house into which he was born, a temple with its distinctive structures. At any rate, in comparison to your average priest, K came across as far more priest-like. K's adoptive family sent him to Tōkyō to learn medicine. K though, strong-willed in his thinking, came to Tōkyō resolved to not study medicine. Wasn't that the same thing, I asked him reprovingly, as defrauding his adoptive parents. He boldly affirmed that it was. It was a small price to pay, he said, for the sake of "the way." I don't think he really knew what he meant when he talked of "the way." I certainly can't say that I did. However, to us in our youth, these nebulous words rang sacred. Understanding aside, we proceeded forward in high-minded fervor, oblivious to any ignoble side to our actions. I thus came to support K in this views. I don't know how much difference my support made. Determined as he was, it's hard to imagine I could have dissuaded him through counterargument or objection. In encouraging him, though, I was fully aware, even in my youth, that I was taking a stake should things go awry. Even if I wasn't prepared for it at the time, it's always been clear to me in retrospect that my avid support implied a willingness to bear some share of the consequences.