In my own case, as a result of Okusan's care, the clouds hanging over my spirit had gradually cleared. I was aware of what had transpired, and now I sought the same effect for K. Having known K for many years, I knew that we were not of the same mettle. However, my own nerves had been soothed in this household, and I reasoned the place should work its same magic on K as well.
K was a man of greater resolve than myself. He studied twice as hard as I did, and he was blessed with a finer mind than my own. Our areas of study had diverged, but during our time together, in middle and high school, K was always the top student in the class. It was clear to me that I would never be his equal. However, in this time when I worked so to bring him into my home, I did believe myself the more sensible of us two. From my perspective, it seemed that K had lost sight of the difference between privation and perseverance. I write this especially for your sake, so please take note. Our faculties, whether those of the body or those of the mind, thrive or perish under external stimuli. In either case, it goes without saying that stimuli must increase over time. If one isn't careful, one can unwittingly, and unbeknownst even to those close by, steer oneself into great peril. Physicians will tell you there is nothing so indolent as the human stomach. Feed it only with gruel, they say, and it'll soon enough be incapable of anything solid. They advocate a diverse diet, but I think there's more to this than simply keeping in practice. It has to be the case, I also believe, that a gradual increase in stimuli be accompanied by a gradual increase in digestive resilience. Think of the consequences of the converse, if the stomach's faculty grew weaker with time, and I think you'll see my point. K was a greater man than myself, but he'd failed to grasp this truth. He seemed intent on living with hardship and making it his friend. He was convinced that through the virtues of repeated privation, he could one day embrace privation as his own.