7 What can a Human Achieve

The morning light streamed through the windows of the Shiba residence, casting a soft glow over the study where Tatsuya sat, his eyes focused and mind sharp. A year had passed since he first began his formal education under the tutelage of Mr. Sato, a man whose stern face and cold eyes belied his sadistic pleasure in the failures of his students.

 ........

Tatsuya, sitting in the sunlit study, couldn't help but reflect on his journey from a crawling infant to the child he was today. Those early days, filled with innocent wonder, felt like another lifetime. He remembered the exhilaration of his first steps, a brief moment of childlike joy that was soon eclipsed by the stringent demands of Mr. Sato's lessons. How quickly the world had revealed its true colors to him.

In those days, every new discovery was a marvel, each experience an adventure. But as Mr. Sato's relentless training commenced, the world began to narrow, confined to the walls of the study and the rigid structure of the lessons. Yet, despite the rigidity of his days, Tatsuya's mind remained a boundless expanse, teeming with memories and knowledge from a past life that refused to be constrained.

Now, facing Mr. Sato's latest challenge, Tatsuya couldn't suppress a wry smile. "Master Hiragana in a day? Well, why not add solving world peace by dinner?" he thought with a touch of optimistic sarcasm. He knew Mr. Sato expected him to fail, probably relished the thought of it. But Tatsuya was not one to bow to the whims of fate or the expectations of a sadistic tutor.

His memories from a past life were a double-edged sword, granting him wisdom beyond his years but also an awareness of the limitations of his young body. Yet, he found a strange solace in these challenges. 

As he prepared to tackle the task, Tatsuya mused on the irony of it all. In his previous life, he had casually brushed aside the potential of memory techniques, deeming them intriguing but not worth the effort. Now, they were his secret weapon, a tool that allowed him to navigate the complex demands of his current life. "Oh, the things we take for granted," he thought, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

 ....

 Tatsuya no..... The nameless back in a simpler time in his previous life, went to a modest public library nestled in the heart of a middle-class neighborhood. It was a place far removed from the grandeur of grand libraries, yet it held its own charm with shelves packed with well-thumbed books and the quiet murmur of avid readers. The library was a haven for Tatsuya, a young man fascinated by the breadth of knowledge that books offered.

On one particular afternoon, the warm sunlight streaming through the windows, Tatsuya found himself in the psychology section, his curiosity piqued by a book on memory enhancement techniques. The book, slightly frayed at the edges, spoke of the ancient technique of the Memory Palace, a method once used by Greek orators to remember lengthy orations.

Intrigued by the concept, Tatsuya sat at a wooden table, the book open in front of him. He read about visualizing a familiar space and populating it with vivid, often bizarre images, each serving as a mnemonic device. The idea was fascinating, a stark contrast to the rote memorization methods he was accustomed to.

In a flight of fancy, he imagined his own small, cozy apartment, transforming each room into a mental storage space. The cramped living room became a gallery, with each piece of furniture anchoring a historical fact. The modest kitchen, where he often prepared simple meals, turned into a laboratory of sorts, with imaginary potions and experiments representing various scientific theories.

Despite his initial enthusiasm, as the library's closing announcement echoed through the halls, Tatsuya reluctantly shut the book. The method, while intriguing, seemed too elaborate, too fanciful for his practical, no-nonsense approach to learning. "Perhaps some other day," he mused, setting the book back on the shelf, unaware that this fleeting interest would become a cornerstone of his future existence.

In the quiet study of the Shiba residence, Tatsuya stood surrounded by a daunting array of books on Hiragana. He exhaled slowly, a mixture of determination and self-reproach evident in his demeanor. Opening the first book, he mentally braced himself, fully committed to embracing the Memory Palace technique that he had once so casually dismissed.

As he began to read, Tatsuya couldn't help but berate himself for his past laziness. "How could I have been so shortsighted?" he thought angrily. "If only I had realized the potential of this technique earlier, the advantages it would have afforded me." His mind was ablaze with frustration, reflecting on the wasted opportunities his previous life's complacency had cost him.

With each Hiragana character, Tatsuya meticulously constructed vivid, imaginative scenes in his mental palace. '' (a) sprouted into an apple tree with robust branches, its roots firmly planted in the foyer. '' (i) materialized as a shimmering icicle, delicately suspended from the grand chandelier in the hallway. Each character was no longer just a symbol but a part of an elaborate and fantastical world he was creating in his mind.

The more he read, the more elaborate and intricate his memory palace became. The dining room transformed into a verdant forest, each leaf representing a different character. The bedroom was a starry sky, where constellations formed patterns of Hiragana. Every corner of the palace was imbued with a surreal quality, making each character unforgettable.

To his amazement, Tatsuya found that recalling each character was almost instinctual. The images were so vivid, so unique, that they leaped forth from his memory with little effort. "Is this really the power of the human mind?" he wondered, a sense of awe mixing with his earlier frustration. "Why did I ever doubt the capacity of my own intellect?"

But even as he marveled at his newfound ability, a part of him was furious at his past self. "I could have been doing this all along," he chastised himself internally. "I could have been leagues ahead." His mind was a whirlwind of regret and resolve, fueled by the realization of what he could achieve when he truly applied himself.

 ......

In the dimly lit corners of the study, Mr. Sato watched Tatsuya with a cold, calculating gaze. His mission, as mandated by the Yotsuba, was clear: to forge Tatsuya into an obedient tool, a compliant instrument under their control. As such, his methods were unrelentingly harsh, designed to break the child's spirit and mold him into submission.

Tatsuya, however, presented an unforeseen challenge. With each day, it became increasingly apparent to Mr. Sato that this child was not like the others he had broken before. Tatsuya's ability to grasp complex concepts and complete daunting tasks with unwavering resolve was unsettling. No tears, no signs of frustration or despair – behaviors Mr. Sato had expertly induced in countless students – ever surfaced in Tatsuya. Instead, there was an unnerving calm, a sense of maturity that belied his tender age.

"This isn't right," Mr. Sato muttered, his eyes fixed on Tatsuya's untroubled expression. "No child should be able to withstand this much pressure. It's abnormal." The more he observed Tatsuya, the more he felt a growing sense of unease. The child was not merely a prodigy; he seemed almost otherworldly, his demeanor and intellect far beyond child norms.

The study room was silent except for the sound of Tatsuya's calm breathing as he worked through another of Mr. Sato's tasks. Mr. Sato, standing at the back of the room, watched him with a mix of resentment and intrigue. The boy was proving to be an enigma, a challenge to every teaching principle he had ever held.

"Focus, Tatsuya," Mr. Sato called out, his voice sharp. "I expect nothing less than perfection."

Tatsuya didn't flinch at the harsh tone. He simply nodded, continuing his work with a steadiness that belied his years. Mr. Sato's brow furrowed as he observed the child's unwavering concentration. It was unnatural, almost robotic.

Mr. Sato paced back and forth, his frustration mounting. Each successful completion of a task by Tatsuya felt like a personal insult, a mockery of his authority. "He's just a child," Mr. Sato muttered under his breath, "How can he be so... unaffected?"

As Tatsuya finished and looked up, expecting another task, Mr. Sato approached the desk, his expression hard. "Well done, Tatsuya. But don't get too comfortable. The next task will not be so easy."

Tatsuya met Mr. Sato's gaze, his eyes calm and unyielding. "I am ready for whatever challenge you have for me, Mr. Sato," he replied, his voice steady.

Mr. Sato's hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was not how it was supposed to be. Students were meant to break under pressure, to falter and show their weaknesses. But Tatsuya, with his implacable resolve, was defying all norms.

"You think you can handle anything, don't you?" Mr. Sato snapped, leaning in closer. "We'll see about that."

Tatsuya simply nodded, a faint hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Driven by a blend of obsession and a deepening fear of failure, Mr. Sato doubled down on his efforts. He devised tasks of increasing impossibility, seeking to push Tatsuya to his limits, to find that breaking point which every child surely had. Yet, as Tatsuya continued to rise above each challenge, including mastering Hiragana in a single day, Mr. Sato felt the first seeds of doubt take root.

Staring at Tatsuya, who remained composed and undeterred, Mr. Sato felt a chilling realization dawning on him. "What are you, Tatsuya Shiba?" he whispered, a twinge of fear mingling with his determination. "What lies beneath that serene facade?" In his quest to break Tatsuya's spirit, Mr. Sato began to wonder if he had instead unleashed something far beyond his control.

 .........

Today, Mr. Sato had set forth a challenge that he believed would finally crush the young prodigy's spirit. "Tatsuya," he said with a thinly veiled sneer, "by the end of today, I expect you to read and write basic Hiragana. All of it." His voice carried a note of triumph, anticipating the impossible nature of the task for a child so young.

Tatsuya, however, merely nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. He recognized the ploy for what it was - another attempt to belittle him. But Tatsuya was not like other children his age. His memory, even more potent in this life than in his previous, was his secret weapon.

As Mr. Sato left the room, confident in his impending victory, Tatsuya closed his eyes and began to construct his mnemonic palace. He had always been fascinated by memory techniques in his past life but had never fully committed to mastering them. Now, he cursed his past self for the laziness.

He visualized a vast library, each book and shelf a repository for the Hiragana characters he needed to memorize. Using the PAO method, he assigned a unique image to every number from 0 to 999, creating a vivid, interconnected web of information in his mind. Person, action, and object - these images danced in his mind's eye, each one linking to a Hiragana character.

As the hours ticked by, Tatsuya immersed himself in this inner world, effortlessly cataloging the characters. His ability to transform and retain information was near limitless, barring one exception - body movements. But even this limitation he had overcome in his lucid dreams, where he practiced and perfected physical actions with the same precision as his mental exercises.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm glow into the study when Mr. Sato returned. He entered with a smug expression, confident in the impending failure he was about to witness. Tatsuya, sitting at the desk with an array of Hiragana books spread around him, looked up calmly.

"Ah, Tatsuya, I trust you've come to realize the futility of today's task?" Mr. Sato said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Tatsuya merely nodded in response, a serene expression on his face. He picked up a passage written in Hiragana, the characters seeming to dance before his eyes. He cleared his throat and began to read aloud, his voice steady and clear, each syllable pronounced with precision.

As Tatsuya's voice filled the room, reciting the passage flawlessly, Mr. Sato's smug grin began to waver. The boy's confidence, his flawless execution, it was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Tatsuya finished reading and set the paper down. Without missing a beat, he reached for a brush, dipped it in ink, and began to write. His hand moved with a grace and steadiness that belied his young age, each stroke of the brush forming perfect Hiragana characters.

Mr. Sato, now standing beside Tatsuya, watched in stunned silence. The characters appeared on the paper as if by magic, each one a testament to the boy's extraordinary capabilities.

"This... This can't be," Mr. Sato muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tatsuya finished writing and set the brush down, looking up at Mr. Sato with a slight smile. "Is there anything else, Mr. Sato?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge.

Mr. Sato stepped back, his smugness now replaced by disbelief. "No, that will be all for today, Tatsuya," he stammered, quickly turning to leave the room.

As the door closed behind Mr. Sato, Tatsuya's smile broadened slightly. It wasn't a smile of arrogance, but one of quiet triumph. He had not only met the challenge but had done so with a grace that even he hadn't fully anticipated.

Looking out the window, Tatsuya allowed himself a moment of reflection. He was young, yes, but his mind was a boundless frontier, unshackled by the limitations others tried to impose on him.