Even though it felt like we’d run aground right at the start, other problems still loomed on the horizon.
I glanced at Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san for a moment before turning back to Hashimoto-sensei to state my second concern.
“There are other issues besides money. Although, I do have a rough idea of how to solve this one.”
“I see. And what would that problem be?”
When I told Hashimoto-sensei that a solution was in sight, the dark clouds hanging over Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san seemed to lift slightly.
“It’s the matter of where Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san will learn the fundamentals of martial arts before they even set foot in a dungeon. Going into combat against monsters for the main event without any experience is simply too dangerous. The risk of injury is enormous.”
“When a person faces a situation or a movement they’ve never practiced, they can’t just pull off the right move instinctively,” Yuji added. “At the very least, they need a baseline proficiency in the fundamentals and an understanding of common combat patterns, or things will go south fast.”
Hiiragi-san nodded in agreement. “It’s a classic rookie mistake to freeze up the first time you’re face-to-face with a monster. Your mind stops, your body locks up, and you take a hit before you even realize what happened. Of course, that’s assuming the newcomer went in without any preparation at all.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember seeing someone standing frozen while a monster charged them head-on,” Mika said.
“I remember that too,” Hiiragi-san replied. “Someone nearby managed to kill the monster right away, so they weren't badly hurt, but it was a close call.”
As the five of us—all dungeon veterans—took turns emphasizing the importance of preparation, Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san’s expressions grew stiff again. It might have sounded like an exaggeration to them, but if you didn't train your body to move beforehand, you really would be paralyzed during the main event.
Even we had hesitated for a split second during our first real fight. If it hadn’t been for our prior training, which allowed us to react almost by reflex, things might have turned out differently.
“So, before they actually enter a dungeon, I’m planning to recommend a few dojos or culture schools where they can learn the basics,” I explained. “Fortunately, Yuji has some connections we can use.”
“Since these are Hirose-kun’s connections, I assume they aren't those shady outfits trying to cash in on the dungeon boom?” Hashimoto-sensei asked.
I’d seen it on the news—raids on schools that gave fraudulent or dangerous instruction to amateurs. In the early days of the dungeon boom, these instructional facilities were a total gamble. It was only natural for Hashimoto-sensei to worry about them picking a dud.
“Yes, don’t worry. Once we’ve gauged their aptitudes, we’ll have them go for a trial membership at a place that looks promising. Even within martial arts, different tools suit different people.”
“That’s true,” Hashimoto-sensei said. “You won’t improve if you’re forced to use a weapon you have no talent for. And in a dungeon, finding a weapon that fits you isn’t just about skill—it’s a direct matter of safety, isn't it?”
“Exactly. Knowing your strengths and weaknesses is vital. If someone is naturally better with short blades but tries to swing a spear they can’t handle, a monster will just slip inside their guard and gut them. We’ll be doing a brief evaluation ourselves to see where their talents lie.”
“I see. So you're experienced enough to handle that as well.” Hashimoto-sensei looked at us with an impressed, slightly surprised expression. We could only give an approximation, of course. We didn't have access to every type of weapon to test them thoroughly.
“However,” I added, my brow furrowing, “we haven't actually attended these dojos ourselves, so there’s still some uncertainty about their specific teaching methods.”
I wondered if any of the martial artists Juzo-san knew were like Genya-san. If they were, would their training be just as reckless? Then again, Genya-san had only pushed us like that because he knew us through Juzo-san.
“Is that so? Then how did the rest of you learn the basics?”
“Since I’m Yuji’s friend, his grandfather—who used to be a dojo master—trained us,” I said. “It was just the fundamentals and some light sparring, but for Hiiragi-san and me, who had zero experience, it was more than enough to survive the dungeon.”
“It’s true,” Hiiragi-san added. “Thanks to that training, we were able to complete our first exploration without a single scratch. When I think about what would have happened if we’d gone in without it… it really hammers home how essential preparation is.”
“I see your point,” Hashimoto-sensei said, looking convinced.
I turned back to Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san and gave them a small, reassuring smile.
“So, don't worry about that part. We have leads on where you can learn the basics. We still don’t know the specifics like tuition or the weekly schedule, so we’ll give you the details later.”
“Understood,” they replied in unison.
The mood in the room lightened as the worry about finding a teacher faded. Now it was time to move on to the next issue. This was the primary reason we were still hesitating to accept the consulting job at all.
“And this next part… it’s less about the conditions and more about the weight of the resolve required.”
“What is it, Kokonoe-kun? You’re being uncharacteristically hesitant.” Hashimoto-sensei watched me with a puzzled, curious look.
I wavered for a moment, glancing at Yuji and the others. Then, I steeled myself.
“It’s about the matter of responsibility once we take this on as a job.”
“Responsibility?” the juniors asked, tilting their heads.
Hashimoto-sensei’s eyes narrowed as she immediately realized what I meant. A bitter shadow crossed her face.
“I mean the liability that arises if we accept the consulting for Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san as a professional service. Up until now, we’ve explored the dungeons entirely at our own risk. In Mika’s case, it was a family matter, so the teaching was informal and handled with a certain level of casualness. But once this becomes a business…”
“I understand,” Hashimoto-sensei said. “If you accept payment for consulting Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san, you will be held to a corresponding level of professional responsibility.”
“Yes. If we take the job, we fully intend to be thorough and see their training through to the end. But this isn’t business consulting. This is consulting for dungeon explorers. And if we consider the worst-case scenario…”
The weight of the word 'responsibility' finally seemed to sink in for the two juniors. Their eyes widened, and their faces went taut.
Hashimoto-sensei let out a long sigh and looked at the five of us.
“It’s not an easy decision to make. Having watched you all in this club, I have no doubt that you would do a professional job if you accepted. But in my personal opinion… if this isn’t your primary career, you don’t need to force yourselves to accept, even if it’s an earnest request from their parents. The responsibility inherent in this kind of consulting is simply too much for high school students to shoulder.”
We all nodded slowly at Hashimoto-sensei’s serious assessment. It was exactly what we’d been thinking.
“W-Wait, please, Senpai!” Tatebayashi-san blurted out, her voice panicked. “When you say 'worst-case scenario,' do you just mean us getting injured?”
“Being an explorer means fighting monsters,” Hino-san added quickly. “If we get hurt, that’s on us! You said so yourselves earlier. Even if something happens, it wouldn't be your fault, Senpai…”
“Exactly! And isn't there, you know, a consent form or something we sign that says we won't sue for injuries?”
“Right! We and our parents are asking for this knowing the risks. We wouldn’t blame you!”
They were desperate. For them, our consulting was the golden ticket to becoming explorers. If we refused, their debut would be delayed indefinitely while they looked for another way to satisfy their parents' conditions.
“Well, the thing is…”
I looked at the others, asking with my eyes if I should just give it to them straight. Yuji and the others frowned, looking conflicted, but eventually gave a small, reluctant nod.
“Alright. I’m going to stop being indirect and tell you exactly what we’re thinking. It’s going to be a shock, but are you ready to hear it?”
“Yes,” they whispered, looking tense.
I took a deep breath and looked them in the eye.
“First, let’s be clear. When we talk about a 'worst-case scenario,' we aren’t talking about you getting a few scrapes or a broken bone in the dungeon. We are talking about permanent disability, severe trauma that leaves you hospitalized, or in the worst case… death.”
The room went deathly silent. Their panicked pleading vanished instantly, replaced by stunned, hollow expressions. It was a reality far more gruesome than the 'injuries' they had been imagining. Hashimoto-sensei looked startled by my bluntness, but she didn't interrupt, signaling me to continue.
“You might think we’re being dramatic, but we’ve actually seen people who ended up in that 'worst-case' category. Granted, that was back in the early days when nobody knew how dungeons worked and there were no rules or common sense among explorers. But because we’ve seen it with our own eyes, we have to treat it as a real possibility.”
“...”
“You… you’ve actually seen things like that?” Hashimoto-sensei asked.
“Yes, unfortunately. We were directly involved twice, and if you spend enough time as an explorer, you hear these stories all the time.”
In reality, while things had improved since the early days, the number of explorers dying in dungeons in Japan hasn't hit zero. And if you count those who retired with crippling trauma, the number is staggering.
Tatebayashi-san and Hino-san were ashen. They looked at the other four members of our group, searching for some sign that I was exaggerating, but they found only grim, knowing expressions.
“Now, Tatebayashi-san, Hino-san. If the worst happened, do you really think your parents would just shrug and say 'it was her own responsibility' because they signed a piece of paper? I don’t. They would hate us. They would scream at us, asking why we couldn't protect you. We would carry that resentment for the rest of our lives.”
“...”
The girls slumped in their chairs, staring blankly at the table.
“We didn’t think this far ahead yesterday, but after sleeping on it, the problem became obvious. It’s a massive disadvantage that requires a very heavy resolve to accept.”
“...”
“Just to be clear,” I added softly, “we don’t have a problem with teaching you the basics as friends. We don’t want our juniors going into a dungeon blind. But doing it as a professional job… at this stage, it’s just too difficult to say yes.”
The two girls remained motionless, their eyes fixed on the tabletop. I’d asked if they were ready for the truth, but maybe it had been too much for them. Then again, if you’ve seen the worst the dungeons have to offer, you can't afford to be optimistic.