In the end, Kanade Natsukawa, after a moment of inner conflict and sighing like an older brother being dragged along on a little sister's adventure, agreed to accompany her to the all-you-can-eat barbecue restaurant. But alas, such restaurants didn't open until later in the day. So, with time to burn and no pressing obligations, the two decided to wander the streets together.
The early May weather was warm and gentle. The rain from the night before still lingered in the air, giving everything a crisp freshness. The humidity added a slight stickiness, but not enough to ruin the pleasant mood that often came with the changing of the seasons. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and the wind would occasionally carry petals through the air in delicate flurries, making it feel like they were walking through a painting.
As they strolled leisurely beneath the sakura trees, they passed by a number of young couples walking hand-in-hand. It seemed like spring had brought out all the lovebirds. Soft laughter, shy glances, playful nudges—it was the season of heartbeats and new beginnings. The atmosphere was thick with the sweet and sour scent of youthful romance.
Kanade didn't particularly react to it all. He'd seen it many times before, and besides, it wasn't as if such things were uncommon in his own life—at least from how others perceived him. After a while, that constant exposure numbed the impact. What used to seem special became mundane. As the saying goes, familiarity breeds indifference.
"Spring, huh," he muttered with a tired look in his eyes. "Truly a season for animals to... reproduce."
He wasn't exactly wrong. Love seemed to be blooming everywhere, like a nature documentary in real time.
Walking beside him, Miko Iino was clearly not used to being out and about in such a lively, couple-infested area. Her curious gaze kept darting to the pairs nearby, but the more affectionate the couple, the redder her cheeks grew until she had to turn her head away entirely.
"H-Holding hands and hugging is one thing," she whispered, obviously flustered, "but doing all that in public… How can they act so shamelessly?!"
Kanade followed her line of sight and spotted the source of her alarm: a couple off to the side, half-concealed in a little alcove. The boy had his arms wrapped around the girl, and they were whispering softly, clearly enjoying each other's presence. Hands wandered a little freely. Their closeness hinted at... future developments.
"Haaah…" Kanade exhaled and looked away casually, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess they just can't help themselves. But don't worry—this kind of couple is still the minority. Most people are more restrained. Best not to let it get to you."
The world was big. It had all types. Some people lived for adrenaline and PDA. But there was no need to fixate on them.
"But… isn't that still a bad influence?" Miko pressed, brows furrowed in concern. "Even if it's not illegal, shouldn't they be more mindful of how their actions affect others? We shouldn't disturb public order…"
Ah, there it was—that sense of justice again. Kanade could already hear her inner monologue: I must uphold righteousness! Even if I stand alone!
He gave her a patient look. "You're not wrong, but… this isn't school. Out here, people have more freedom. That's just how society works. At most, they're just being a bit indecent—but there's no law against hugging or kissing in public."
He shrugged. "If you called the police for something like this, they'd just think you're overreacting. Maybe even scold you for wasting their time."
That was the crux of it. Outside the boundaries of school rules, the world ran on much looser standards. What might seem outrageous to a rule-abiding honor student was just another Tuesday to everyone else.
Miko's mouth twitched like she wanted to argue, but she couldn't quite refute his logic. She reluctantly averted her gaze, clearly still upset.
Kanade glanced at her with a touch of concern. Something about her overly serious demeanor had him worried. Is she okay...?
"You've been really focused on discipline lately, huh?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "How's school been? That forest school event went alright, yeah? You didn't run into any trouble?"
At his words, Miko visibly deflated. Her shoulders drooped and her expression darkened ever so slightly.
Ah. Hit a nerve.
"If there's anything bothering you," Kanade offered gently, "you can talk to me. I was the one who asked you to handle that event planning for the first-years, after all. I should take some responsibility."
Miko hesitated. Then, seeing his calm and genuine expression, she nodded.
"Actually… it's like this," she began softly, gathering her thoughts with a deep breath.
Kanade stood quietly by her side, his posture relaxed but his attention sharp. He nodded every now and then to show he was listening, not rushing her, not judging. Just quietly taking in every word she said.
The matter itself wasn't particularly complicated—at least not on the surface. As one of Shuchiin Academy's long-standing traditions, the forest school retreat for both the first and second years followed a nearly identical structure: a series of educational bonding exercises, capped off with the infamous "test of courage" before the end of the program.
To most students, this "test of courage" was less about braving the unknown and more about braving the chance to flirt. It had become something of a romantic battleground—an unspoken but widely accepted opportunity to try pairing up with someone, sometimes even in the name of love.
Naturally, the first-years, picking up on this hidden meaning, became just as fired up about the event as the second-years. For them, it wasn't just a school activity—it was a once-in-a-semester romantic opportunity. But the real issue wasn't the students—it was the student council. More specifically, the disciplinary members in charge.
In the first-year division of the student council, there were only two real officers: Iino Miko and her classmate Shijo. Neither had much experience managing large groups, and worse still, Iino's sense of justice burned a bit too brightly. In her eyes, certain behaviors—such as boys and girls sneaking off into the forest in pairs—were far too suspicious.
So, before the test of courage even began, Miko took action.
She cracked down hard, catching a few "typical offenders" who were sneaking around with obvious romantic intentions. She issued them serious punishments: unless they wrote formal letters of repentance and received approval, they would be banned from participating in the test of courage.
Unsurprisingly, chaos followed.
To the first-years, this punishment was overkill. Just who did she think she was? A lone disciplinary committee chairwoman handing out bans like she ran the whole school? Even the revered student council president—Natsukawa-senpai himself—would never go that far!
Outrage spread like wildfire. The punished students rallied their classmates, and together they submitted a formal complaint to the school administration, accusing the student council of abusing its power.
Eventually, the grade's faculty director had to intervene. The result? Miko had to retract the punishments and apologize publicly to the students involved. In return, those students submitted generic repentance letters stating that they "should not have incited others into disruptive behavior."
The entire incident left Miko shaken. She genuinely believed she was following school regulations—and yet, when push came to shove, the school didn't back her up.
And it didn't end there.
Although no one said it out loud, she could feel it. The subtle changes in how people treated her. Fewer greetings in the hallway. Eyes that used to light up when they saw her now turned away. The goodwill she had built up during the student council elections had quietly begun to crumble, slipping back toward the days when she was just the strict, humorless chair of the disciplinary committee.
Kanade listened in silence, his expression unreadable. But in his heart, he was sighing. Man… this girl really went for it. Trying to control a bunch of hormone-fueled first-years in the middle of what's basically a love festival? Brave. Or maybe just too serious for her own good…
But of course, as her senpai, it wasn't his job to laugh—it was his duty to guide her.
So, after a brief pause, Kanade spoke in his usual calm voice.
"…I don't think what you did was entirely wrong," he said slowly. "But—maa, let's just say your method could use a little refining."