"The method can definitely be improved," Natsukawa Kanade said, folding his arms and looking at Miko with a calm but thoughtful expression. "But before we talk about how to fix it… let's take a step back and think about why it didn't work."
He took a breath and began to speak slowly, clearly, the way a teacher might when giving advice to a passionate but slightly misguided student.
"For example—punishments. No matter how justified you think they are, the moment someone gets punished, they'll feel wronged. That's just how people are. 'Why me? Everyone else was doing the same thing, so why am I the one being targeted?' That kind of thinking is normal, ne, Iino-kun?"
Miko lowered her eyes slightly, nodding in reluctant agreement.
"Of course, in practice, you can't punish everyone. That's just impossible. So what do people usually do? They make an example out of one or two, hoping to scare the rest straight—killing the chicken to warn the monkey, as the saying goes."
Kanade let out a soft chuckle, not unkind, but tinged with sympathy.
"If the person you caught is someone honest who just got carried away, they might accept the punishment. Maybe they'll write that repentance letter—even if they don't mean a single word of it. But that's the exception. The truth is, most of the students at Shuchiin are prideful. And some… probably already saw the disciplinary committee as the nosy moral police from the start. So when you cracked down like that—boom—old grudges and new ones came together."
He paused, letting the weight of that land before continuing.
"Normally, they wouldn't dare challenge you. After all, you represent the school. You and your committee were entrusted with upholding the rules, and on most days, that's enough to keep everyone in line."
"But the forest school retreat is different."
Kanade's tone softened, growing almost philosophical.
"That trip… especially the test of courage… was created as an outlet. An opportunity for all these hormonal teenagers to burn off the energy they've been bottling up all semester. Whether it's excitement, anxiety, or young love, the school turns a blind eye—maybe even encourages it, in their own way."
"That's why the schedule that day only had classes in the morning. The afternoon was deliberately cleared, giving students time to prepare—both emotionally and, well… romantically."
He gave her a knowing glance, and Miko blushed but didn't deny it.
"But you, Iino-kun, went in with your usual serious attitude. You treated it like just another school day, where rules must be followed to the letter. And then you used the 'right to participate'—which the students saw as sacred—as a weapon. Of course they resisted."
Miko opened her mouth to respond, but Kanade raised a hand gently. "Matte. Let me finish first."
"You said you felt betrayed by the school. But honestly, I think they were being pretty lenient with you."
"B-but—" Miko protested, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.
"Just hear me out," Kanade said, his voice still calm. "Have you ever thought about how the lectures during the retreat weren't core curriculum? They were mostly optional, remember? Extra lessons, things that aren't even going to be on exams."
"In fact, the teachers didn't even care if the students were paying attention. They just had to show up, deliver the material, and leave the rest up to the students. It was almost like a sneak preview of how university lectures work. Study by yourselo, right?"
Miko's expression slowly shifted into one of realization.
"But the disciplinary committee—you and the others—you acted like it was business as usual. Like the usual high school rules still applied. That's when the students started asking themselves: 'Why should I be scared of the disciplinary committee when even the teachers don't care?'"
Kanade sighed softly, leaning slightly against the nearby railing.
"In the end, that resentment got directed at you. And when the complaints piled up, the teachers had to get involved. Now… if it were anyone else, I think they would've been removed from the position."
He turned to look her straight in the eyes.
"But the school didn't. Why? Because they see your value. They think 'Iino Miko' is the perfect person for the disciplinary committee. Too perfect, maybe. They didn't want to lose someone like you."
He paused again, giving her a moment to take that in. Her hands trembled just slightly at her sides.
"That's why they chose to 'protect' you. Instead of dismissal, they asked you to apologize—just that. No demotion, no replacement."
"And those students who made a fuss? They got off light. A warning, and a gentle slap on the wrist—a repentance letter that probably read like a note passed in class. It wasn't even punishment, really. It was the school telling them: 'Next time, do it more maturely.'"
He gave a small sigh and turned to Miko, who was still wrestling with the situation in her mind.
"In the end, the method you used—it didn't work. It didn't produce the result you wanted," he said, not to criticize, but to teach. "Punishment like that? It's all bark, no bite. Even if they hand you a regret letter the next day, what's to stop them from going right back to doing the same thing? You couldn't ban them from joining the test of courage permanently. And even if you tried—what if they just snuck in?"
He arched a brow at her. "Are you going to have someone shadow them 24/7 like a ninja on a tracking mission? No way… You'd need a whole ANBU squad for that."
"The truth is, that kind of punishment relies entirely on the student's sense of morality and personal responsibility. And unfortunately…" Kanade gave a wry smile. "That's something you can't exactly test in a classroom."
Miko's expression stiffened, the frustration clear in her eyes, but she said nothing.
"So," Kanade continued, "my suggestion? Forget punishments for now. Flip the script. Announce in advance that students who demonstrate good behavior during the lectures or help maintain order will be considered for special partner exceptions."
Miko blinked. "Special exceptions…?"
"Yup." He smiled. "Approval to choose the partner of their choice—regardless of grades or rank. You know how much everyone wants to be paired with their favorite… ahem 'close friends.' This one announcement is enough to stir up the whole student body. You won't even have to lift a finger. Just wait in the office for the flood of partner applications."
She stared at him in stunned silence.
"It's not about punishing rulebreakers anymore," Kanade explained. "You're shifting the tension. Instead of you vs. the students, you create a healthy competition among the students. It becomes about outperforming each other to earn that partner privilege. It redirects their energy, gives them motivation—and it even improves the overall atmosphere of the retreat."
"And," he added, "the school will almost certainly approve. After all, it's technically encouraging good behavior and academic diligence. Win-win, ne?"
Miko looked shocked. "Eh?! Can… Can you really just do that? Wouldn't that break the existing rules…?"
Kanade gave a low chuckle. "Rules? Heh. Rules aren't sacred texts. They're meant to evolve."
"Sou da na..." he continued thoughtfully, "Without breaking something first, you can't rebuild it stronger. That's what change is. If a rule gets replaced by a better system—one that's more effective and fairer—then that new system becomes the rule. That's not rebellion. That's progress."
"But…" she hesitated again, her eyes conflicted, "Wouldn't that be unfair to the students who already earned their qualifications earlier?"
Kanade sighed. "The world's not fair, Iino-kun."
He met her gaze directly.
"And besides, if they earned their place before, what's stopping them from doing it again? Or do you think they'll get lazy just because they made it once? If anything, this change will light a fire under them."
He raised a finger like a sensei making a point. "Complacency breeds weakness. This kind of challenge reminds them they're not untouchable. If they want to stay on top, they've got to keep proving themselves. That's how real growth happens."
"Also," he added, "you're not taking spots away—you're adding more. Create bonus spots. Recognize students who've shown real effort or made major improvements. I can only give them words of praise as a teacher. But you, as a student council officer, can actually reward them."
"If someone wants to participate in the test of courage, let them earn it. Let desire and ambition drive effort. That's what it means to truly understand how people tick."
"…"
Miko was silent for a long moment.
But then, her eyes lit up with sudden clarity. "Ah! I get it now! Just punishing people doesn't work… If I really want to guide them, I need to win over their hearts!"
Kanade's expression froze.
"…That's… not exactly what I said…"
He let out a tiny sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Well… the spirit is there, at least.
He looked at her, so bright-eyed and full of newfound conviction, and couldn't help but wonder if he'd accidentally awakened something dangerous. Was this the beginning of Iino Miko's villain origin story…?
"…Yare yare da ze. Maybe I should've held back a little…"
Still, deep down, he smiled. Watching his junior grow—even if a little awkwardly—wasn't such a bad thing.