April has come, and after a short break, staff at Mitakihara High have put everything in place to start a new term, crossing their fingers that this one wouldn’t be quite as eventful as the last. The graduation ceremony, a few weeks ago, was relatively modest, but to welcome a new generation of freshmen no expense has been spared. No one doubts the fact that the now second-years will continue to cause headaches, but at least the first-years should be offered the stable learning environment they need — even if it comes at the cost of their seniors’ morning routines.

Koharu doesn’t mind being called to school earlier — she has always been one of the first to arrive on campus. What does bother her is the fact that she’s been called to school earlier to move around heavy objects, providing enough seating for an entrance ceremony that is supposed to start in half an hour. With a sigh, she drags yet another folding stool off a large unwieldy cart that Yosuke used to transport the chairs from the storage shed to the auditorium, unfolds it, and puts it in its place, meticulously indicated on the hardcourt floor with duct tape. They’re almost done. Almost.

Yosuke: At least we’re getting extra credit for this, right?

Koharu: Only when your volunteering is actually voluntary.

Yosuke: Anyone else from your class get picked? I think I saw Saotome from my class here somewhere… Well, former class, I guess.

Koharu: Only Shinju. She’s the only reason why we’re getting anywhere with these chairs.

Yosuke: Well, second year’s off to a great start, then… Can’t believe there’s gonna be people calling me “senpai” now.

Koharu: … I’m glad I don’t have to call anyone “senpai” anymore.

Shinju: (Carrying several stools stacked at once) Sorry to break it to ya, but even in the workplace calling your seniors “senpai” is pretty common. Journalists, too. 

Yosuke: Well, at least that gives you an excuse not to have to learn their names! Better to call someone “senpai” than “hey, you”, right?

Koharu: (she shrugs) You say so.

Yosuke: Then again, it’s not like I ever really called Segawa-senpai… eh, well, senpai.

Shinju: I don’t think us younger generation are as picky about it as the old fogeys.

Yosuke: A strict no-senpai policy for the first-years who’ll be joining the Newspaper Club, then?

Koharu: Not happening.

Their conversation is interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.  As the three turn to look at the interloper, they spot an unexpected, yet familiar face next to the cart.

Yuna: Chop chop, we haven’t got all day to get these chairs where we want them, you know?

Yosuke: S-Sorry, Ms. Sakurauchi! We were just discussing some club arrangements, and—

Yuna: Oh? Is this about the new term?

Koharu: Does it matter? You don’t have to spy on us for the Bureau anymore. What are you even still doing here?

Yuna: It might surprise you, Shirahara, but I actually am a certified guidance counselor. I really do just work here, and I have no intention to quit being your club supervisor.

Koharu: Tsh.

Yuna: (she crosses her arms) Them’s the rules, young lady. Clubs need supervisors. Or would you rather have someone you’d have to keep your club’s true purpose a secret from?

Yosuke: Oh, that reminds me… What are we going to do about the whole underclassman situation? I can imagine there being quite a few freshmen who’d wanna join the club, but—

Koharu: Right. It’s impossible. 

Yuna: How so?

Koharu: We cannot do… what we’re supposed to do when there’s people who aren’t aware sticking their noses into our business.

Yuna: You can’t make a school newspaper when there are underclassmen around who… go to this school?

Yosuke: I think she means—

Koharu: Fix it. You can pull strings, right?

Yuna: No, I can’t. Clubs can’t just be exclusive because the president feels like it. You guys are scheduled to promote the newspaper club at the club fair later this week, just like any other club, and hey, why not? Some new members would do you guys good. Besides, more members means more funding.

Yosuke: Wait, what is this about a club fair? We need a stall, right?

Koharu: No, we don’t. It’s impossible.

Yuna: (she sighs) Shirahara. Koharu. Do you have any idea how many exceptions the school board’s already made just for you? Sometimes you gotta play by the rules, even if it’s inconvenient, that’s just how society works.

Koharu: (she mutters) … — my lawyer —

Yuna: (sternly) I’m sure your lawyer will agree that it’s not just the rest of the world that needs to adapt to you, you also need to learn to adapt to the rest of the world, no? I understand it’s difficult, and you can come talk to me about it, but… there are simply some compromises this world expects all of us to make, no matter who you are. Other people exist. Not much you can do about that, okay? (she pauses for a reaction, but none comes) … Now then, chairs? First years will be here in fifteen. (with a reassuring smile at a surly Koharu, she walks off)

Koharu: …

Yosuke: … Well, we can just make our club look really lame, you know? No one’s gonna want to join then, I bet.

Koharu: … Whatever. (she drags another chair off the cart and brusquely unfolds it, setting it in place)