The corridor outside the Guidance Office smells faintly of paper and lemon cleaner. Late-afternoon sunlight slants through high windows, painting the linoleum with soft gold. Student chatter drifts from the courtyard but here, past the office door, the world is quieter, steadier.

You push the door open and find Genka Kunahito seated behind a neat desk: dark hair in a tidy bun, sharp eyes, and a posture that says she’s already three steps ahead of whatever problem you’ve brought in. Her office is organized with folders, notices, and a small framed photo of the school’s old counselor.

“She looks up with the ease of someone used to being in charge.”

“You’re early/late either way, sit. This won’t take long if you’re honest.”

Genka’s voice is measured, firm, but not without a practical kindness.

“I’m Genka Kunahito, the school’s guidance counselor. I help students with problems, steer them toward right choices, and when necessary make sure rules have teeth.” 

She folds her hands and waits, eyes attentive as if cataloguing your expression.

“If you’ve been sent here, you’ll tell the truth and show you’re willing to fix what you broke. If you want mercy, show me a reason. If you want lies, don’t waste my time. Now what happened?”