If one insisted on labeling a tool as either "just" or "evil," then by Hirakawa Tetsufumi's standards—or rather, by common sense—the answer would be simple:
A tool itself has no morality.
It has no consciousness, no sense of right or wrong. The only meaningful way to judge a tool is whether it is useful or not useful.
As early as over two thousand years ago, even Mencius had implied this idea with his remark: "It is not I, but the weapon."
A tool is merely an extension of its user.
If one truly wishes to judge something as righteous or wicked, what is being judged is not the tool—but the person wielding it.
Hirakawa firmly believed this.
The same applied to the system.
Anyone who understood even a little about how it worked would probably, upon hearing its method of use, feel that
"This system is… kind of questionable, isn't it?"
That reaction was inevitable.
It was simply human nature to project one's own values onto a tool, and then judge it accordingly.
But if one stripped away all subjective bias, the system was nothing more than a tool.
Whether it was "improper" or not ultimately depended on the user.
Even if the method of use seemed strange, the outcome was still in the hands of the one who used it.
If the user was unscrupulous, the tool would naturally become a means to satisfy their own desires.
But if the user was upright
Hirakawa believed he was upright.
When examining one's own heart, excessive humility was not a virtue. Facing oneself honestly was the correct approach.
He did not believe he was using the system for selfish reasons.
He felt no shame toward himself.
No shame toward his role as a teacher.
No shame toward anyone.
Well, if he had to admit something, forcing Kuda-sensei to pour him water that one time was… a bit much.
Yes.
Ahem.
Since obtaining the system, he had only used it three times.
The first time had been an experiment.
The second had been to build a bridge of communication between Tsutsuhara Shiori and her mother.
And the third
Just now.
It had been to break through the closed heart of a certain girl.
Even so, he had no intention of relying on the system completely.
Forcing one's own "correct" views onto others was never a good thing.
That had always been his principle.
So after activating the system, when facing this particularly troublesome student, what he said was:
"Amamiya, as your teacher, I hope you'll carefully and seriously think about the suggestion I just made."
"…Could you do that?"
As his words fell, the wind passed through the trees.
And with it
That faint, mysterious influence dissipated.
Hirakawa watched.
The confusion that had clouded Amamiya Yoru's eyes—her earlier avoidance, her retreat into her own little world—began to fade.
Clarity returned.
Light returned.
At the same time, she turned her head and looked at him.
"…Think about it seriously?"
"Yes. From here on, I hope you'll take the time to properly consider what I suggested. Of course, the choice is yours. Please think it through carefully."
"Okay."
After a long silence, she nodded.
Hirakawa smiled faintly.
Even if one covered their ears, pretended not to hear, or sealed off their heart
It was useless.
With the system's assistance, words could reach deep inside a person and exert their true power.
This was how the system was meant to be used.
Not for anything strange or inappropriate like those absurd late-night show scenarios.
Absolutely not.
"As for the kittens," he continued, not forgetting the immediate issue despite his satisfaction, "until you come to a decision, I can take care of them for you."
"But please decide soon. I don't think I have the energy to look after four cats for long."
"Thank you, Sensei."
"No need to thank me. Now then… shall we head back to school?"
"Mm."
"After all, you've already skipped the entire morning, Amamiya."
"!"
The small smile that had just returned to her face instantly disappeared.
In its place
Guilt.
And a trace of grievance.
"I'm sorry… Hirakawa-sensei… I caused you trouble again…"
She bowed.
But seeing this, Hirakawa only frowned slightly.
It wasn't the apology he minded.
It was something else.
Something that reminded him
Of that earlier threat.
The situation wasn't so different, yet the outcomes had been completely opposite.
The first time, he had been threatened.
The latter two times, he received sincere apologies.
Why?
Strange.
"Hirakawa-sensei?"
Yoru called out after straightening up, noticing his daze.
He came back to himself.
"Ah… Amamiya."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
He looked into her eyes, as if trying to find something hidden within them.
"Back in the staff room… why did you say that to me?"
He didn't finish the sentence.
But there was no way she had forgotten.
Of course not.
The moment she heard the question, her expression stiffened.
She turned her face away, avoiding his gaze, staring instead at the weeds beside them.
"Sensei… I'm sorry."
"That's not why I'm asking," he said gently. "I'm not blaming you. I'm just curious about the reason."
He truly was.
The apology didn't matter anymore.
He just wanted to understand.
Silence.
It seemed she found it difficult to say.
But Hirakawa was patient.
He waited quietly.
One minute passed.
The kittens meowed six times in total.
Finally
She gathered her courage.
"I did that… because"
Her voice was soft.
Hesitant.
"it looked cool."
"?"
For a moment, Hirakawa genuinely wondered if he had misheard.
Cool?
What?
Why?
Had he misunderstood?
What part of that was "cool"?
He couldn't make sense of it at all.
Seeing his confusion, Yoru shyly continued explaining:
"Um… how should I put it… As a student, standing up to a teacher—someone in authority—and saying something like, 'If you don't want to lose your job, don't interfere'…"
"that kind of line… feels really cool."
From the way her eyes lit up slightly as she spoke, it was clear
She really thought so.
It was as if she had returned to that moment, proudly playing the role of someone defying authority.
A rebellion against power, perhaps?
If framed that way…
It was just barely understandable.
A student representing the weak.
A teacher representing authority.
From that perspective, what she did was like—
Marching into the principal's office and declaring:
"Principal, if you don't want to lose your position, then don't interfere."
Ignoring all logic…
Yes.
That did sound "cool."
In a very questionable way.
Hirakawa let out a helpless sigh.
"So why did you even get the idea to do something like that?"
"Because at the end of last semester, when I went to the staff room… I heard Tsutsuhara-san do the same thing."
"She was really cool."
Ah.
So that was it.
The true culprit
Tsutsuhara Shiori.
That young lady had really caused him trouble.
And had even inspired Amamiya Yoru to imitate her.
Honestly…
There were no words.
As for Yoru
What kind of person sees something like that as "cool"?
And not only that, but actually tries to copy it?
She really was a problematic girl.
There was no doubt about it.
Looking at her now—standing there awkwardly, apologetic—Hirakawa had a lot he wanted to say.
But then
In a sudden flash of inspiration—
Something connected
in his mind.
The "contract" he had just made with her.
"Contract."
"Cool."
Those keywords linked together.
And from that
He thought of a very famous anime.
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