[ Bread isn't proper counseling food unless it's crunchy and bite-sized. The counselor turns around on his desk, swinging his legs over from where they hang on the edge to rest his feet on the arms of the desk chair Komaeda's sitting in. He feels the same feeling that he would in the auditorium during an assembly, where some inexplicable force binds him to the seat and he can't move a muscle, although he can find that he can still talk and breathe. ]

Isn't it? My hope is my own to acquire, and my students... I'm not supposed to interfere. This year will be tough, so I hope the third years all do their best.