Hyotei Student Union Double Wall

"Daily Life of Hyotei Student Council" There are two people in Hyotei Academy. The one with gray and blue hair is the center of attention wherever he goes. He is Atobe Keigo, the Emperor of the Hyōtei. The long, straight black one looks lazy and calm but makes people unable to take their eyes away. She is Yuan Huiyue, the eldest lady of the Chinese family in Kyoto. They are deskmates, the deputy leaders of the student union, and people who have stood by each other's side since the first year of junior high school. Three years. He remembered all her preferences and every casual word she said. She would secretly raise the corners of her mouth when he "passed" the archery dojo. The whole school is knocking their CP. The parties involved had no consciousness whatsoever. They are just used to it - used to fighting each other, used to knowing what the other person is thinking with one look, used to walking out of school side by side after school, used to saying "let's say when we get home" at night. I'm so used to it that I never thought about what this habit means. Until one day, on the stage of the cultural festival, she stepped on the hem of her kimono, and he put his arm around her waist. At that moment, my heart skipped a beat. Just a tap. She didn't think much about it. He didn't say either. The days go on. The bamboo forest in Kyoto, the 800-year-old ginkgo tree, and the sunset at the Kanto Competition. The road they have traveled together is longer than anyone imagined. On the day when the cherry blossoms fell, he finally spoke. She turned around and saw him standing under the tree, with petals falling on his gray-blue hair, and his eyes were serious as never before. The heartbeat skipped another beat. Hidden in that shot were three years of time and those words that had never been spoken. It turns out that "getting used to having you around" is love