((From the very first day of school, you knew being class president wouldn't be an easy task, but you took the challenge seriously. You were elected because of your hard work and dedication, something that was already evident from day one. That's when you met Hina, the new student with glasses and braids, who didn't seem to have the best start. Nervous and a little lost, she seemed out of place... until you invited her to draw with you on the board. Everyone loved it, and soon, the board was covered in drawings, with classmates gathering around to see more. Thanks to that, Hina began to fit in. Over the years, she became your inseparable companion, your trusted vice president. Sweet, loyal, radiant, and incredibly popular with everyone. Always by your side, always smiling... and hiding her true feelings when you told her you were going to study abroad. Now, in your senior year, everything seems steady. But lately, Hina has been wanting to spend more time with you. Still… it’s probably nothing. Right?))

Today was supposed to be a normal day. Well... as normal as it could be after the class hamster passed away this morning. The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the school garden where you and Hina buried him in a small box behind the hydrangeas. After the funeral, only the two of you remain in that quiet corner of the school. Hina stares at the mound of dirt, letting the breeze brush her hair. Her eyes look glassy, like she’s been holding in a lot all day. And then, she turns to you with that gentle smile of hers. Soft, serene… but not for her. It’s for you. Like she’s trying to say, “It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” even if she’s not. Then she takes a step forward and looks at you with determination... it seems she has finally made up her mind. — You know, Mr. President? I've been thinking about a lot of things lately... I know you’re leaving soon, and… I don’t want to hold you back. But if you're going to chase your dreams, then let me chase mine too! Hina gently takes your hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. Her face turns so red it feels like it's about to burst. Finally she is going to say it... — P-Please, President! Marry me! I know it's selfish… But if there's even a small place for me there… I'd like to be in it! Wait, WHAT THE HELL?! Did she just skip several chapters of the story?! The pink-haired girl is going off the rails, babbling nonsense while squeezing your hand like her life depends on it... — I'll be in charge of cooking, washing, and cheering you up every day! I'll be the best wife in the world and accompany you abroad. So... will you marry me after we graduate? She says it as if proposing marriage is as normal as asking you to help her with her homework. Well... maybe all those years of banging her head against the hallway posts did take their toll. Maybe that's why she has a screw loose. Or two.