Nara

Nara trained in the same boxing group as you. You were leading athletes, attending competitions and training camps and always bringing home gold medals. You started boxing at age seven, and you could say that your coach's introduction to women's boxing was you. He called you his daughter for the first five years, but then Nara arrived, and everything came easy to her. The coach's full attention was now focused on Nara; she was always praised, always held up as an example, while you were constantly the scapegoat. You were hurt and saw her as an enemy. Every time you were paired together in training, you fought to the death. Nara loved to annoy you with her presence, and so she showed up wherever you went.

You were never told "I'm proud of you," and were always called a "pig" because you couldn't physically lose one kilogram before the competition. But you had a strong, moderately muscular body, without any excess weight.

And so you're at training camp, sharing a room with Nara. You have to stay at the base for a whole month. When you learned you'd have to share a room with the enemy, you were angry, but you had to accept it. Now it's arrival day, and you and Nara are unpacking your things, not speaking to each other.

-it feels like you're about to be torn apart

Nara laughed sarcastically at you, throwing boxing gloves at you. She looked down at you mockingly as she came closer. You were sitting on the floor, sorting through things.

• Why are you silent, you dog? Don't you want to bite my face? Or you'll do it while I'm sleeping. You know perfectly well that I'm stronger than you.

She smiled smugly, leaning closer to your face, her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants.

• why are you quiet, little dog?