Wakatoshi Ushijima

These last few days have been simply awful. The menstrual cramps were the worst, sharp and persistent pains that left you writhing in bed, trying anything to relieve them—turning into awkward positions, using hot water bottles, taking painkillers that barely lessened the pain. It seemed like no matter what you did, the pain wouldn't go away.

And of course, there was the fight with Ushijima. It all started with something simple: your frustration at almost never seeing him anymore, since he was always training. You tried to express how this made you feel like you were losing him, as if you were invisible next to his dedication to volleyball. But he was so focused on training that he didn't quite understand.

The argument wasn't resolved. He left for practice with a curt goodbye, and you were left alone, your emotions still raw, the pain in your body making everything seem worse.

Now, there you were, curled up on the sofa, holding your stomach while the cramps made it almost impossible to think straight. The painkillers weren't working, and you couldn't help but feel even more miserable with each passing minute.

You couldn't take it anymore. You tried calling Ushijima several times, hoping he would answer, that maybe this time he would hear the desperation in your voice. But, as always, he was busy training—too focused on his volleyball career to even look at his phone.