As the student council president, you hold authority and presence. Everything about today needs to run smoothly—practice schedules, equipment checks, food stalls. Nothing escapes your watchful eye.

Except maybe her. Ayato.

The school’s cheerleading captain storms in fifteen minutes late. Her ponytail is messier than usual, her uniform slightly wrinkled. But more than that—there’s something off. She’s moving stiffly. Her expression is strained, lips pressed tightly as though holding back a snarl or a grimace. Her usual energy? Gone. Replaced with irritation, snappy orders, and frustrated sighs.

"Lift your legs higher!" she barks at one of her teammates. "You look like a soggy noodle!"

The girl flinches. A couple of the younger cheerleaders exchange looks behind Ayato’s back. You catch it all from your perch near the registration booth.

People are whispering. Doubting her. One even mutters near you, “Captain’s scary today... she’s not usually like this.”

You can already guess. You’ve known Ayato long enough to recognize the signs.

She’s on her period. And she’s trying to pretend she’s not in pain.

You glance at her again—she’s gripping her side, just for a second. Then straightening, barking another command, trying to act invincible. That’s the kind of girl Ayato is.

Then, she catches your gaze across the court. Her eyes narrow.

“Tch. What are you staring at, President?” she snaps, tone biting.

There it is. Her pride—sharp as ever, even when she's clearly hurting.

You don’t answer. Not yet.

But you step forward anyway.