Rin runs, long strides that eats the pavement. His hair is in his face, bunches jouncing as his feet impacts the asphalt surface. The words manliness and male, less interchangeable than they might seem, both describe him well. Manliness suggests a sort of toughness, though not without a sense of being humble. Male encompasses power as blunt and raw as sex. Neither descriptor would suffice without the other.
Muscled and athletic, he runs nearly every day, usually not long before sundown. Eyes up, watching the trail and the surroundings. Each footfall of the asphalt is the jolt of a syllable through his body: Vic-to-ry.
He feels like he can fly.
"Victory," Rin whispers under his breath. The word seems to give his feet wings, sending him down the path with a new surge of speed. A moment later he skids to a halt, putting his hands on his knees. Standing upright, he pushes his hand through his hair again and again as he heaves in air. Thirty seconds and he'll start running again. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
A lone saxophone reaches his ears. Rin isn't particularly fond of jazz music, since all he hears is shitty stuff that makes him think of a bad porno. Or elevator music. Or a bad porno in an elevator.
But this soulful number is enough to get him in the groove. The sound increases to a roar, growing louder. A few more steps and he spots Mizuki, lifting the sax to her mouth, belting out music that would have people let their hair down and get out of their shoes, as well.
Listen to that saxophone. Now that is one sexy instrument. Rin clears his throat. "What the hell are you doing?" When she doesn't answer, he loudly speaks over the sound, yelling, "Hey! I'm talking to you!"
She abruptly stops playing and turns around. Startled, he jerks backwards and almost twists his ankle.
Holy shit.
His heart scampers into his throat and his eyes widen at the girl before him. With her eyes glowing mischievously in the night, Mizuki looks more cat than human.
"Oh, uh... sorry..." Mizuki approaches him. Her tenor saxophone dangles like an upside-down question mark from a strap around her neck. "I didn't mean to scare you." She glances at Rin, then averts her eyes and focuses on his red Fila running shoes as if deciding what to say next.
"Are you okay?"
Her voice, a rich sound that can melt ice, finally reaches his ears, pulling him out of his daze. But when he opens his mouth to answer, nothing comes out. She pauses, her hands holding onto the sax, waiting.
"That's my line. It's really late; shouldn't you be at home?" he scolds. Her eyebrows go up, looking at him in disbelief, and her grip on the instrument tightens.
"I'm sorry?"
"I outweigh you by, what, a ton? And I'm a guy," He sizes her up, realizing just how bad the situation could have been, were it anyone but him. "You can get seriously hurt, you now? If you meet a strange guy, you run and call the cops."
"Then I'm going to go," she says, already backing up. "I should go home, so..."
"Hold it!"
Mizuki's stomach jumps into her throat, and her voice cracks as she says, "W-what's wrong?"
"Just wait..."
Mizuki watches as he runs a hand over his head, having an inner conflict with himself. He doesn't want to be bothered with her, honestly. She's someone he met once and just happens to be on friendly terms with Haruka and the others.
On the other hand, he doesn't want to leave Mizuki to fend for herself in case some nutcase is lurking behind the corner. He's too nice, really. Rin finally comes to a decision and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll walk you home."
"Okay, well..." The look she gives Rin seems full of equal parts dread, discomfort, and awkward...
Yeah, just awkward.
She figured it might be bad if he knows where she lives. She doesn't know him on a personal level. But he's not exactly a stranger anymore. He's Matsuoka Rin. Second year student at Samezuka Academy, and Gou's big brother. And he's friends with...
"You're a friend of Nanase Haruka, right?"
"He's not my friend," Rin says automatically, then sighs. That response is getting to be knee-jerk. "That is, he's not anymore." He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I don't remember your name."
"Mizuki," she replies, holding out her hand. "Watanabe Mizuki. Nice to meet you. Again."
As Rin shakes her hand, Mizuki can feel the heat he provides like crackling ambers, smoldering beneath a pile of blazing logs. When he finally lets go, she makes a low sound of disappointment in her throat, grumpy. It makes him smile, that little sound.
"This has got to be one of the weirdest introductions."
"Reintroduction," she interrupts, with an embarrassed smile pulling at her lips. She's cute, in a girl-next-door kind of way. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, then glances around once more. "I'm telling you, it's not smart to come out this late in the evening."
"I know," she says, and thankfully it sounds as though she'll never do it again. "I just didn't want my family to listen in during practice. No one bothers me here, and it's nice and quiet."
Rin rubs his jaw. "Honestly, think before you act."
"I'll bet, or you would have come at me with a chainsaw." He crosses his arms, then grins when she giggles. "I can always swing my sax around to scare off predators," she demonstrates playfully. "Or maybe I should take self-defense classes?"
Definitely cute.
"At the risk of losing my masculine reputation in case you do hit me out cold with that thing, I'll accompany you home."
They walk side by side. She doesn't know how to handle situations like this. Is she supposed to make conversation, or should she leave him be? Time passes in silence. Rin senses her discomfort and tries to put her at ease.
"That's a nice saxophone."
"Prez."
Rin halts. He frowns at her slightly. "What?"
"Nothing, forget it." Her smile comes out kind of creepy. Her mother hates it when she does that, but it's automatic; she can't help it. When Mizuki feels awkward, she looks awkward. She can always be counted on to have the corresponding facial expression for each and every embarrassing event.
She quickly decides a short explanation is in order. She's not the only musician who names her instruments. He won't think she's weird. Maybe.
"Prez, that's his name. The saxophone, I mean. It was Lester Young's nickname, one of my favorite sax players besides John Coltrane. He always told a story in his solos in an original way. It's pure art... He showed me how good a sax player or any other instrument can get when enough hard work and dedication is put into playing."
Rin stares at her for a couple of seconds and then grins. He'd spend ten minutes with the girl and it's already obvious how passionate she is about music. It vibrates off of her.
"He's that good, huh?"
"He was amazing. I have all his records."
"I'm sure you're right. I don't really know much about jazz. I mean, I know a little―Bill Evans―but that's about it."
Her awkward smile morphs into something more normal-looking. The fact that he's trying to talk about her interests, despite not knowing much, makes her feel all warm inside.
They resume their walk.
"You like music?"
"Y-yes, I like music." This is the brilliant response that Mizuki manages to get out.
"You look good like that, with Prez strapped around your neck."
Does he mean good looking as in she looks good to him? Her hands begin a mad dash around her body. She can't stop them. They fiddle with the saxophone reed, run through her hair, cover her mouth in a fake cough, and then readjust the strap around her neck.
Stop fidgeting!
"You like to play?" he asks. "I guess that much is obvious."
"I like to play."
"Been at it for long?"
"I've been at it for a long time." More brilliance by the brilliant conversationalist.
The front end of the first floor is taken up by the Suzuran ramen shop, which is closed for the night. The family's living spaces are behind and above it. When the two arrive, she turns to him and bows lightly. "This is my house. Sorry for all the trouble."
"No trouble. Anytime. I mean, I hope this doesn't happen again, but if it does..."
"It definitely won't happen again." Mizuki winces at how she made it sound as if she doesn't like his company; that wasn't her intention.
"Oookay," Rin draws out. "Does my presence really make you that uncomfortable?"
"No, that's not right," she says quickly, trying to resolve the misunderstanding. "I'm sorry, Matsuoka-san. I didn't mean to sound so rude. That wasn't my intention, like, not at all. Really, thank you for taking the time to walk me home. I had fun, honest. Please say something, cause if you don't, I'll just keep talking. And now I look like a weirdo, don't I? You're still not saying anything. Okay, I'm a weirdo."
She's rambling. And it's cute as hell. Rin smiles. And as he does, he feels like the Big Bad Wolf and she's the little Red Riding Hood. My, what big teeth I have.
He smiles wider, especially when he realizes that she's even wearing a red cardigan. She's wearing shapeless clothes that seem a bit too big for her. Too bad.
"It's fine," Rin assures her. "I like weirdoes."
Mizuki's head snaps up and her eyes meet his, her gaze startled. He laughs. Something about her seems so innocent. She'd truly be startled if she could hear his thoughts regarding her body―mostly evaluating the possibilities, despite the clothes she's wearing to hide her figure.
He has no idea why the thought of not seeing her again after this would be such a tragedy. She's still just a girl. This only further proves that he's not to be trusted around her.
Breaking out in the cold sweat of relief, Mizuki gives him her creepy smile once again. She feels more weary and exhausted than she's ever been in a while. "Ha, ha. I see."
Another silence-filled moment.
Mizuki's never been walked home before. What the hell is she supposed to do now? Hug him? Thank him again? Ask him for his number? Crap, she really is out of her comfort zone.
"Matsuoka-san... how did you know what to do before? When I had a panic attack?"
He sighs. "My little sister used to have these really bad nightmares, and that's what my mom did to calm her down and to get her head focused again. It worked for her so I thought it was probably similar."
That kind of solution was never mentioned during any of her therapy sessions. Instead, she had to sit and tell various shrinks about her feelings while they prescribed every pill on the market. No thanks.
"You can definitely rock that thing." The corner of Rin's mouth curls upwards, then falls away as quickly as it came. "You're good at playing the sax, so don't sneak out anymore. Don't doubt your skills. Just keep practicing—indoors, that is."
Mizuki finds her voice, forces it steady. "Thank you, Matsuoka-san. I'll keep that in mind."
"Seriously, stop calling me that," he says in a stern tone.
Mizuki splutters. Why people get insulted when I address them formally is beyond me, she thinks, recalling how the members of the Iwatobi swim club were either embarrassed or insulted at this fact, telling her to drop it. There was this one time she addressed Haruka as Haru-chan since Nagisa told her to, which he didn't take too well.
"It's only polite..."
"I'm telling you to stop. Just Rin is fine." He can see the gears working in her head at the thought of calling him by his first name. "Rin-chan?"
He groans. "Don't you dare."
"Oh, uh... yeah. Just Rin then." Mizuki does this weird nodding thing with her head. "Okay, well... see you."
"Go on," Rin makes a waving movement with his hand, shooing her away. "Get inside already." He watches her scurry off like a frightened crab, reaching the door.
Mizuki takes one last look back at Rin. His hands are in his pockets, but he takes one out to wave at her. Sliding open the wooden door, she gives him a final wave before making her way inside.
-----------
"We're heading to the pool," Makoto calls out to Mizuki, the ringing of the school bell fading through the hallway. "After we're done with today's swimming workout for the regional tournament, we ought to have some time left to focus on you."
Mizuki laughs, and in her eyes is the growing light of joy. She shakes her head, her silky light-brown locks moving about. "I appreciate the offer but the audition is today," she replies. "The music club needs a saxophone player in time for the summer festival, and I'm desperate to get in the band."
Sure enough, Mizuki is carrying her trusty instrument around, in its protective case, and her figure quivers with excitement. Despite being rather lanky and weedy, with her usual light-brown hair, hazel eyes and very black lashes, she has visitations of beauty when excited, because then she flushes deeply, and that makes all the difference to Haruka.
He doubts she considers herself beautiful. She's usually too polite and awkward and tongue-tied in company to feel excited over anything. All the better, because he wants to keep that transforming gorgeous flush for himself.
"I see," Makoto smiles. "I'll be rooting for you, Mizuki."
For Haruka, breaking the monotony of their routine is not acceptable. "Too much change brings bad luck for those born under the Virgo sign."
"You're going to jinx my performance!" she counters with a frown. As if she isn't nervous enough. Things have not been going very well with her of late; courtesy of bad luck with fortune telling.
"Relax," Makoto soothes, patting her shoulder. "You'll do fine. I'm sure they will appreciate someone who is goal-oriented, hardworking and ambitious."
And nervous. Don't forget nervous. Because even though she's prepared to do her damnedest to prove herself, she can't ignore that nagging voice in her head telling her to give up.
A bead of sweat trickles down Mizuki's spine as everyone in the club's music room watches her hook the sax with the strap around her neck, slide the reed into the mouthpiece, wipe the instrument with a cloth and then bows for attention.
Looking perplexed, a first year stares at her with a deep frown marring his serious face. His reaction becomes clear when she spots his instrument of choice—a nice, pristine gold lacquered tenor sax. She smiles sheepishly at her rival and silently wishes the nervous fluttering in her stomach would settle.
Makoto wishes her luck once more before dragging Haruka along with him; the blue-eyed youngster keeps going on and on about how Mizuki's total lung capacity is significantly larger than average thanks to playing the sax on a regular basis.
"I don't think she has the time to invest in something else. Mizuki should swim with us. She's gifted, Makoto."
"Haru, is that the only reason you want to drag her along?"
Haruka colors, involuntarily, to find that his friend has been reading his thoughts, but boldly asks: "Why else do you think?"
Makoto grins, catching the instantaneous change he knows so well in Haruka's face, which becomes gloomy as it has been flushed a moment ago. "She's not gonna forget about us. Understand that whether she gets the part or not, Mizuki will drop by at the pool for a visit."
Haruka shoves his hands into his pockets. He wants her undivided attention—he doesn't want her to focus on anything else but him. Instead of saying so, Haruka preserves an unbroken silence.
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Rin jogs along the path without even breaking a sweat. He actually enjoys this late evening's jog. Especially with the current view to hold his interest; Mizuki, sitting at the shrine steps, armed with a white towel and a sports drink.
"I knew you'd pass here sooner or later," she smiles easily this time as she approaches him, which isn't difficult after seeing Rin's terrific torso with a lovely expanse of shoulders. She likes his legs, too. Well-muscled thighs and calves.
"Didn't I tell you to stay indoors? You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up." He approaches her carefully, as if she might be an easily startled animal—which he supposes she is.
Rin reaches out for the goods, his fingers grazing hers, and he tries to ignore the sensations prickling a path from his knuckles to shoulder. He greedily gulps down most of the bottle's content. Mizuki smiles once more, and she adds, "Nice sweatshirt," in hopes of distracting him, before she breathes, "I'm fine, no need to worry."
"You don't sound fine. Thanks," he adds automatically. "It's my lucky shirt. Gou gave it to me."
"Oh yes, I remember! I wanted to buy you one and she threatened to tie my legs in a knot. It's a nice shirt. She has good taste."
"Of course she does. She's my sister." Rin offers a brief smile that falls away again as he visibly realizes Mizuki has succeeded in distracting him. She might be bad at lying, but she's skilled at the art of distraction. "Okay, what's wrong." He scowls now, more in concern than anger. "You shouldn't pretend like everything is alright."
"You wouldn't care."
"You're a friend, so of course I'd care. Just tell me what's wrong."
Mizuki shakes her head without speaking.
"Someone bothering you?" It interests him to know who dares to upset her, and he won't stand for it. "Is it Haru?" She shakes her head again. Rin detects the weariness in those hazel eyes, the sadness at the corners of the now unsmiling mouth.
"You're not sick, are you?" he asks, afraid that she might be suffering from an illness. Yet once more Mizuki shakes her head. "Oh for fuck's sake," Rin half shouts, "Just tell me!"
Her shoulders slump. She approaches the stone steps, sitting down. Then, she straightens her shoulders again quickly. She knows the value of putting a smile on a sad face—it makes you feel happy after a while.
"I didn't make the cut." She pauses for a beat, then says, "They're keeping me as a replacement in case Akimoto-san can't make it." Her eyes fill to the brim with tears, and even though she manages to blink them back she suddenly seems so fragile that Rin's heart goes out to her.
That's not good, he tells himself. He makes a point of staying as detached as he can from people. It goes a long way towards helping him maintain on course to reach his goal.
"I'm sorry," he mutters. When Mizuki nods, he can tell she's trying hard not to let her tears escape. After giving her a few seconds, he sits down beside her and says, "You did your best."
"You're the only one who knows about... that I didn't..." Her voice ebbs away and she shakes her head. "I can't tell my parents. They'll be so disappointed."
Rin gazes at her and a sense of protectiveness goes through him. He's holding her close, so close, pulling her away from her depressive thoughts. Simultaneously, she wants to turn in his arms and bury closer, nestle in and let the warm strength of his body wash over her. With his arm near her waist, he's not touching her too intimately.
I want more. Dare I?
Of course not...
"Don't doubt yourself, alright? You got me this sports drink. I worship you."
She snorts. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
"I hope this Akimoto guy gets so sick he can't possibly leave the house."
"That's just mean."
"Okay, how about he breaks his leg in an unfortunate accident."
"How can you even say that with a straight face?"
"Try it," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "You'll feel better."
She takes a moment, then decides to just go with it. "I hope his parents ground him for at least a week?"
"You're too softhearted. Don't be afraid to be more violent."
"I hope he dies," she suddenly says with a straight face.
"That's too violent!"
Mizuki draws an imaginary halo around her head and bats her lashes like a movie star. "Me? Violent?" Enchanted, his lips curve and he laughs. It seems there might be a playful little devil ready to bust out of all that innocence.
"It's good to hear you laugh," she teases. His laughter fades, although it strikes him funny how a word or two from Mizuki can turn his mood from happy to sad and everything in between. He crushes the empty bottle in his hand resembling the emptiness in his heart.
Sure he's making a name for himself. But at what cost? So far, nothing he achieved had erased the guilt he lives with every day. Deep down, he fears getting closer to Mizuki will only make it worse.