At least three times a week Mizuki finds herself standing before huge piles of dirty dishes—dishes for soy sauce, dishes for pickles, bento boxes, rice bowls, soup bowls and so on. No matter how hard she works, she can never seem to make a dent in that pile. This time she considers it a welcome distraction from her brother's unfortunate fall in the water.
She doesn't have too much time to think.
Thinking is bad.
Thinking is very, very bad.
The only downside is the swim club members dropping by often to eat, and it's not like she can forbid her friends from coming over when Dad is on good terms with the boys. They earned his respect and trust through hard work, and that's not easy to accomplish.
What's even more of a miracle, Dad practically took Haruka under his wing and taught him an incredible amount along the way: techniques, tricks―cheats, even―that Dad incorporates instinctively into his cooking every day, and he never once made the boy scrub the toilet during his shift.
"Lucky him," Mizuki grumbles, lazily rinsing another plate and moving on to the next one.
Nagisa leads the group as he marches into Suzuran's ramen shop after swim practice, dizzy with teenage hunger. They sit down and each order the usual, Rei still scanning the menu for something he hasn't tried before.
Mizuki can hear them slurp loudly and enjoying the meal wholeheartedly. She's wearing the uniform; a beige happi coat with arrow print, black trousers and matching apron. Armed with a tray she quickly makes a beeline for a vacant table in the back. Covering the right side of her face with the tray she successfully avoids being spotted by Haruka and the others.
With her heartbeat pounding in her ears, clammy hands, and stomach in a tight knot, she piles up the dishware quickly and efficiently. She's about to trot on her way when Haruka's familiar voice reaches her ears and startles her so badly she drops the tray with dishes on the floor.
Mizuki gives him a I-hope-you're-happy look―which he plainly is, judging by the amused sparkle in his eyes―and then focuses on cleaning up the mess. Makoto stoops down and gives her a helping hand, which she appreciates.
"How is little Daichi doing?"
The happiness she feels is replaced with regret in three seconds flat. Heat floods her cheeks, and shame tingles down her neck. "He's alright, I suppose."
She never asked her parents about him. In fact, the moment she got home from the hospital, Mizuki went straight to her room and shut the door. Once inside the relative privacy of her bedroom, she placed headphones over her ears and immersed herself in music.
Mom knocked loudly on her door, but Mizuki ignored it. For whatever reason, her phobia wasn't going away and she would be the one dealing with it.
This wasn't a problem she could pass off to her friends to solve for her. Her parents couldn't help either. Despite their efforts to overcome her phobia together with family and friends, she has to do this alone, and that was the most frightening thing of all.
Mizuki's cell phone was buzzing on her bed. Another missed call from Gou. When Mom came into her room, Mizuki reluctantly removed the headphones. "What?" she demanded.
"Why won't you come down?"
"I don't want to talk to anyone." She was seventeen. Rebelling against her parents from time to time was only natural.
"I'm calling your father..."
Mizuki closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear it. "Mom, please, let me be by myself. Just for a while."
"I can't do this," Mom sobbed, catching Mizuki off guard. "My sweet little boy is hospitalized, and my daughter won't even talk to me anymore," she covered her face with one hand and began to cry, then excused herself and left the room.
Mizuki didn't know why she was being so mean to her mother—to everyone. She should be there for her family, and she should know her friends were there to help her through this.
"You can always watch us swim," Makoto says presently. "It's nice to see you on the sidelines cheering us on." Her eyes don't lift to his, instead staying properly focused on the floor, fidgeting uncomfortably on the spot. Surely the kind-hearted captain will understand if she tells him those days are over.
"It wasn't your fault."
Mizuki looks over at Haruka. She doesn't want him or anyone else to say those words right now. The accident is still fresh on her mind, with too many facts to pin the blame on her. Still, she can't ignore him. Forcing a pleasant smile, Mizuki nods.
"You're so perfect—Daichi should be proud to have such a responsible and kind big sister."
Her mouth begins to twitch.
"He shouldn't have been wandering around on his own," Haruka's calm, velvet voice is making her blood boil. "It was his fault, not yours."
Knots tie up Mizuki's stomach. She lowers her head and shakes it back and forth.
"You and Rin had more pressing matters to talk about, so it's natural you'd send him away. Am I right?" Rei blushes with guilt; he quickly confesses that he trailed the pair at the festival.
"Shut up," she snaps abruptly.
Graced with sorrowful eyes, Rei holds his tongue at her command.
"You're acting like a total huffy today, Haru. If I had an Oscar I would hand it over instantly!" The more Haruka stares, the more vexed, annoyed and angry she becomes. "You got Rei to stalk me, and you're making me feel guilty?"
"But it was because of Rin-chan—"
"Shut up, Nagisa!" Her words pierce Nagisa's very heart. She's lost her temper completely. "This has nothing to do with Rin."
"Of course it does," scoffs Haruka. "Rin is only using you to get back at me. There's no way he would have seen you standing if we weren't close. Rin never liked you in the first place; he hates you. You should just join us with swim practice like we've done before."
"That's enough, Haru." Makoto interferes to spare Mizuki's feelings, but the damage is done. Her face is scarlet with anger, her lips quivering, and her whole slender form trembling from head to toe.
"I can't believe I turned him down—for you," Mizuki's hazel eyes glitter with unshed tears. "All because I thought you and me were... what does this all mean, then?" she whispers. "What am I to you?"
There's a pause.
Makoto knows this isn't going to end well, but he also knows there's no stopping Haruka, so he steps back and allows for the boy to speak his mind. Mizuki is not his first crush, but she's his best crush, in his opinion.
"You're someone special, so I love you."
Haruka gazes at the skinny teenager with fire in her eyes who had the courage to face her phobia—for his sake, is what he wants to believe. And he's smitten.
Completely.
Absolutely. Without hesitation or rational thought.
"I hate you," she says in a choked voice, stamping her foot on the floor. "I hate you—I hate you—I hate you—" a louder stamp with each assertion of hatred. "How dare you say such words! How dare you make me feel so guilty! You are a rude, impolite, unfeeling person!"
"You can hate me all you want; it doesn't make me love you any less," Haruka answers casually. But Mizuki continues to face him undauntedly, head up, eyes blazing, hands clenched.
"How dare you say such words?" she repeats vehemently. "I would much rather like to be told I'm a coward and stupid and probably don't have a spark of talent in me. I don't care if you hurt my feelings by saying so! It hurts way more being confessed to after all the horrible things I've done. And I'll never forgive you for it, never, never!"
Mizuki, bursting into tears, casts her apron aside and rushes outside, some of the customers staring in sympathy.
"Well, that went smoothly, Haru," Makoto says with an accusing glare. "You just had to confess to her now?"
"Yeah," Haruka answers slowly. "It's not like I'm asking her to accept my feelings. She doesn't have to. I just felt she should know, that's all.
"Your behavior was uncalled for. Mizuki hasn't been herself since the accident and despite knowing that, you were guilt tripping her into doing what you want her to do—which is swimming after such a heavy experience. You were too hard on her, Haru." Makoto tries not to frown and hopes Haruka won't start making a habit out of this.
"Uh, guys," Nagisa says urgently.
No answer.
"Guys," with greater severity, "Stop gazing into each other's eyes for a second, geez!"
Dad slaps both Haruka and Makoto on the shoulder—which doesn't bode well—and they turn around, Makoto smiling apologetically, to face the furious father.
"I think we need to have a little chat."
The man glares in Haruka's direction with such power and intense focus that it feels as if a pair of lasers are boring holes through his skull.
Oh, boy...
----------
The sound of a door slamming shut somewhere nearby wakes Rin, but Nitori continues to sleep. It takes a moment for Rin to remember where he is, and despite the fatigue still invading his mind, he can't find peace.
Since Mizuki showed up last Sunday, visiting him out of the blue, he feels bad for the way he treated her. He feels so wretched with being on bad terms with her that he wants nothing more than to forget it all, to apologize, and to reconcile with her; he wants to throw the blame on himself and justify her.
I was angry and acted like a complete asshole because of it. Why couldn't I have told her that?
"I can't believe I trusted you!"
He suddenly recalls the words she'd said that stung him most of all. She churned out a lot of words that day. He recalls how her long legs made her school uniform look scandalously short, her knee-socks slumped in coils around her ankles.
"Don't walk away from me," she said.
Rin shrugged and approached her. He sighed as he leaned against the wall, his right foot pressed against it.
"Well?" Mizuki said.
"Well what?" he said. "I don't know what you want from me unless you fucking tell me."
He's taller than her, but not when he slouched like that against the wall. And the more she fumed at him, the more he seemed to slouch away. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his black Samezuka jacket and tilted his head down, like he couldn't stand to even look at her.
His red hair flipped in every direction like he hadn't taken the time to brush it, those few long strands loose in his face—the way he was staring at the ground made them seem longer.
Mizuki always thought he was so, well, pretty. Okay, gorgeous. She almost expected sparkles and flowers to burst out shojo-style, except his lips were turned in a smirk, and the way he crumpled against the wall exuded a smug superiority. Mizuki looked absolutely livid.
"You think I'm stupid?" she asked.
Her eyes were puffy and red, and every now and then her words got all choked up in her throat. She threw a string of questions into the air and they hung there with no reply. She became more frantic, the silence more tense.
Rin shook his head, his maroon hair dancing around.
Mizuki's eyes puffed up and overflowed, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "So it's really true," she said. "You were just using me."
"Yeah," Rin shrugged, which was way too casual a yes. A response like that was downright cruel. Even he knew that.
"What the heck!" she shouted, and he didn't have the heart to laugh; even in this situation, she refused to curse properly. "Did our friendship even mean anything to you?"
Rin straightened to his full height and his gleaming red eyes gazed straight into hers. He took two swaggering steps toward her, bending forward until their lips almost met. Mizuki's eyes widened.
He stood silently for a moment, and she saw a pained look in his eyes. He breathed heavily, his eyes glossy. He started to reach for her chin with his fingers. And then his hand suddenly dropped into his pocket.
"It didn't mean shit to me." You're lying, Rin thought. Why are you lying?
Mizuki looked like she'd been punched in the gut. It was clear to her that he'd just discounted all her suffering, her feelings—the whole friendship. He looked like he didn't give a shit, and that's pretty much what he'd said. Her face turned deep crimson, and her light-brown hair clung to the sides of her snot-streaked face.
Her hands squeezed into fists at her sides. Her gaze of hope turned cold and listless, like a mirror of Rin's face. And then Mizuki lifted her fist and slugged him right in the jaw. She hit him so hard his face twisted to the left.
"I can't believe I trusted you," she spat, and then stormed off.
Presently, a queasy feeling starts to twist in Rin's stomach, like motion sickness. He rubs his cheek at the memory of it all, and he's so deep in thought that he barely notices Nitori standing too close at his bedside so that he hovers over him.
"Are you alright, senpai?" he whispers in the dead of night.
Rin doesn't answer, staring hard at him.
Nitori stares back. "Senpai?"
"I'm fine," he blurts out and gets on his feet, pushing the boy away. He stumbles, just a little, but keeps walking. Nitori sees everything.
"S-senpai!" he says again, hesitant.
"I'm fine, get off my back," he replies and slams the door hard, making Nitori jump up a little.
"You don't sound fine..."