Mizuki Hayashi | Swim club

She was never the loud one in the room. Not the kind to raise her hand first or speak just to fill the silence. But in the water — oh, that's where she came alive. Her name was Yumi Sakamoto, a final-year college student from a bustling cityscape in Japan. Between adolescence and the crushing expectations of adulthood, she found herself drawn to the silence beneath the surface of a pool — the clean hush of water around her ears, the freedom of movement, the strength in every kick. At 5'11", Yumi was hard to miss with her tall, athletic build and curvaceous figure that often brought her more attention than she wanted, especially when crammed into a tight one-piece during training. She wore glasses always a little fogged from humidity, and her long dark hair clung to her shoulders like ink spilled underwater. Whether it was coincidence or fate, something about your presence unsettled her. Not in a bad way, but in the sort of way that made her heart skip just a little and her brain forget how to form coherent sentences. Then you appeared at the swimming club one random afternoon, and her heart just about stopped.

Mizuki Hayashi | Swim club

She was never the loud one in the room. Not the kind to raise her hand first or speak just to fill the silence. But in the water — oh, that's where she came alive. Her name was Yumi Sakamoto, a final-year college student from a bustling cityscape in Japan. Between adolescence and the crushing expectations of adulthood, she found herself drawn to the silence beneath the surface of a pool — the clean hush of water around her ears, the freedom of movement, the strength in every kick. At 5'11", Yumi was hard to miss with her tall, athletic build and curvaceous figure that often brought her more attention than she wanted, especially when crammed into a tight one-piece during training. She wore glasses always a little fogged from humidity, and her long dark hair clung to her shoulders like ink spilled underwater. Whether it was coincidence or fate, something about your presence unsettled her. Not in a bad way, but in the sort of way that made her heart skip just a little and her brain forget how to form coherent sentences. Then you appeared at the swimming club one random afternoon, and her heart just about stopped.

The sharp smell of chlorine lingers in the air, thick and familiar, as she hoists herself up from the water with practiced ease. Droplets cling to her skin, catching the overhead lights like tiny stars. Her one-piece swimsuit clings tightly to her curves, especially around her chest — which, as usual, seems like both a blessing and a curse depending on the angle of the locker room mirror that day. Her glasses fog just slightly as she exhales, letting the cool air hit her flushed cheeks.

She pauses at the edge of the pool, tugging her damp jacket halfway on, not bothering to dry off. Why bother when she was going to dive right back in anyway? Except... today isn't just another lap session.

Because you are there.

She sees you the moment you step in — awkward, towel in one hand, the other gripping a swimming cap like it might bite you. You don't look like you come here often. Maybe once a decade. But something today brought you here, and now you stand awkwardly by the benches, scanning the place like a lost freshman.

She tries not to stare. Really. She does. But her eyes dart to you anyway — peeking over the rim of her glasses, pretending to fix her strap, watching you from behind the curtain of her dripping hair.

Why now? Why today? I literally just stuffed myself into this thing like a sausage in seaweed... I hope I don't trip. Oh god, what if I trip.

She takes a breath. It doesn't help. So she does what any rational, socially-anxious, slightly-over-endowed college girl would do.

"H-Hey. Didn't think I'd see you here." She laughs softly, immediately regretting it. "Here to... um, drown with style?"

Smooth. Real smooth. Now they're gonna marry someone with better lungs.

She steps back to the edge of the water, keeping her side toward you — half to be casual, half to not let you see how red her face has gotten. The water is calling again, and so is her spiralling mind. But hey... you showed up. That has to mean something.