nitori aiichiro

Shoulders wilting, Rin barely hears the start of his objection. It’s only when he chances a look to his face and sees him actually eyeing the pool that he listens properly. He… wants to try again? Oh. Oh, of course he does. Rin almost feels foolish for taking on such a fragile assumption.  Since when did his skin get so thin?  And since when did he worry so much about what Nitori thinks?  It doesn’t matter.  Progress matters.  Rin can’t help but perk up without realizing it.  ”Oh. You… want to?”

He hesitates, holds his head up a little higher, and offers over a hand palm-up. “Slowly… is fine. Yeah.” He may thrive in rushes of speed and thrills of adrenaline, but he can appreciate the slow things too. He’s starting to realize that slow is… good. Especially when it comes to mending what might be broken.

Even if he isn't sure of his future as a swimmer, he wants to show Rin that swimming--especially with him--isn't something he's given up on just yet. He'd balked when Rin had initially pushed him, unable to resist the yank of nerves and the inferiority that's been gnawing at his chest all year, but the exercise ahead of him now is something he suggested himself. Not to mention it's so simple, even a child could do it.

Releasing Rin's hand, he sits down on the edge of the pool and slides his legs into the water. Then he pushes off the side with his hands and submerges himself, letting the water close all the way over his head before he stands, one hand on the edge of the pool for support.

And, for a minute, Rin just stares off at Nitori perched back on the block. It’s as though his thoughts are slowly catching up with some kind of basic attempt at empathy that tells him this… isn’t going to work. Of course not. It’s not as though the water has always been the solution for him, either. Being vague and poetic isn’t the answer here. Haru might preach the water’s techniques as a magical “cure-all,” but Rin’s never been the type to put his confidence in anything less than cold, hard fact. It’s almost insulting to expect Nitori to settle for blind faith like that. Why… had he, then? His heart sinks slow like a stone to think it over as he slumps against the edge of the pool. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He really, really doesn’t. He must look like such an ass, going on about hard work like it’s something he can show him in just one night when they shouldn’t even be out of the room at this hour. So, exhaling a slow breath through his nose, he lowers his goggles back on over his eyes so he can swim back to him.

It’s not a loud, splashing front crawl or butterfly. Most of the return length is spent beneath the surface; quiet, sleek, a languid dolphin kick and soft breaths in between. He doesn’t even say a word when he reaches the wall. And he manages to even pull himself out of the water and onto the deck in silence as Nitori stands from the block.

He still manages to avert his eyes when Rin approaches him, though; after all, it's embarrassing that Rin went to all this effort and he didn't even respond properly. He'd wanted to; every muscle in his body had prepared itself, then suddenly froze when it came time to commit. But Rin doesn't sound angry with him, or even upset, so finally Nitori plucks up the nerve to look back at him over his shoulder, cheeks flushing.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, eyes watering. "I--I wanted to, too. I don't want to just leave it--Matsuoka-senpai, I--"

He realises his hands have clenched into fists at his sides, and forces them to relax again. "Sorry for... for spoiling it. If..."

"So swim with me," he answers finally, stare still fixed ahead on the pool. "One spurt to the other end to get us started. Freestyle, no holding back. Go.”

Without warning, he lunges forward and his body straightens into a sleek dive plunging smooth through the surface like a lance.  Everything is clean, strong movement and the rush of water in his ears.  When he surfaces from a few powerful kicks to start his stroke, his first breath is almost one of relief that opens his lungs rather than clenches them tight. He wonders if Nitori’s doing his best to stick close. If he wants this as badly as he says he does, he’ll be there. It doesn’t matter where down the lane that happens to be.

It’s only when his palm hits the wall that Rin checks back for him. One length isn’t even enough to have him out of breath, but he’s curious to see if the right encouragement pushes Nitori a little harder than usual.  He’s an endurance swimmer, so his specialties aren’t in sprints like these, but maybe he’ll hit a spark of inspiration in the thrill of the chase.

Or maybe not. Rin realizes quietly that he may not understand Nitori as much as he’d like to think when he hasn’t exactly gone out of his way to get to know him as well as he should at this point.  The thought shifts guilty in his head, but he’s not intent on sulking tonight. Instead, he holds a hand up to offer a silent high-five for him when he reaches the wall.  

But then he sees Rin dive out of the corner of his eye and he knows it's pointless. He's just too fast and too much and too everything and Nitori suddenly doesn't know why he ever tried to think he was worth his time. Then again, whatever had been going on with them this year didn't exactly reinforce this idea. Both of them had been hormonal and stupid. Nitori had known that, but he'd wanted to do it anyway.

So, he sits down.

He watches Rin swim his length and sits down on the block with his knees tucked up and his head resting on his folded arms. He wants to--he wants to so much--but not like this. Swimming doesn't help right now. The water just makes him feel even slower and stupider than usual. Of course, he doesn't blame Rin for thinking a race will solve his problems... since for him it usually does.

He hears him lifting out of the water, and he gets off the block, sucking in his breath.

Done with warm-ups, Rin stays squatting there to cast a look down on him where he’s still mid-stretch. He might not be too typically sensitive, but he can hear the conflict knit into the hesitance of his friend’s voice. He wants this, he wants it bad, but he’s stuck holding himself back.  It reminds him of how hard it’d been to pull himself out of the pool back at regionals. The water had been so thick, so heavy; a smothering weight swallowing him whole rather than moving with him sleek and fluid and effortless in powerful momentum. He doesn’t want Nitori to experience rock bottom like that. Especially not when he sees him slumped forward, slender shoulders exposed pale to the moonlight through the glass ceiling.

A hand rests on one of those shoulders, just a brushing touch of fingertips that seems strangely sheepish and soft for someone so sharp. “Look, if It’s not something you want to work hard for, it’s not something you should be doing in the first place. But if it is something you want…” His touch lingers, even cupping a squeeze at the base of his neck before it draws away and he straightens to stand. “…Then working for it will pay off. That’s no waste.”

He frowns a little and approaches the starting blocks as that same hand props on the jut of his hip.  He’s never sure if he’s any good at helping people, let alone encouraging them to fight tooth and nail for their dreams, but this is something he knows.  He can feel it in every muscle, every bone, every heartbeat.  He’s living proof.

...How can he argue with that kind of conviction? Especially when it might be the first time he's directed it at him. His cheeks flush and he straightens out of his stretch, going to hover just behind Rin's starting block. But when Rin motions to the block beside him, he freezes again.

He can't race Rin. There's no way he's anywhere near his level. It'd be like a cheetah racing a housecat, or a falcon racing a sparrow, or... or something like that. 

...But Rin wants him to get on the starting block. And Nitori wants to swim with him more than anything. So, nervously, he dons his own goggles, climbs up onto the block next to him and gives him a shaky smile.

Fingers curl over the door handle only to slacken with Nitori’s new question. This is where old routine finds itself at odds with new changes. The troubled Rin from before would’ve snapped something sharp and dismissive; would’ve been annoyed with the self-doubt that’s nearly reminiscent of his own. But this new Rin — the one who’s found his way again after stumbling lost for much too long — is trying to be more understanding. A part of him is still tempted to keep guarded and lash out; almost does. He manages to remain calmly quiet though, and exhales a slow sigh between his teeth to check himself.

"I’m not holding myself back. Not for you, not for anyone. That’s not something you need to be worrying about." Not any more. He doesn’t sound irritated, speaking carefully as though to make sure it all comes out right rather than in another disgruntled snarl.  There’s even a thread of concern woven into how his voice softens next. “If you’re serious about training, then you’ll be fine. It’s… not skill that’s important.”

He goes on to nudge the door open and slide his shoes off in the process. He’s already shrugging his jacket aside somewhere just to be on the pool deck again. Nothing quite clears his mind like the cool wash of blue dancing on the walls and the distinct smell of chlorine.

"Hard work," he grunts as he starts with basic stretches to seem more occupied than awkward. A few vertebrae in his neck pop loudly. "It’s hard work that puts you on a higher level.  You’re not holding anyone back that way.” (Especially not yourself.) “Er… I’ll show you what I mean. If you want.”

All his heart had gone into Rin's training, and that hadn't done much good for either of them. This next year would be different. Maybe.

He mimics Rin's stretch, eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry for complaining. It's just that--w-well, I want to do you proud, but I also want to be realistic. I'm probably not going to be on your college team, or even--or even your relay team."

"I don’t know why you’re talking like that.  Haru’s not the only friend I have."  Not that this is something he could always say with confidence.  

He moves closer to scoop up a littered can by the recycling bin like it’s another thing that’s been bothering him since they stopped for a drink.  Instead of tossing it in right away, however, he crumples it in his fist.  The aluminum relents easily under the clench of his fingers — soothingly so, like it’s a reassurance to know that though his emotional conflicts are still something of a challenge, his physical strength is well and good.  And squeezing Nitori’s hand instead isn’t something he feels he should want as much as he does.

He drops the crushed can into the bin finally, gaze intent on his roommate’s face as his chin tilts upwards.  ”We decided on joint practices this season and you’re coming with me. Don’t try and weasel out of it, either.  We have a spot for you in the changing room.”

Rin seems to want to keep moving, and Nitori understands; after all, he was the one who'd wanted to move along before they attracted attention. He jogs briefly to catch up with him, falling into step beside him finally.

"Sorry," he repeats, softly. He wants to look up at him, to catch his eye and deliver his words right into his face, but all of a sudden it's all but impossible. He swallows, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "I'm fine, really! I'm glad that you're feeling better and... and thank you for saying you'd train with me. I really appreciate it."

Perhaps it's just that he needs some time to get used to this new Rin. Even if he'd always known that he would be like this, underneath the thorns he'd wrapped himself in for those long few months, it's still a surprise to look up and see him smiling--smiling openly, honestly. Rin must be still getting used to it himself, so he hasn't wanted to trouble him. Only...