Cold air bit into Mizuki’s bare shoulders, raising goosebumps along her pale skin.
Shivering, she clutched the ruined cello bow to her chest like a shield.
Chlorinated water dripped from her hair, tapping rhythmically against the tiled floor of the darkened pool room.
Heavy silence pressed down on her, broken only by the frantic beat of her own heart.
Panic clawed at her throat, suffocating her as she stared at the heavy metal exit doors.
Locked.
Someone had deliberately turned off the lights and sealed her inside.
Worst of all was the memory of what she had seen right before the darkness fell.
Crimson residue from a handprint on the high observation window seemed to glow in the dim light.
It was fresh. Wet. A silent scream frozen in red paint, or worse, blood.
Mizuki squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the image away.
Water was supposed to be her sanctuary, her safe haven from the world.
Instead, it had become a cage, trapping her with her worst nightmares.
Wooden fibers of the cello bow in her hands felt heavy, its snapped strings dangling like dead nerves.
How did it end up at the bottom of the pool?
Why was she the one who had to find it?
Footsteps echoed from the corridor outside, shattering her spiraling thoughts.
Heavy, deliberate clicks of leather shoes on polished concrete drew closer.
Mizuki held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Every muscle in her body went rigid.
She backed up until her heels touched the very edge of the deep end, ready to dive back in if she had to.
Keys rattled, metallic and sharp, echoing through the empty space.
A heavy click cut through the stillness, and the metal door groaned backward.
Bright light spilled into the darkened pool area, forcing her to squint against the sudden glare.
"Ah, there you are," a smooth, melodic voice said.
Standing in the doorway was a tall figure silhouetted against the bright hallway.
Ren, the school’s beloved student council president, stepped inside with an easy grace.
His uniform was immaculate, not a single crease marring the dark fabric of his blazer.
"I thought I heard someone splashing around after hours," he said, stepping closer.
His golden hair seemed to catch every stray glint of light, making him look almost angelic in the gloomy room.
"I got locked in," Mizuki managed to say, forcing a weak smile onto her face.
Her lips trembled, the muscles in her face straining to maintain her usual cheerful facade.
"The lights just went out, and the door..."
"Mihama Academy has old wiring," Ren interrupted gently, his smile warm and perfectly symmetrical.
"And the automatic locks can be quite temperamental. You must be freezing."
He stepped forward, reaching into a leather bag slung over his shoulder.
From it, he pulled a thick, folded object.
Moving directly into her personal space, he draped the heavy fabric over her trembling shoulders and patted her arms.
A rich, expensive scent of sandalwood instantly overwhelmed the harsh smell of chlorine.
It was a heavy, comforting weight, but it felt like a velvet leash.
"Thank you," Mizuki whispered, pulling the warmth tight against her chest.
"I really appreciate it. I was starting to think I’d be sleeping here."
"We can't have our star transfer student freezing on her very first day," Ren said.
His eyes, a deep, unreadable brown, locked onto hers.
"You have your introductory homeroom in twenty minutes, don't you?"
"How did you—"
"I review the files of all incoming students," he answered smoothly, cutting her off with a soft chuckle.
"It is my duty as president to ensure everyone integrates perfectly."
Mizuki felt a strange prickle of unease at the back of her neck.
His politeness was flawless, yet there was something incredibly calculated about the way he stood, blocking her path to the exit.
"I see," she said, plastering her signature bright grin across her face.
"Well, you're a lifesaver, Ren-senpai. I should probably go get changed so I'm not late."
She tried to step past him, but he didn't move.
He stood like a solid, immovable wall.
"You swim beautifully, Mizuki," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register.
"Oh, thank you," she laughed, though the sound was hollow.
"Water is basically my second home. I've been swimming since I was a toddler."
"Yes, I saw," Ren murmured.
He tilted his head, his gaze scanning her face with terrifying intensity.
"Though, at one point, you stopped. You looked so heavy in the water. Just like a sinking stone."
Cold sweat broke out beneath the dampness of her skin.
The sandalwood scent suddenly felt suffocating, clogging her nostrils.
"What did you say?" she whispered.
"Just an observation," Ren replied, his perfect smile returning instantly, as if he hadn't just shattered her composure.
"Your way of diving is desperate. Like you're trying to find something that can never be brought back up."
Mizuki’s breath hitched, her lungs freezing.
Her mind screamed at her to run, but her legs felt like lead.
He knew.
How could he possibly know?
The details of her mother's tragic drowning had been tightly locked away, buried under layers of move-ins and school transfers.
Her mother had gone under in the middle of a family vacation, a silent struggle in a lake that looked as flat as glass.
Mizuki had been right there on the dock, too frozen to jump, too young to understand until it was too late.
She spent the rest of her life trying to become the fastest swimmer, trying to make sure she could save anyone.
And now, this perfect stranger was digging up the grave she had spent years burying.
"My mother..." she started, then stopped herself, forcing her lips to curve upward again.
"I just like to challenge myself, that's all. I'm faster than I look."
"I'm sure you are," Ren said.
He reached out, his fingers brushing a wet strand of hair away from her forehead.
His touch was ice-cold.
"But speed won't save you if you dive too deep," he whispered.
She flinched slightly but forced herself to stand her ground.
She was the saver, the strong one.
She couldn't let some school idol see her break.
"I can hold my breath for a very long time," she countered, her voice shaking despite her best efforts.
"We shall see," Ren said, letting his hand drop.
He gestured toward the locker room exit.
"Come. Let me escort you to the changing area. We wouldn't want you to wander into any more locked rooms."
Walking beside him felt like walking next to a predator.
Every step she took was shadowed by his tall frame.
He kept his hands clasped behind his back, walking with a calm, military precision that contrasted sharply with her hurried, shivering steps.
"The academy has a lot of history," Ren said conversationally as they entered the hallway.
"Some of it is quite dark. I suggest you stay away from the older wings after hours."
"Dark history?" Mizuki asked, trying to keep her tone light.
"Like ghost stories?"
"Something like that," Ren replied.
"Students here have a habit of... disappearing. Or breaking. Mihama demands perfection, and those who cannot handle the weight tend to drown under it."
His choice of words made her stomach twist into painful knots.
She clutched the towel tighter, wishing she could rub the sandalwood scent out of her skin.
"I'm pretty resilient," she said, looking straight ahead. "I don't break easily."
"That is what I like about you," Ren said.
The sheer casualness of the confession made her pause near the row of metal lockers.
They stopped in front of her assigned locker, number 114.
"Here we are," Ren said, stepping back slightly to give her space.
"I will wait out here while you change."
"You don't have to do that," Mizuki said quickly.
"I can find my way to homeroom. You must be busy."
"It is no trouble at all," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I insist. It would be terrible if you got lost again."
Sighing internally, she unlocked her locker.
She grabbed her dry uniform, her hands trembling as she pulled it out.
Metal hinges creaked as the locker door swung open, revealing her neatly folded clothes and school bag.
Everything looked normal.
Yet, as she reached inside, she noticed a strange dampness on the metal shelf.
"Is something wrong?" Ren asked from behind her.
He had stepped closer, his shadow stretching over her locker.
"No," Mizuki said quickly, shielding the locker's interior with her body.
"Just... dropped my pen. I'll be quick."
She gathered her clothes and darted into the changing cubicle, locking the wooden door behind her.
Peeling off her wet swimsuit felt like stripping away a layer of armor.
She stood in the cramped cubicle, shivering as she dried herself with the sandalwood-scented towel.
It was incredibly soft, almost unnaturally so.
It felt like a trap wrapped around her body.
Why did he mention a sinking stone?
Nobody at this school was supposed to know about her mother.
She had spent two years running from that day, running from the sight of the dark, murky lake.
Flashing red lights of the ambulance still haunted her dreams.
She remembered the cold, lifeless hand she had failed to pull to safety.
Mizuki closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory.
She forced her lungs to expand, breathing in the expensive cologne scent of the towel.
"I am fine," she whispered to herself.
"I am Mizuki. I am fast. I am going to be okay."
She quickly pulled on her white button-down shirt, buttoning it with trembling fingers.
She slipped into the pleated skirt, adjusting the collar of her Mihama Academy uniform.
Stepping out of the cubicle, she felt marginally more put together, though her damp hair still clung to her neck.
Ren was waiting exactly where she had left him.
He hadn't moved an inch, standing like a statue against the drab locker room wall.
"Much better," he said, his eyes scanning her from head to toe.
"The uniform suits you."
"Thanks," Mizuki said, stuffing her wet swimsuit into a plastic bag and throwing it into her backpack.
"Let's go before we're late."
They walked down the silent corridor together.
The school was massive, built with high, vaulted ceilings and cold, stone walls that made every whisper echo.
"You should join the swim club formally," Ren noted as they approached the main courtyard.
"As the president, I can fast-track your application. We need someone with your... drive."
"I'll think about it," Mizuki said, her instincts warning her to keep her distance from him.
"Please do," he murmured. "I would hate for your talent to go to waste."
They reached the grand double doors leading to the main academic building.
Morning sun was finally breaking through the heavy clouds, casting long, sharp shadows across the stone path.
"Well, this is my stop," Mizuki said, pointing toward the freshman wing.
"Thanks again for the towel, Ren-senpai."
She turned to walk away, eager to escape his suffocating presence.
"Mizuki," he called out.
Stopping, she turned back to look at him.
Ren stood in the bright sunlight, his golden hair glowing.
He reached into his pocket, his expression perfectly calm, almost serene.
"You dropped this," he said.
He opened his gloved hand.
---
Sliding from his fingers, a piece of paper fluttered to the stone floor.
It was a soggy, handwritten note, smeared with water and dark ink.
Mizuki recognized the paper instantly.
It was a page torn from her personal notebook, which she had left locked inside her locker.
She stared at it, her heart stopping.
Ren gave her one last, polite nod, his perfect smile firmly in place.
"Have a wonderful first day," he said softly.
As Ren turns to leave, he drops a soggy, handwritten note from Mizuki's locked locker that reads: 'I saw what you did to your mother.'