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Haru didn’t know how he managed to pull himself out of the pool. He didn’t know how he was standing, or how he just swam at a world-record-breaking pace. One moment he was diving into the water, the next he was gasping for air, dumbstruck that Japan had won the medley relay for worlds.
Beads of water slipped down his skin, the feeling fading the closer it got to his extremities. On trembling legs, he took a careful step. A tingling numbness seeped out from deep within his calves. He’d pushed himself too hard. The drive to surpass Albert—to not let his team down—drove him here; ignoring every warning signal that screamed at him not to exert himself like this again. He’d insisted he was fine to swim, knowing that this was sure to happen once more. That he would push his body to the breaking point, leaving himself to wait for the moment his legs would inevitably give out, unable to support his weight anymore.
Over the countless training sessions leading up to now, he’d grown used to this feeling. The fruitless chase to catch his breath, the pins and needles in his feet. Usually, he could make it to a bench before the fatigue would catch up to him. But given the fact that he’d just exerted himself to this point for the second time in the span of a few hours, he knew he only had a handful moments more of being upright. Even for the level of exertion Haru had put forth, his heart was beating far too quickly, not daring to slow since he climbed out of the pool.
The other relay members came running toward him, their faces beaming with triumph. Right. This was their collective victory, their moment. They didn’t know he was on the brink of collapse, or the impending consequence of what he just did.
Rin was first to throw an arm around his shoulders, then Ikuya. Their skin felt so warm in comparison to his own, even more of a contrast to the icy chill in his feet. Even stoic Sousuke joined the group opposite Haru, forming a four-way embrace with a rare softness to his typically stiff expression.
For a moment, Haru forgot about the numbness, getting lost in the others looking at each other with admiration. Whatever congratulatory words they said were drowned out by cheering that hadn’t let up since Haru emerged from the water, but it didn’t matter. It was over. They won. The joy pouring out of them was infectious. Laughter erupted from deep within Haru’s core, an emotional release pulled out of him at the realization that it was all over.
His grip on Rin and Ikuya’s shoulders weakened. Every huff of air expelled more hidden weights that had been holding Haru down—expectations he’d carried with him that had grown to the size of a mountain so tall it was hidden by the clouds.
He was practically floating.
Until he wasn’t.
Haru’s knees gave out like hinges without a purpose. Gravity shoved him down. He slipped from beneath the warmth of Rin and Ikuya’s arms, crumpling into a heap on the ground.
The constant cheering fell into gasps and hushed murmurs.
“Haru?!” Rin was the first one to his side, appearing as nothing more than a smudge of dusty maroon that blocked the stadium lights. “Haru, what’s wrong?!”
His voice was shaking, almost panicked. He scooped Haru beneath the shoulders, propping him up with his knee along his lower back. Haru could hardly feel his touch. There was pressure where Rin’s hand gripped him on the shoulder, but he couldn’t feel just how deep his fingers were digging in, or the sharpness of his nails gouging crescent marks into his skin.
In the absence of his own weight, Haru’s legs were trembling, almost twitching. That icy numbness continued crawling up toward his waist. His eyes drifted to the other two figures in front of him, hardly able to make out Sousuke and Ikuya’s faces.
“Haru,” Rin sharply urged, demanding his waning attention. The fingers in Haru’s shoulder dug in even harder. “Are you okay?!”
“Yeah.”
The word sighed out of him, a listless lie.
It was a reflex more than anything. Rin’s question was pointless. Haru knew he could feel the hammering of his heart through the knee pressed into his back, his heaving breaths through the arm along his shoulders. Though Rin’s eyes had been fixed on Haru’s since he’d fallen, he was sure he saw the involuntary spasms in his legs too.
Still, Haru didn’t want Rin to worry—he didn’t want anyone to worry. He clung to consciousness as best he could for their sake.
Black spots threatened to swallow the blur of Rin’s face. Haru blinked them away, the brief clarity revealing tears on Rin’s lash lines threatening to spill. Rin would blame himself for this—apparently, he already was. But this was no one’s doing but Haru’s own.
Ryuji had warned him countless times about the dangers of overexertion, and Haru ignored him knowing full well this would happen. It was a sacrifice he’d been easily willing to make. Everyone had come together and supported him every step of the way, making their collective dream come true. Haru had been hellbent in preventing anything from stopping them from achieving that.
The floor quaked as a horde of footsteps thundered toward them. One by one, blobs of his other friends came into view, crowding around the side opposite Rin. Chirps of his name came from the group, each one helping to tether Haru to reality for a little while longer.
But soon, the chatter from the crowd became muffled along with the repeated calls of his name. It was as if Haru had been dunked underwater, severed from everyone on the surface. He couldn’t fight the darkness encroaching his view of Rin any longer. His eyelids sagged, exhaustion tugging them closed like a weight.
Even as the last fragments of his friends’ voices faded into nothing, Haru wasn’t afraid. He knew that whenever he’d open his eyes again, he wouldn’t be alone. Someone would be quick to call him an idiot. Most would probably try to take some of the blame for what happened. One thing was a certainty, though. Rin would be right by his side, pretending not to cry.