The leader board flashed until the winning team was finalised. In gold writing, the team in first place was Samezuka. A deafening cheer sounded from the other side of the bleachers. Team members were jumping up and down, embracing, high-fiving; all the usual celebratory stuff. Meanwhile, the Iwatobi team stood in shocked silence trying not to look like bad sportsmen. As usual, Nagisa and Makoto took it in their stride. Rei tried to apologise for letting everyone down but Nagisa wouldn't let him get a word in. Haru was stoic and thoughtful, his sharp gaze locked onto the Captain of the opposing team. Although he appeared calm, internally he was struggling, trying to suppress a dark anger that was brooding in his chest. His eyes followed Mikoshiba's every move and his entire body seethed with hatred.
Where had these strong emotions come from? He had no idea. Looking at the leader board once more, Haru thought bitterly that it should have been them. They should have won. All those tireless hours of practising, teaching Rei to swim and going on that boot camp - it was all for nothing. They had nothing to show for their efforts and he felt robbed. For the first time ever, he'd put effort into something, only for it to end in failure.
Haru didn't take the disappointment well at all. He continued swimming with his friends every day but it didn't seem as fun anymore. While his legs and arms carved through the water, his heart remained on the starting blocks. Kou's regimes weren't as stimulating, Rei's clumsiness wasn't as entertaining, Nagisa's laugh wasn't as contagious and even Makoto's smile wasn't as bright. His friends hadn't changed at all, only he had. Towards the end of the year, Haru couldn't swim anymore. It was worse than when he'd hurt Rin. Now he was the one who was hurting.
Haru quit the swim team. The feeling of water on his skin slowly began to feel like acid, prickling with pain and melting his spirit away. Haru avoided having long baths because they were too suffocating and made his head spin. Sometimes when it rained, the uncomfortable feeling of water droplets trickling down his skin made him freeze up and start hyperventilating. Of course, his friends were extremely worried about him. Makoto still walked to school with him every day, carefully avoiding the topic of the swim team. He was Haru's best friend but he was also Captain so quitting wasn't really an option.
The following year, during Haru's final year of high school, he heard news that the swim team finally won at nationals. Unbelievably, this tore at his heart even more. They really didn't need him. Maybe he'd been the one to let them down last time. Haru couldn't understand why they'd want to keep hanging around him if he was so useless. Swimming had been the only thing he was good at, but apparently he wasn't good enough. Gradually he came to the conclusion that he wasn't needed at all and just before graduation, he dropped out of school entirely.
Makoto went out of his way to visit Haru every day, constantly trying to talk some sense into him. Nothing seemed to work but he didn't want to give up. Haru thought Makoto's stubborn attitude wouldn't allow him to terminate the facade of friendship between them, so he did Makoto the favour of doing it for him. Makoto would be better off without him anyway. Haru felt like he'd only hold him back. A short while later, Makoto moved away for university. He tried to keep in contact with Haru, but the boy never answered his calls or replied to his messages. Their friendship crumbled.
Nagisa attempted to fill Makoto's giant shoes. He tried visiting Haru every day no matter how many times he was kicked out. He always brought sweets and talked non-stop, wearing the same bright smile and hoping one day it would rub off, but Haru was so consumed by paranoia and depression that he was convinced he couldn't smile at all. At the end of the next year, Nagisa and Rei both graduated and followed Makoto's suit, moving away for university. Neither of them seemed reluctant to leave in the way Makoto had. They didn't try to stay in contact. Haru found himself alone.
He didn't know if it was preferable this way. It was certainly much quieter and now he wouldn't be a bother to anyone, he wouldn't have to constantly worry about letting people down. For a while, he survived on nothing but the monthly allowance his parents gave him. He wasn't motivated enough to search for a job. He occasionally suffered from mild panic attacks when he saw anything swimming related on TV. One night he saw a news reporter interviewing a young Olympic swimmer named Rin.
Haru's pulse skyrocketed and his breathing became incredibly unstable. All he could hear was muffled sounds from the TV and a high-pitched ringing. He became aware that he was gripping the edge of the sofa so hard his knuckles were white. Somehow he turned the TV off, and it remained that way for a few weeks.
Travel was something unfamiliar to Haru. But seeing Rin's smug, successful face on TV had sparked something in him. More than his phobia of water and the sickening pressure of his constant negative thoughts, he was being driven by raw rage and hatred. He poured hours of researching on the internet into it, and eventually came up with rough locations and vague ideas of schedules of the three boys in particular who had wronged him.
Mikoshiba. Rin. Nitori. If it wasn't for them and their team, Haru might not have turned out the way he had. Competitiveness was a dangerous thing and Haru hadn't realised before, but he'd been holding this grudge for several years now. It was time to stop sitting around idly and start acting.
The money from his parents had been piling up since Haru didn't eat much and he discovered he had more than enough to pay for numerous flights and accommodation. First stop was Tokyo, where Mikoshiba worked at a famous swimming institute. He was first because he was the Captain, the instigator of this entire mess. Haru checked into a cheap hotel about four blocks from the famous school, within walking distance, and he began planning things more seriously. He didn't want to be apprehended before getting to the other two. Every couple of days, he moved hotels but remained within walking distance of the school. A good two weeks were spent researching every single tiny detail of the institute - from opening and closing times to floor layouts to how many security cameras there were. Haru dutifully memorised everything there was to know about the way the building operated, including an observation of some of its key employees. Finally, he figured out a plan. It wasn't perfect, but if he was careful he could pull it off.
He found Mikoshiba's home phone number listed online, which he thought was a sign of arrogance. He tracked down a voice scrambler in the city and bought a disposable cell phone from a random gas station. He called Mikoshiba several times, dialling and hanging up just to test the waters. On the fourth phone call, he used the voice scrambler. All he said was "Samezuka" in an unnaturally deep tone. The next evening, he called again but this time he told Mikoshiba to meet him at the institution alone at 11pm and not to tell anyone where he was going. It was a bluff, but he told Mikoshiba he'd know if any authorities were alerted. Crossing his fingers, he hoped Mikoshiba was high enough on the corporate ladder to be at least be entrusted with a set of keys.
Donning a large black coat, latex gloves and a white face mask, Haru picked up his two bags of tools and set off to meet Mikoshiba. There was a line of hedges tracing the front courtyard of the building and Haru stealthily moved through the shadows, avoiding the CCTV and hiding behind them. He peered through the darkness and watched Mikoshiba approach, taking cautious steps down the paved pathway. He was taller than Haru remembered and his build seemed stronger, more muscular. Haru felt certain Mikoshiba could overpower him if it came down to a fight, so he had to act fast before that happened.
Standing up abruptly, Haru pulled a gleaming silver knife from the left pocket of his coat. "Hello," he greeted in a flat tone, slightly muffled from the face mask. Nothing about his voice or his posture conveyed any hint of friendliness or any sign that he would show mercy. He was stiff and determined and he knew he was giving off an air of a disturbed man but that was fine. "Former Captain of the Samezuka swim team, it's a honour," he continued, closing the distance between them. Mikoshiba tried to turn around, but Haru pressed the pommel of the knife into his back threateningly. "Do you remember me?" he whispered.
"I really have no idea who you are," Mikoshiba admitted. His voice was steady and he sounded tired more than anything, which was a little disappointing because Haru had expected him to be shakier than that. "What's this about?" Haru decided it would be best not to reply. He'd already said too much. He didn't want any kind of audio device picking up his voice. He jabbed the man in the lower back with the pommel of his knife, an indication that he'd better start walking. Haru pushed him to the glass double doors and waited for him to unlock them with a jingling set of keys. He knew there would be three surveillance cameras pointing towards the door, so he angled his face down and hid himself behind Mikoshiba to avoid them.
Silently forcing Mikoshiba through the doors, Haru navigated him through the dark hallways. He'd memorised the floor plan of the building so he knew exactly where he was going. He lead Mikoshiba to the pool room, where a giant Olympic sized pool stretched out before them. The room smelt strongly of chlorine, and the windows high up on the walls let a small amount of moonlight in, which shimmered on the water's surface. It was the perfect place for a crime scene.
"I asked you, what's this about?" Mikoshiba repeated in a harsher, angrier tone disagreed with Haru. He didn't like that at all. He didn't like the illusion that Mikoshiba was in control of this situation. Maybe he'd been Captain of the swim team once, but he wasn't Captain of anything now. He was Haru's first victim and there was no escape no matter what kind of aggressive behaviour he tried to pull.
Without replying, Haru silently removed a small syringe from a metal case in his pocket. He squeezed it once to prevent any air bubbles from entering Mikoshiba's bloodstream, a faint green liquid dripping down the needlepoint. He jabbed Mikoshiba in the thigh, aiming pretty close to one of his main arteries, and the man's eyes fluttered, his legs collapsing beneath him as the chemical instantly took effect. He plummeted to the ground, his cheek hitting the tiled floor with a dull thud and his heart rate slowing almost dangerously. Haru had injected him with a strong tranquilizer he'd stolen from a vet's office a few days earlier. It was a few towns away so hopefully no connection would be made.
While Mikoshiba lay helplessly on the floor, paralysed and unable to move or call out, Haru set things up. He rummaged around in his first bag for a moment, spreading an extra large plastic sheet across the floor, leading up to the very edge of the pool. He dragged Mikoshiba onto it and rearranged his limbs neatly folded by his sides. Aware that he was being followed by Mikoshiba's eyes, he then lined his tools up one by one, exaggerating his movements and precisely placing them all in a tidy row by the edge of the plastic. Clearing his throat dramatically, Haru picked up the first small blade, tilting it so it glinted in the moonlight. He saw Mikoshiba's pupils dilate in a sign of fear, but no matter how hard he tried, no noise would escape his throat.
Haru carved two deep red lines down the length of both of Mikoshiba's arms. The best part about the tranquilisers was that they only isolated the nerves receptors that controlled mobility, leaving the sensation of pain completely intact and unaltered. As droplets of crimson spattered on the plastic sheet, running winding trails down Mikoshiba's arms, Haru knew the man would probably be screaming now if he had the chance. Haru felt like he'd finally won supremacy over this so-called Captain. Haru was finally in control of things.
Taking out a slightly larger, more curved knife, Haru cut a jagged line down the centre of Mikoshiba's plain black T-shirt, barely grazing the tanned skin of his stomach. Tearing his shirt open, Haru began to carve seemingly random and haphazard lines into his flesh, streams of blood flowing freely and staining his gloves, pooling on the plastic around Mikoshiba's sides. The lines eventually began to cross over, forming an image of a dolphin soaked in blood. Tears were spilling uncontrollably from Mikoshiba's eyes but he couldn't even turn his head to look away. Haru discarded that knife now, in favour of the biggest knife in his bag.
Locking eyes with Mikoshiba, Haru nodded once, as if to confirm for him that this was the final assault. Bringing the knife to Mikoshiba's trembling throat, Haru slashed violently, spraying blood across the plastic sheet and onto Haru's coat. Mikoshiba made a choking, gurgling sound as the life literally drained out of his body. The light faded from Mikoshiba's eyes and it was over for him but Haru's work wasn't done yet. He dragged the lifeless Mikoshiba over to the pool. He rolled the man's limp body over the edge and Mikoshiba hit the water with a loud splash, the blood still oozing from his wounds mixing with the water like a red cloud.
Haru didn't have time to pause and admire his handiwork. Blood trickled in thick tendrils, following the crinkles and valleys of the plastic sheet as he carefully rolled it up, wanting to avoid spilling anything on the tiles. Along with the sheet, he gathered up his tools and shoved them back into separate bags. With one last look around the room to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he left Mikoshiba behind and cut through the hallway, navigating towards the exit, a different door from the one he'd entered through.
He stuck closely to the shadows to keep hidden and slipped into a narrow storage room, where he knew there wouldn't be any surveillance cameras. He found an empty metal bucket that was perfect for what he needed and he dumped the bag with the plastic sheet in it. Out of his back pocket, he produced a lighter and then his eyes searched the shelves of cleaning products, looking for something flammable that would simultaneously cleanse the evidence. Finding the high-strength chemical took a few minutes, but he poured a decent amount of it in the bucket and stood back to set it alight. The gloves and face mask gave limited protection because that wasn't their main purpose and he didn't want to accidentally burn himself or inhale the fumes. When the bag and the plastic had all disintegrated into a fine ash, he tipped it down the drain and washed the bucket out with a tamer chemical. Returning everything to its original position, Haru then climbed out the small window and escaped into the calm night.
There was still the matter of the knives and his coat and he had to deal with those problems as quickly as possible. But it was alright because his plan was fairly detailed. Hidden in the shrubs, he stripped his gloves and face mask off and stuffed them in his pockets, hastily turning his coat inside out to hide the blood, but he was also careful not to touch any of the plants in case he left behind traces of thread. From the school, he cut directly through the nearest quiet street and made a B-line for the industrial estate. It was about a 40 minute walk. He'd walked there twice before to scope the place out and found an abandoned warehouse that he could use for disposing of his clothes. He tried to maintain a low profile but still smiled at the few people he passed, acting as casual and unsuspicious as possible. He didn't want to be seen as a shadowy figure that could be a suspect, but just a normal guy out for a walk.
Once he was safe in the industrial estate, certain he hadn't been followed by anyone, Haru stripped his soiled clothes off and shoes and dressed himself in clean clothes he'd previously hidden in the warehouse. He then started a small fire in a metal drum and torched his coat and the rest of his clothes. After that, he only had his bag of knives to dispose of. He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and another face mask, and from the industrial estate he walked all the way back into town, returning to the third hotel he'd stayed at but not the one he was currently checked into.
It was late at night and most people were either asleep or out. Haru couldn't be 100% sure which was which. He made sure the lobby was empty before he picked the lock and broke in, quickly checking behind the desk to see which rooms had been filled. Then he silently crept up the stairs to the rooms he was sure were safe, hugging the wall along the corridor. He picked the lock on the first room, number 204, and slipped inside. Although it was difficult to nagivate in the darkness, he didn't want to flick any of the lights on because it meant he could be spotted. So he felt his way around the room until he located the cupboard. He left the first knife in the cupboard and left the room, moving on to the next vacant room and the next, scattering them over three floors until he'd gotten rid of all his knives.
Since he'd been staying at the hotel at one stage, he knew roughly how things worked. There weren't any security cameras he had to avoid, and tomorrow was garbage day so he'd timed things perfectly. He dumped the now empty bag into the garbage disposal unit and then sneaked out of the hotel, dropping his gloves and mask in a random bin on the way back to his own hotel. He immediately packed up his possessions, checked out (even at the ungodly hour that it was) and walked to the train station.
His train would take him to Hakuba, where he was pretty certain Nitori would be in the next ski season. He'd been screening the boy's calls and he had a fairly good idea of his holiday plans. By the time Nitori arrived, Haru would have already devised his death and it would be beautiful, an angel of red set against the white snow.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. It's really different from anything I've ever written before. If people like it, I'll add more to it (the other two boys' deaths) after the holidays.