"Well, then. Why don't we start with the basics?"


The girl named Mizunashi Kazuya was born on the 8th of January.

Her parents weren't very creative people—they named all their children after the dates they were born so no one could complain about their birthdays being forgotten. With Kazuya being the youngest, they had three other children whose names were Yoichi, born April 1st; Juugo, born October 5th; and Nanami, born July 3rd.

The Mizunashi family lives in an old home inherited by Kenshou, the father, in the town of Iwatobi. The eldest, Yoichi, is currently studying comparative literature at a college in Tokyo. The second eldest, Juugo, is also in college, studying computer engineering at a university in Osaka. Their eldest girl, Nanami, is a third year high school student in Iwatobi High, and the youngest child, Kazuya, is a second year student in the same high school.

The father, Kenshou, is an accountant for a publishing company, while the mother, Ayami, is a housewife who sometimes helps out at her brother's general goods store. Both parents are good and kind people who always make sure that their children are faring well. Both sets of grandparents have unfortunately passed on. Ayami's brother has a wife and two kids of his own—they are both still in elementary, and Ayami's two girls take turns babysitting them when needed.

The Mizunashi couple always encourages the children to do their best. They are loving parents who wholeheartedly support their children's interests and endeavors. For that reason, the Mizunashi children have several medals, trophies, certificates, and plaques their mother puts on display at the house. The children value the encouragement of their parents and siblings and are always able to do their best and bring pride and honor to their family.


Over Your Shoulders

[look back, look back

over your shoulders.

why are you rushing?

we have all the time

in the world, in the world.]


1. portrait of a dead girl


"That's good and all," the black-haired boy sitting in front of me said, doodling mindlessly on the margins of his notebook, "but I'm not supposed to write about your family."

Nanase Haruka was drawing a grill with slabs of some kind of fish—I think it was fish—on it. It was actually a very good, very realistic-looking drawing, and the way he smudged the pencil lead to form the smoke rising on top was almost expert. I understand that it was the period before lunch and he was probably hungry, but he could at least try to look a bit livelier.

For an activity for Japanese Language class, the teacher, Hatakeyama-sensei, randomly paired everyone up and asked them to write a short biography of their partner. As an icebreaker thing, it came quite late into the school year, with it being September already and all. While the members of class 2-1 weren't quite sharing deep, dark secrets and juice boxes with each other yet, the cliques and groups had formed and everyone at least knew everyone else's names. The biography activity didn't seem like a very difficult task at first, but as luck would have it, I had been paired up with the Nanase Haruka.

He didn't speak much and the most I've said to him was greetings. He was a member of the recently created swim team, which—amazingly enough—managed to make it all the way to regionals on its first year but was disqualified after some kind of misconduct or something. I wasn't particularly familiar with the rules of competitive swimming, and they didn't make much news after summer so I wasn't sure what exactly they were disqualified for. Ever since swimming season passed, they haven't been very active.

"Well, then," I said, exhaling lightly. "Why don't you go and start to give me an example?"

"Nanase Haruka. 17. I like the water and mackerel."

I glanced over to Tachibana Makoto and his partner beside us. The green-eyed boy smiled distractedly at me with apologizing eyes while taking down notes of the engaging life story his partner was telling him. Like Nanase, Tachibana was a member of the swimming club—the captain, if I wasn't mistaken, with Nanase as his vice-captain or something. They were best friends, it seemed, but most of the time, it looked like Tachibana was Nanase's adoring big brother—other times, it seemed as if he was his busybody mother.

I returned my gaze to the boy in front of me. Nanase had his cheek cradled in his palm, hand half-covering his mouth as his blue eyes focused on the mini-masterpiece of grilled mackerel—I'm just assuming its mackerel, but I'm pretty confident that it was—he was drawing into the margins of his notebook.

I didn't sigh—I exhaled a bit heavily. I caught his gaze for a second when his eyes flicked up to me. The bad part about this is that I know he wasn't being purposely difficult—this is really just the way he is.

The sooner we got this thing done and over with, the better it would be for the both of us.

"How long have you been swimming competitively?"

" . . . Since elementary." He was obviously hesitant to answer, but it at least gave me some sense of relief that he actually did. There was hope in finishing this activity properly after all. "I stopped in middle school, but picked it up again this year."

The stopping thing got me a bit curious, but I decided not to push it. A one-page essay was all Hatakeyama needed. I just needed to get the basic facts, a bit of something interesting, and the rest should be easy.

"Have you won any competitions?"

"Lots, during elementary. Mostly short distance freestyle." The corner of his mouth twitched up as he started writing English characters on his notebook, a bit below the grilled mackerel masterpiece. For the team. "And one medley relay."

"You and your friends started the swimming club this year, right? How did that happen?"

He stopped drawing, pencil hovering over the surface of his notebook. Putting down his pencil, he turned his head out the window, a wistful sort of look coming onto his face.

"Some old friends came back and one thing led to another," he said, eyes smiling. Nanase was considered good-looking by a unanimous consensus of Iwatobi High's female population, but his profile was really something. He wasn't much of an attention-grabber, and most of the time he was just off to the side, quiet and thoughtful. I had always thought him to be a bit apathetic, but his eyes were particularly expressive now that I got a good look at them.

He seemed to be remembering some good memories, and I didn't really have the heart to interrupt him.

I just started scribbling spirals into my notebook until Nanase finally tore his eyes from the window, meeting my gaze. Lifting his chin from his hand, he sat up straight, tapping the sharpened tip of his pencil on his notebook twice.

"What about you? Any hobbies?"

"Reading," came the automatic answer. It was the safe, default answer—I used it with self-introductions all the time. Dad worked for a publishing company, and Yoichi was taking up comparative literature. Even Nanami was looking into journalistic writing as a course in college. Mom's pretty cultured, too. There have always been a lot of books and reading materials in the house. I had other—probably more interesting—hobbies, but they were kind of niche things that would be difficult to explain. Besides, it's not like this activity's supposed to be enlightening us about ourselves or the secrets of life or anything.

He nodded, scribbling it down. "Any particular genres?"

"Well . . . " I considered myself pretty well-read, but I haven't really had any time for leisure reading lately. When was the last time I picked up a novel that wasn't for class anyway? And moreover, what was the last book I read again? Ever since starting high school, I've been focusing more on my academics. And because of that part-time job I picked up at Dad's office as their errand girl—it paid very well, and they really only made me run around for coffee and make photocopies—I haven't been able to actually relax these past two summers.

Nanase stared, patiently waiting for my answer.

"Uh, fantasy, I guess. Though I won't turn down a good mystery, and I'm partial to epic adventures."

He nodded, writing it all down. "Do you have any favorites?"

When I was eight, I remember making a list of all the books I've read. The ones I really liked were highlighted in orange. What was in that list again? I think I still have it tucked away somewhere in my bedroom. Where did I put it?

"Akutagawa Ryunosuke." The last time I talked to aniki, he was complaining about getting a low grade on a paper he did on one of Akutagawa Ryunosuke's short stories—the one with the murdered man and the seven different accounts of how he died by the people he met that day. I can't remember its title. "His short stories, like, um . . . The Spider's Thread."

Luckily enough, despite Amakata-sensei being the swimming club's adviser, Nanase wasn't a literature expert.

"Okay. Do you like swimming?"

For some reason, that question brought a small smile to my face. I guess I sort of expected it—this was Nanase I was talking to after all.

For this question alone, I felt compelled to be completely honest. "I neither like nor dislike it."

"The water is nice, you know."

The way he said that simply made me smile a bit more. Nanase really liked the water, didn't he? There was something altogether refreshing about the notion of it, and I guess it was nice to think about.

I was the youngest of four siblings, and while I'd always been the 'princess,' I was never really the 'baby.' I was a bit more pampered and spoiled than my siblings, but people still expected maturity and responsibility from me, especially now that I would be turning eighteen soon. My father was, by nature, a hardworking and diligent man, and I don't really talk to him much beyond what's needed even though I see him more often now that I picked up that job at his office. My mother was like a superwoman who could do anything and everything—she was intelligent, she cooked, she sewed, she fixed the bathroom sink, she could tell it was a real Louis Vuitton bag they were selling at the second-hand shop for a fifth of its original price. She cared equally for all her children, but I've always felt a little intimated by her skill, so I wasn't really close to her either.

In fact, I don't really consider myself close to anyone. My siblings somehow always found out about the secrets I didn't want them to know, but they never really find out about everything. And, sure, I had my own group of friends here at school, but none of them knew every little detail about me, and I don't know every single thing about them. I shared different secrets with different people, and I guess never really completely gave myself away to one person.

"I almost drowned once, when I was ten," I admitted, and Nanase's eyes widened in surprise. Still, I continued. He was the one who liked water, so this was what I was going to share with him. "I don't remember the last time I went to the beach—it's actually less than half a kilometer away from my house, but I never really did like the feeling of sand in my toes. As for pools—yeah, I still go to pools. Not very much, but it's not like I'm terrified of the water or anything after almost drowning. I can swim—and by 'swim' I mean splash around in the water; nothing like what you guys do—but . . . Yeah. I guess getting in the water is nice, but I don't quite have any special sentiments about it."

The surprise in his eyes was gone, and it was replaced by a mildly confused expression. His eyebrows were scrunched together, mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something but couldn't. It was precisely that awkward silence that made me kind of nervous.

"I don't actually remember almost drowning," I tried to clarify the story as much as I could. "In fact, I don't really remember much of my childhood. I guess . . . nothing really stuck? I just get lots of stories from my parents and siblings—apparently I also get boat-sick, and not to mention I've also fallen off a horse once. I've also walked into the middle of traffic and nearly gotten bulldozed by cars numerous times—most of those I still remember because the last time one happened was a week ago."

The drowning thing is less traumatic than one would think it is. My mother always said that when something bad happens, get back to your feet as soon as you can. If you fail, try again right away so that you're not too scared of trying again. Results won't stay the same way forever. It helps that I don't really clearly remember anything from before I was 12. My long-term memory has always been shot and I only know about the things that happened to me when I was younger because there are pictures and my parents or siblings tell me about it when I ask them if it really happened. I guess that's part of the reason I do better on tests when I cram.

Also, I'm not easy to scare, and when Yoichi picks up horror and suspense for movie nights, I never scream when something jumps into the screen. Sure, I get surprised, but my reactions include more heart-skips-a-beat-while-keeping-a-poker-face-on than shriek-my-lungs-out-and-make-the-neighbors-call-th e-police-for-disturbing-the-peace.

I guess I don't really think much about the scary stuff and bad things that happen to me. I'm not the philosophical type, but I have thought about dying a couple of times. I've always been of the mindset that I would like to die young and successful rather than old and withered. Is that why I can't get post-traumatic stress?

Am I the type to welcome death with open arms?

Nanase was still just staring with furrowed brows, and I was getting pretty antsy because of it. He was usually quiet, but this kind of quiet was putting me on edge. Nanase wasn't someone I was particularly close with, but he turned out to be pretty easy to talk to—even though it's just for a class activity, I told him a lot more than I originally intended.

I drummed my fingers against the skin below the hem of my skirt. Goddammit, say something already.

" . . . Mizunashi is weird."

I closed my eyes, letting out a long breath.

I'll take whatever I can get.


Hatakeyama gave back the graded essays three days later.

93

Good enough, I guess.

I folded up the paper in half and slipped it into my bag.

"Nanase, see me during lunch."

I looked over my shoulder to see Nanase taking his paper from the teacher. Hatakeyama moved on down the line, going back to distributing the papers once again. Nanase caught my gaze but immediately bowed his head, purposely avoiding me. His fingers deftly folded his paper in half, slipping it into his notebook. He cradled his chin into his palm, turning his gaze to the side and staring out the window.

I couldn't help but wonder why Hatakeyama wanted to talk to him. A nervous churning started in the pit of my stomach. That Nanase—just what did he write in that essay?

I turned my gaze back to the front. I didn't tell him any embarrassing or disturbing stories—the drowning thing was something Hatakeyama knew about, since I already wrote an essay about it last year. The only comment he wrote at the end of that was, "The creative formatting works very well with the emotions you portray, and the imagery is very good." I remember because I got a perfect score on that.

Other than the drowning thing, I didn't really give Nanase anything too personal. The rest of the information I told him was pretty much the stuff you would see on a bio-data. Name, age, birthday, family members, hobbies. I told him about being on the track team in middle school, and making it all the way to nationals on my third year. I didn't place, but it had been a good experience nonetheless, and I started focusing more on my academics after entering high school. I told him about aiming to go to a college in Tokyo. Nanami had been accepted at aniki's university and would be living with him at his apartment starting next school year. To make things easier for my parents, I wanted to get into the same place—Juugo-nii-san had been accepted there, too, but he also got offered a full scholarship by his current college in Osaka, so he took it.

I thought about the essay I wrote—it was pretty basic, I suppose. I focused on playing up Nanase's swimming. I started with a general background about him—a bit about his family, likes and dislikes, his side hobbies—he liked drawing and his friends told him he was a pretty good cook. I put in some things about how he really loved the water, but I mostly went on about his time as a competitive swimmer during elementary.

It's not like I wrote anything bad about him. It got a pretty high grade and Hatakeyama didn't write any comments—positive or negative—either.

I chanced a glance over my shoulder, only to find Nanase mindlessly doodling into his notebook once again.

Hatakeyama finished giving back the papers, walking back to the front of the classroom to officially start class.


Free Talk:

Why, hello! Thanks for reading this far and giving this story a chance. :) I just want to use this opportunity to say some important things about this fic.

First off, this is going to be a short story and will be finished in 3 chapters. I guess you can call it a mini-series? This entire story is actually already finished; I'm just going to be uploading each part weekly so that I have time to further polish the next chapters and take in your comments.

Second, this is a personal fic, so it's going to verge self-insert at some points and the canon characters will be OOC at some parts. Kazuya is not completely me though—some of the decisions and actions she makes are things I would never do, but her basis as a character is rooted in me, and most of her thoughts and opinions are mine as well. I just feel like I'm very overdue for a coming-of-age fic, so I guess you can call this story something that I need to write to be able to move on with my own life. I hope you guys understand.

Third, like I said, this is a personal, coming-of-age fic, so there's not going to be much romance, but it is hinted at. I guess, just don't expect lovey-dovey waves and be prepared for something kinda sad in tone? Yeah, this is a pretty mellow fic, I suppose. Also, this is written in first-person—narration is entirely from Kazuya's point of view, so, uhhh, there're a lot of holes in logic and unexplained points and wrong assumptions on her part. LOL, I guess what I'm trying to say here is that while this fic will be able to stand alone, I'm maybe open to making a full-length sequel that's not a personal fic if you guys like it enough. ;)

Once again, thanks for reading and I hope you guys enjoy this little project of mine.

General Disclaimer: Free! is not mine. The OCs and this story as it is presented, however, is mine. So is that verse at the top—it's a little something I made for the purpose of this story. They're not song lyrics or from a poem or anything.


Just in case you're curious:

Kazuya = 一八 = 1, 8 = January 8

Yoichi = 四一 = 4, 1 = April 1

Juugo = 十五 = 10, 5 = October 5

Nanami = 七三 = 7, 3 = July 3

Because I'm punny like that, harhar.

Also, Akutagawa Ryunosuke is a real Japanese short story writer. The story Kazuya's thinking about is entitled In a Grove. The Spider's Thread is another Akutagawa story about a thief who went to hell but because he did one good deed in his life, a Buddha offered him a way out by lowering a spider's thread to him that he could use to climb out of hell. The thief started climbing up the thread, but other sinners from hell started climbing up after him and the thread couldn't take the weight. The thief shouted at them to let go and go away, so the thread snapped and he fell into hell. If any of you are interested in reading the stories, there should be full texts available to read online. Just Google them.


Follow-up Stuff:

Uh, yeah. If any of you are following my KnB fanfic, Freundeskreis, uh, uhm . . . I'm working on it, I promise. Things have been hectic because I'm in the middle of exam period, but for the life of me, I couldn't start with the writing on any of my final papers until I churned this out, sooooo. New chapter will be around the end of October. I have a break after this week, but I'm probably going to puke out a project proposal until my mind gets some rest, so consider this story as a temporary replacement.