An Ordinary Promise

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters from Free! Iwatobi Swim Club. I just love them a lot.

Also, this has nothing to do with any *real life* Olympians.


Chapter 1: Olympic Present


Paris – August, 2024


Haru felt it the moment he touched the wall, when he surfaced from the embrace of the water to the deafening roar of the crowds from the stands, before he ever saw his time or knew whether or not they'd won—

His last Olympic race was over.

Holding the side of the pool with one hand, he stripped off his cap and goggles with the other, shaking the droplets from his head. The burning in his lungs slowly eased with each inhale of the chlorinated air. In the lane to his left, joyous splashing and celebrating told him who had earned gold. Rin was hauled from the water by the other members of the Australian medley relay team—massive, blond, and young, all three of them.

Haru closed his eyes for a moment as he bobbed in the water that lapped at his shoulders, savoring this new, unfamiliar feeling. I'm finally ordinary. He smiled to himself.

"Nanase."

He looked up into the face of his teammate, Ryuji, who'd had the butterfly leg before him. Takada Ryuji, raven-haired and twenty-two, was smiling and looking proud, though the expression didn't fully veil the disappointment Haru also saw there. He extended a hand and Haru grasped it, letting himself be helped out of the pool. They and the other two members of the Japanese medley relay team embraced briefly—quick hugs, pats on the back, quiet words of encouragement—celebrating a silver medal that was a worthy victory in its own right. Still, Haru's teammates looked a little put out by the raucous celebration of the Australians next to them.

Rin was in the center of that sloppy, loud, adrenaline-charged embrace, dwarfed by his three larger teammates. Haru watched briefly, the sunlight through the glass ceiling of the Centre Aquatique d'Aubervilliers glistening off droplets of water that clung to the hair and skin of the hopping men, figuring Rin would lose it and start crying in about ten seconds. The large display screen suspended behind the glossy warmup pool flashed their overall and individual times. Haru's time was still good—very good—but no longer spectacular. The competition got faster and younger every year (or seemed to, but it was also true he was getting older). His shoulders throbbed like they always did after a race, but the pain didn't fade as quickly anymore. Instead, it lingered—particularly in his left shoulder. The beginnings of a rotator cuff tear, Haru's doctor said before he left Japan. It would only get worse, even to the point of requiring surgery, if he continued to push at this level.

Athletes milled around behind the starting blocks of the fifty-meter pool in the emotional aftermath of the race, talking, celebrating, shaking hands; others just breathing and quietly taking it all in. Film crews with video cameras were everywhere, stretching for close-ups while trying not to be in the way. The crowds in the stands were still cheering, many of them on their feet—a sea of camera flashes and waving flags.

"Haru—" Damp arms messily encircled his shoulders, Rin crashing against him. Haru only caught a glimpse of the troubled mix of emotions on Rin's face amidst strands of wet, wine-red hair, but he felt the warm droplets that landed on the curve of his neck.

He lifted one hand, touching Rin's shoulder. By the way Rin was standing, Haru could tell Rin's back was bothering him again. One dream was ending for both of them. Rin shook a little against him, not saying anything else. Closing his eyes, Haru shut out the sunlit white-blue world, the cameras and crowds…everyone else but Rin.

-x-

It was a short bus ride from the aquatic centre in Aubervilliers to the Olympic Village on L'Île-Saint-Denis. At the security checkpoint, officials came onboard, verifying everyone's credentials before the bus was allowed to continue onto the village grounds. Haru followed his teammates off the bus and across the walkway towards the high-rise buildings, a bit of a breeze ruffling the collar of his white and red warmups, sifting through his black hair. He carried his bag of gear, slung across his chest. It was early evening, halfway through the games overall, but the swimming events were done. Among the athletes converging on the village after the day's events, it was easy to tell who was done competing and who wasn't—those who were lounging, flirting, and kicking back, versus those who were grumbling, shooting dirty looks at the others, and heading directly for the cafeterias or training rooms. Haru and the rest of the Japanese swim team were flying out in the morning.

The younger members of the Japanese team—both the women and the men—were chatting excitedly in low voices, eying other athletes who were done competing and being eyed back. For many of them, it was their first Olympics. They were wide-eyed innocents between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four with no real idea of what they were getting themselves into. Haru kept his eyes forward, ignoring the looks that settled on his person. He remembered Rio, eight years ago, all too clearly. Spending the night on the floor in the bathroom with his roommate, taking turns heaving up their guts into the commode… He hadn't touched tequila since.

Haru paused to draw a breath before heading into the building, bracing himself for the mayhem that was sure to be inside. The lobby was stuffed with athletes who were drinking and hanging out, relatively calm over all. He rode the elevator up to the seventeenth floor with the others. Even before the doors opened, he could hear the shrieks and laughter, the shouting. The seventeenth floor lobby was a warzone with water balloons flying back and forth—prophylactic water balloons—sailing between two groups of athletes who had upended the lobby furniture for barricades. Others were mixing drinks, making out, or both. Haru walked around the stunned members of his team, dodging the water balloons, and headed down the hall.

It was slightly quieter towards the end of the hall, likely because most of the athletes were otherwise occupied. In the room that he shared with Ryuji, Haru dumped his gear on the bottom bunk. He changed from his team warmups into street clothes—a blue T-shirt and dark pants—and headed out onto the balcony. A slight breeze sifted through his now-dry hair. It was hours before sunset; the temperature was pleasantly mild, unlike the thick humidity that awaited him at home. A slight haze had settled over Paris. From here, to the southeast, only the top of the Eiffel Tower was visible, jutting into the sky in the distance, between and behind other buildings.

Ryuji came in a few moments later and began shucking off his clothes. "Nanase, the Netherlands' relay team invited us to dinner."

Haru glanced at him. By the starry-eyed look on Ryuji's face, Haru guessed it was the women's relay team. He shook his head. "No thanks."

Ryuji frowned as he got dressed. "Your last Olympics and you're not going to let loose a little?"

He just shook his head again, not bothering to answer. The kids could do what they wanted. Haru turned back to the balcony, leaning forward with his elbows propped on the cool, metal rail. Fighting off women (or men, for that matter) wasn't his idea of a relaxing evening.

He heard Ryuji sigh. "Fine. Suit yourself." Ryuji puttered around the room for a few more minutes.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Haru inhaled, stilling and listening as Ryuji opened the door.

"Matsuoka."

Rin's voice answered. "Takada."

"I was, uh, just leaving. Excuse me."

Haru turned as Ryuji flashed him a cheesy grin and fled from the room. The kid's face had been slightly red in the cheeks.

Rin rolled his eyes and leaned against the open door with his hands in his pockets. He wore black pants with a dark gray T-shirt and a lightweight, hooded sweatshirt. A baseball cap shadowed his eyes; a pair of sunglasses hanging from the neck of his shirt.

Haru stepped back into the room, quietly trying to decipher Rin's face while his heart thudded in his chest. It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other every day for the past week-plus, at the pool, at meals, in the gym. But tonight was different. The competition was over. There were no more medals to be won. They hadn't exactly talked about what would happen now. Not since that night at the Tokyo Olympics, four years ago. Trepidation and uncertainty gnawed at him…but he'd know, one way or another, before this evening was over.

There was a squeal outside. Rin flinched into the room as yet another water balloon went sailing past, straight down the hallway. He scowled, pushing hair back from his face. "Let's get outta here, Haru."

Haru nodded, grabbing shades and a sweatshirt and following Rin into the hall.

They left the village and merged with the crowds of spectators, sponsors, and the media outside. Blending in was pretty easy when the outside world only recognized you in a swimsuit and swim cap, naked and dripping wet otherwise. Unless he opened his mouth, anyways. Haru had only learned about five words in French; his English was barely passable. He mostly relied on Rin.

"What do you want to eat?" Rin asked as they walked along a narrow, cobblestone street, peering into various cafes and other establishments.

"Mackerel."

Rin flicked his eyes skyward. "Tch."

Haru looked at him. "Why do you ask when you know the answer?"

Rin tugged on the strap of his hat and grinned. "The day I don't ask, you'll surprise me. Come on." He grabbed Haru's arm, steering him into a doorway. "Try ordering it yourself tonight. Maquereaux."

Haru exhaled softly, letting himself be led inside.

-x-

After dinner, they walked along the River Seine, within the village grounds but in a quieter area near the buildings the housed most of the coaches and trainers. Haru was pleasantly full of maquereaux au vin blanc (mackerel in white wine; make that nine French words he knew) though the wait staff had been quite affronted that he only wanted an appetizer for dinner (two of them) and not a regular course. He trailed slightly behind Rin, their path paneled in light and shadow from the trees. It was after nine PM. With the sun just setting—orange and fiery red and teal over the Parisian skyline—they'd both removed their sunglasses.

The…anxiety Haru had felt before returned. It only grew as the memories of another night pressed in upon him. They'd been by the bay, that night, instead of a river. The sound of the Seine's steady current was different from the softly lapping waves and placid waters of Tokyo Bay. It had been one of the defining moments of his life, that night—like the first relay he'd swam with Rin in grade school or the day Rin announced he was transferring to a school in Australia. His high school memories were a staccato of races won and lost, confrontations and teamwork. The years after that were a blur of training, study, and competitions, punctuated by Olympic milestones. Medals, yes, but the more important memories to Haru were a kiss in Rio…and a promise in Tokyo.

Haru stopped walking. What if Rin had changed his mind? The fear made his heart pound and his palms grow clammy. Four years and five thousand miles' distance. Nothing ever felt different when they were together, but that didn't mean things were necessarily the same. Just because he felt ordinary, he shouldn't assume that Rin also…

Rin stopped and glanced back at him. "Haru?" He turned slightly, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatshirt.

Haru swallowed, his hands curling at his sides as he forced the words out. "…Do you still want to?" As soon as he heard his own quiet voice, he started second-guessing himself. Rin might not even remember. He should've asked about Rin's back, or how he felt after today's relay or— Haru turned away, towards the river, embarrassed by his own awkwardness. At twenty-eight, shouldn't he have grown out of that already?

There was a moment of painful silence, broken only by the sound of Rin's athletic shoes against the pavement.

"What? Like I'm gonna back out?" Arms encircled him from behind, Rin's chest warm against his back.

Haru inhaled sharply, his eyes full of the river gliding past, the wind gently catching the unzipped panels of his sweatshirt.

"Don't talk like that." The brim of Rin's cap tapped the back of his head as Rin pressed his face into Haru's hair. "I'm coming home, Haru."

Haru's breath slipped out unsteadily as all of his jumbled, nervous feelings vanished in an instant, replaced by a glow that spread through his chest, through his body. He lifted one hand, clutching one of Rin's arms tightly, and smiled. "Rin."


A/N: As of this writing, Paris is one of four candidate cities for the 2024 Summer Olympics. The others are Los Angeles, Budapest, and Rome.