At 25 years old, Haruka Nanase leaves the professional swimming circuit. He's won his gold medal, and now he's just an ordinary man. That's what he tells himself anyway. But now he finds himself goalless, like the last year of high school, and he finds himself wandering. He stays in Tokyo. The buzz of the big city is calming and the mere presence of so many other humans is comforting even if he doesn't want to interact with them.
Rin is still touring with the Australia team shooting for his second and last chance before 30 to make it to the Olympic stage once more. Haru doesn't have the same motivation to keep on swimming and knows it would be bad for his health. His limits have been reached and there's no need to cause himself unnecessary suffering. His left shoulder started to hurt in the last few rounds of the Olympics, and he has no intention of making it worse.
Rin hasn't bothered him about quitting, and for that, Haru is thankful. The distance between them is growing, however, and while still friendly, they're not close. The same goes for Makoto. Back in high school, Haru couldn't think of a future that Makoto was not involved in. Times changed and broke them apart. Makoto spent his time helping coach the Japan team and helping coach Haru in particular, but now that Haru's competitive time is done, Makoto has returned to Iwatobi. He works alongside Sasabe, their old coach, to teach the next generation of swimmers. Haru plans to return to Iwatobi for the upcoming winter holidays, and Makoto still calls him once a week, but it's not as close a relationship.
Haru currently lives in a small Tokyo apartment. He sits on a bank account full of his own savings and a monthly supplement from his parents. It's enough to survive, but the amount is hardly excessive. Haru knows he needs to find a job, and soon, but going to work has always seemed limiting. He's glanced through job postings on the internet, and nothing has caught his eye. Today, he walks into a little coffee shop–it's called "Little Bean"–and goes up to the counter. It's the least offensive potential place of work he's seen so far. He figures it's a place to start.
The café is small, with seating for only a dozen people, but it is clean and the air has a pleasant vibrancy in it. Haru pauses before speaking to the woman behind the counter. She wears a nametag that Haru doesn't bother to read.
"Excuse me. I saw you were looking to hire." Haru speaks without looking up.
Her eyes rest on him for a moment, and he wonders if he'll be recognized as an ex-Olympian. He doesn't particularly mind the fame, but he's always been someone who prefers not being noticed. Thankfully, she doesn't figure out his identity, or at least doesn't say anything.
"Here's the application. Fill it out and we'll get back to you."
She hands him a piece of paper asking for name and work experience and so on and a ballpoint pen. Haru takes it and sits down at an empty table. The café is nearly empty at this time of day. There's one student type who is sitting off to the side with shoulders hunched over a laptop computer, but the rest of the tables are unoccupied. Haru smooths the paper against the table and looks at it. He doesn't really have work experience to speak of, but he has a college degree and a gold medal. That has to count for something, right? Ten minutes later, he rises from his seat, caps the pen, and hands the woman behind the counter the application back. She thanks him with a nod, and Haru leaves Little Bean.
It's still early in the day as the glass door swings shut with a little jingle. There's a chime hanging above the doorframe. A cool October breeze runs through Haru the moment he stands on the street, and he gathers his jacket a little more closely around his shoulders. His jacket is light and unsuited to the weather. A small shiver wracks his frame. Maybe he should head home.
Haru spends the better part of the next week in his apartment, leaving once every day to go to the gym and the pool. While he's not a pro athlete anymore, he uses exercise as a means of letting off steam, and he needs to swim or the thoughts in his head will become overwhelming. The rest of the time, Haru spends drawing huddled in the couch in his living room. While he'd always been artistic, Haru never took drawing seriously until the last couple years. It was a way to let stress go that didn't require searching for a pool. It's convenient and leaves a record. Haru likes searching through his sketchbooks to trace the path his emotions have taken.
This week, he draws seascapes. It's nothing unusual in itself, but he's been drawing sunsets. He wonders if there's something symbolic in the setting of the sun. Haru is sitting with a blanket over his legs and the sketchbook in hand when his phone rings. It takes a moment before he remembers that he needs to answer this call in case it's his potential employer. It takes another moment to free himself from the blanket and cross the couple step's distance to the kitchen counter.
"Hello?" He answers.
"Is this Nanase-san?" The voice on the other end of the phone is unfamiliar.
"Yes."
"We'd like you to work a shift to see if it's a fit. Is that alright with you?"
Haru nods, then realizes he's on the phone.
"Yes. What time?"
They settle on a two o'clock on Tuesday, which is the day after next, and Haru hangs up the phone. The possible responsibility hangs over his shoulders. Will he really remember to go to work when he needs to? Haru lets himself rest on the couch once more. It's another change in his life, and he's not sure if it's a positive or negative.
At 1:00 pm on Tuesday, Haru pulls himself out of the bathtub and towels off. There's only a light nervousness in his chest as he dresses. His fingers fumble for a second on the buttons of his collared shirt, but he's relaxed by the time he leaves his apartment and locks the door. When he comes back, he'll either still be jobless or not. The walk to the café takes the remaining twenty minutes until the appointed time, and he arrives exactly as the clock on the wall turns to 2.
He takes one breath to brace himself as he pushes the door open and the chime sounds.
"Nanase?" The person behind the counter greets. This time, it's a man he doesn't recognize. He looks to be in his twenties or early thirties. He has nondescript brown hair and eyes.
Haru nods in response.
The session lasts for three hours, shorter than a usual shift, but it's only supposed to be a test. The man shows Haru how to operate the coffee machine and where the pastries are kept. In the back, Haru catches a glimpse into the kitchens.
"We make all the baked goods here. If you want to help out, the head baker can be a bit nasty, but it could be worth a shot."
Haru affirms with a slight incline of the head. Baking would get him farther away from the eyes of the customers, and he has a little experience.
"When can I talk to him?" Haru asks. There's a nervousness in his chest now that gnaws at him, and it takes effort to get the question out.
"He comes in about 6 to get things ready for the morning. He'll be here in about fifteen–you're done by the way. The manager will call you tomorrow."
With that, Haru's test shift is over. He removes the light blue apron he borrowed for the shift and hangs it up in the break room. At 5:53, he returns to the front of the café. It would make sense to stay and talk to the baker if he wants to work, but anxiety is gripping at his heart. Haru relaxes into an empty seat, the last one in the café, and tries to steady his breathing. When the head baker comes in, Haru is bent over the table with his forehead resting in his palms. He hardly notices the man, but he hears the baker exchange words with the man behind the counter, and his ears prick when he hears his own name.
Haru steadies himself on the table and stands. The head baker eyes him, and Haru lets his eyes wander. It's uncomfortable being scrutinized, but the harsh stare is gone within a minute, and the man goes to the back of the café. Haru follows him, despite anxiety and growing fatigue. He'd forgotten how exhausting it was to be around other people for an extended period of time. He promises himself only a few more minutes, and pushes through the swinging door to the kitchen.
"Takahashi," the baker introduces himself, extending a large-palmed hand.
Haru takes it after a moment of hesitation. The baker's hands are warm and lightly calloused. They envelop Haru's own. He's glad the handshake only lasts a second.
"Nanase." Haru doesn't bother to force a smile.
"So you want to bake?" Takahashi asks, and Haru nods.
"Yeah, I could use some help. Have time now?"
Dread pools in Haru's stomach. Turning away at this point might be job suicide, and he really does want to have a source of income. Haru bites the inside of his cheek.
"Just a little."
Takahashi offers him a wide smile that Haru doesn't return.
"Wash up. You can help me put some bread together."
The water that runs over Haru's palms is calming. It's not the same as taking a bath, but the simple presence of the clear liquid settles a bit of his nerves. Of course, he wants to go home and soak in the bath, but responsibility holds him where he is.
Haru holds his hands up letting droplets of water run off his fingers into the sink. Takahashi points him to the towel rack, and Haru reluctantly dries his hands. Haru follows Takahashi's instructions and helps him knead the dough. He helps divide it into smaller balls of dough and sets it to rest off to the side of the room.
"You seem to know what you're doing," Takahashi comments.
At this point, all Haru can muster is an exhausted nod and a slight hum in response.
"You're quiet, but I like you. You're welcome to be my assistant baker. I usually come in from about 6 to 10 in the evenings and then I'm back at 5. Join me tomorrow evening?" Takahashi offers another soft smile, and Haru nods.
He's got the job, and before he collapses from exhaustion, he heads for the door. It's dark outside, but the streetlights do their job. Haru remembered to grab a warmer jacket before leaving today, so the cold is slightly less unbearable. The wind is still biting, and it stings his cheeks. The cold serves to keep him awake as he makes his way home, leaving the brightly lit town center behind him.
Three weeks later, Haru is trusted enough to both help Takahashi and run the counter as the café closes down. Fifteen minutes until 8, the closing time, the door swings open and Haru feels his heart stop for a second. Bright, teal eyes capture his, and Haru has half a mind to announce that the café is closed.