AsaKisu is a ship I have fallen head over heels for in a very short amount of time. Asahi and Kisumi are both such bright, fun, positive, and playful characters, but I believe they have their dark moments too, and this story truly explores that. I've read just about every AsaKisu one-shot in existence, but have not yet come upon a fully developed, multi-chapter story centered around them specifically. So I wrote one.

My warning for you, should you read this, is that it is long and it is sad. There are happy moments, there are comforting moments, there will be smiles, but be prepared to feel the sting too. It's a novel, basically, with round characters and a full-bodied plot. All of it has been written already, so you may go into this knowing that it will never be abandoned, and you will get a full story out of it, with a resolution and everything.

To set the stage, this takes place starting about a year after the boys' freshman year in college. The timeline of some things, in reference to canon, has been just a tiny bit tweaked. However, you probably won't notice, so there you go. I do not own Free!

If you, like me, are a fan of drama, heartbreak, and Shiina Asahi's POV, then proceed, read, enjoy, and let me know what you think.

PART I

Basketball was distinct for that sound — the squeak of rubber soles on shiny wooden floors, punctuated by the springy cadence of heavy thunking amidst the patter of scrambling feet. There was the occasional swish of the net being disturbed or the jarring thud of the ball bouncing off the backboard. And of course the, most often testosterone-rich, hoots and hollers of excited voices calling for a pass or throwing shade at the other team. But the squeaking, that was always what reached his ears first, even before he could pull open the door to step onto the court.

It wasn't that he didn't like it. It had just taken a while to adjust to. He was used to the ambiance of rapid splashing, of moving water, of the rhythmic up and down between muffled, bubbling pressure and chaos. Swimming wasn't a quiet sport by any means, but there was something about it that was more atmospheric than the land of squeaky shoes had to offer.

It had taken a while, but he could confidently say he was used to it now. And in fact, the sound had grown on him. Not necessarily because of any kind of pleasure the sound itself introduced — it didn't really. It was the association of that sound, the connotation of what it meant, and what he knew he'd find along with it that had begun to slowly incite some form of excitement in him.

When he carded his way into the student rec center on campus and opened the gym doors to that sound, nowadays his stomach tightened with a thrilling anticipation. And he realized, as the days went on, that that belly-swooping rush had gradually gathered intensity without his full recognition — until today, for instance, when he walked into Court Room One and felt his stomach dip into his knees and rapidly swing back up, leaving his toes tingling. Because it all sort of hit him in one rush today — the squeaking, and the dribbling, and the shouting, and the immediate lock of his gaze onto that cotton-candy pink hair bobbing up the court.

His chest inflated slowly, silently, expelling a breath that went unheard as his eyes followed the tumultuous movement across the room, absently donning his own smile in response to the grin underneath those playful purple eyes yards away.

Kisumi somehow always had the ball when Asahi happened to walk in. The redhead wondered how truly coincidental that was in real life. Or maybe this lollipop of a human being was actually that good at basketball and everyone knew it.

Kisumi popped off the floor with a graceful layup just as Asahi had the thought, and the redhead shook his head to himself, rolling eyes at the way his friend coolly smiled off the hype that followed. The game kept moving, and he was tossed the ball again within seconds, swiftly performing an ankle-breaking crossover that had the opponent guarding him landing flat on his ass, again spurring an uproar of general excitement. He dribbled along the very edge of the court, keeping the ball controlled and in bounds, jogging leisurely in Asahi's general direction, his vibrant eyes scanning the court for open teammates. He waited for an opposing player to take a swipe at the ball, before he tossed it fluidly behind his back into the hands of his teammate. It passed through two more allies before landing back in Kisumi's hands, giving him enough time to appear at the end of the court again and pitch it in the net with a hook shot.

A whistle was blown. "That's thirty!" hollered the court rep, spinning a finger over his head. "Switch it up!"

A few of the players groaned and complained about the abbreviated length of the game due to lopsided advantages, but they all obediently switched out with the students who had been waiting on the sidelines for a chance to grab the court. Kisumi jogged off with everyone else, receiving several back slaps and teasing ruffles to his hair as the other players passed him by and complimented his game. He smiled and rubbed at the back of his head modestly, but that was just for show. Kisumi was a cocky bastard on the inside, and anyone who knew him well enough ought to be fully aware of that.

Asahi remained planted where he was, allowing his peers to part past him on their way to the doors. Kisumi grabbed for a water bottle and downed it in seconds, using the back of his wrist to wipe the moisture away before he finally turned and locked eyes with the redhead. His lips turned up immediately, eyes already aglitter with a mixture of fondness and mischief.

"Asahi!" he said brightly, strolling over to initiate a high-five. His fingers wrapped around Asahi's hand and left a lingering grip on him even after their arms lowered between them. "Come to join us, I see."

Asahi smirked. "What gives you that idea?" Kisumi's fingers were warm and slick with sweat, but, being a swimmer, he wasn't much put off by this. He neither removed his hand nor held him back.

Kisumi gave him a wide smile. "Well, the Great Shiina Asahi couldn't possibly have come all this way just to watch some nobody like me dribble a ball, could he?"

Asahi snorted, letting his arm fall back to his side once Kisumi finally released his hand. "Right. All the way from the biology building, a whole five-minute walk. It was grueling. You owe me big time."

Kisumi giggled. "So you admit it then," he said clasping his hands in front of him, elbows straight. "You did come just to see me."

Asahi's lips fell and he turned his nose up immediately. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It was implied."

"Maybe I was just dropping in on the way to my dorm to watch you lose real quick."

"Ahh, well now that you're here, you might as well hop in on a game."

Asahi tossed his head stubbornly, gesturing to his feet. "I don't have the proper footwear."

"That's okay. You can just use the shoes in your gym bag," Kisumi said, popping the bottom of the bag hanging from Asahi's shoulder.

The redhead scrunched up his face. "You're a little shit."

"You're so sweet," Kisumi giggled, throwing his own bag over his shoulder. "Court Room Two is open for free practice tonight. Want to play some one-on-one?" He turned without bothering to wait for a response, and walked off toward the left end of the court where another set of doors led onto the second court.

Asahi followed, but made a show of being obnoxious about it by puffing out a large sigh. "If you insist. I guess I have enough time to kick your ass."

"What about my ass?" Kisumi said over his shoulder, smiling innocently.

Asahi scrunched up his nose and lifted his foot to nudge him in the back. Kisumi giggled as he stumbled gracefully through the door.

"Stupid," Asahi grumbled, following in his wake.

He wouldn't admit to the way his heart fluttered, watching Kisumi rake his fingers through his damp hair, eyes smiling as they took in the half-empty court. Asahi had decided he wouldn't admit to things like that a long time ago — like when he first noticed his pulse doing weird things around his friend. And it was always stupid little things that caused a reaction, like the way Kisumi brushed his hair back, or when he innocently rolled his eyes up to pretend he wasn't listening, or that little shimmy he gave his shoulders when he ate something he particularly enjoyed, or the million-and-one times throughout any given day that he would find sporadic little ways to touch Asahi with casual fingers. Dumb things. Nuances that didn't need reactions like that, because Asahi definitely wasn't that sensitive to everything his friend did. No, of course not.

This side of the wall was much quieter, and much less crowded, as there were only a few students leisurely practicing solo in different corners of the room, and there were no over-hyped spectators taking up wall space either. All of the nets had been lowered, one on each end and two along each side. The boys dropped their bags at the base of the wall behind the furthermost goal on the right end of the court, and Kisumi fetched a ball from the bin in the corner, testing its buoyancy with a few flashy dribbles. Once Asahi exchanged his casual shoes for a pair of Onitsukas, Kisumi pressed the ball between his palms and tossed it straight at his chest. The redhead caught it, well-prepared, and smirked as he straightened back up to his full height.

"How was kinesiology?" Kisumi asked, smile pushing up his cheeks under his eyes.

Asahi distracted himself by dribbling the ball between his legs. "It was a drag. I can't wait to get these stupid science classes out of the way."

He tossed a free throw at the goal and the ball checked the backboard on its way through the net. Kisumi caught it and tossed it back, nodding for Asahi to shoot a few more warm-up shots.

"It's only seventy percent of your degree, I'm sure," Kisumi teased with a one-shoulder shrug, catching the ball again and tossing it back. "No big deal. You must be super eager to get into the ethics of coaching?"

Asahi scoffed, watching the ball as he bounced it heavily a few times. "I just want to get out in the field. I'm tired of sitting in lecture halls." He caught the ball mid-bounce and gave it a toss. It ricocheted off the rim. He tched under his breath. "Do you know BLS and CPR are two separate courses?"

Kisumi giggled to himself. "The gods forbid you be thorough about learning how to save someone's life."

"How often am I gonna have to perform CPR, really?"

Kisumi gave an exaggerated head nod, hands behind his back this time as he watched Asahi take another shot. "No, you're right. The odds of someone drowning within your lifetime career of water sports are slim-to-none, I'm sure."

"You're a shoddy prick."

"Ooh," Kisumi giggled, voice lifting as though he'd been pleasantly prodded. "I felt that one."

"I can hear the sarcasm in your voice."

"What do you mean, Asahi?"

Asahi passed the ball roughly. Kisumi held it up to his nose to hide his smiling cheeks.

"Let's go. I'm warm."

The basketball player raised a doubtful eyebrow. "You sure? I do love watching you take clumsy shots."

"Ha!" Asahi pushed his sleeves up and bent his knees, crouching at the ready. He kicked his chin up with a spicy smirk, beckoning with his fingers. "You're about to get whooped."

Kisumi smiled pleasantly and dribbled the ball at his side. He raised a finger with his free hand. "You promise this time?" He glanced down at his naked wrist as though checking a watch, ball still rhythmically bouncing. "I've been waiting since middle school."

Asahi dove forward and Kisumi twisted gracefully out of the way, his movements swift. He switched the ball from his right hand to his left and swooped it up behind Asahi's back without breaking a sweat. The swish of the net was clean and clear. Kisumi flashed his teeth. Asahi narrowed his eyes.

He would have told anyone who'd listen how much he hated Kisumi their first year of middle school. He would have told anyone who wouldn't listen. He would have told Kisumi himself and, as a matter of fact, he did. Several times.

He was clingy. He was annoying. He never shut up about basketball, and never stopped prodding Asahi and the other boys to join his club, even after they won their first relay. He took up too much space, and he was a relentless teaser. Everyone thought he was so pleasant, but in truth he was devious beyond repair. He was the kind of sweet that made your teeth ache just looking at him. And he was a shameless flirter — with literally everyone. He liked playing mind games. He found it amusing. And no one but Asahi ever seemed bothered by it. No one except Nanase Haruka, maybe, but that might have been a different story. Kisumi was like the Cheshire Cat if he never disappeared. Sly, shifty, and completely unapologetic about his own existence.

He grew on Asahi like wild flowers, and the redhead hadn't realized it for a second until his parents told him they'd be moving again, halfway through his second year of middle school, and his first gut-dropping thought was that he wouldn't get to turn his nose away at Kisumi's attempts to slide under his skin. That had quickly and alarmingly evolved into a very embarrassing breakdown before school could even start the next day, when Kisumi had casually commented that his expression looked as though he was trying to lay an egg.

Normally, Asahi would have flared up with a stuttering rebuttal about how Kisumi really needed to make a decision on what kind of animal he was going to insist on comparing Asahi to, which would have opened the door for a barrage of clever quips, but that day, none of that had happened. He'd just simply looked over at those shining lavender eyes next to him and burst into tears.

It was the first time he remembered Kisumi frowning.

Thankfully, at that time, they were the only two from their original friend group in that class, meaning Kisumi was the only important person present to witness this — besides the twenty other students who gaped at him like he'd just taken an arrow to the side of the head. But his friend had been surprisingly quick about jumping up from his seat to shield Asahi from view of the rest of the class by standing directly over his desk. It was the first time Asahi had ever used the term friend when thinking about Kisumi.

He'd done an incredibly sloppy job of trying to pull himself together long enough to step out of the room, but Kisumi seemed equipped enough to handle that too. The moment Asahi had shakily pushed himself to his feet, Kisumi had placed the heel of his palm between his shoulder blades and held him close to his side as he walked Asahi out into the hallway and down the back stairwell that nobody used. Then he'd put Asahi in the corner, again using his body to shield him from sight of anyone who might possibly walk by, and he wrapped his arms around him and just let him cry.

All of this, he had done in complete silence.

Asahi remembered everything about that moment. He remembered being surprised by how completely Kisumi's shroud covered him. He remembered the pressure of the wall against his back. He remembered the stifling warmth of his overheating body being blanketed by another human being, and he remembered not at all being bothered by it. He remembered that Kisumi smelled like oranges, and he remembered actively wondering why. He remembered flaring up with anxiety about getting tears and snot all over Kisumi's uniform and expressing this in an extremely muffled moan, to which Kisumi had simply tightened his hold with sureness. And he remembered crying even harder at that.

Kisumi had never asked him what was wrong, and somehow Asahi had known that was exactly the right thing for him to do in that moment. He wasn't sure why, but if Kisumi had spoken, it would have been a different experience entirely, but he hadn't. He never said a word, just stood there in resolution, still, solid, and calm for the entire fifteen minutes it took for Asahi to calm down.

Asahi had stopped telling everyone how much he hated Kisumi after that, because it wasn't true anymore.

"Dammit," Asahi huffed under his breath, turning away with his hands on his hips before he could see Kisumi's three-point shot make it in. He grimaced and closed his eyes against the beads of sweat dripping down his face, head tossed back. The salt was already beginning to sting. He hated that the most about non-water sports. Chlorine getting into his eyes was fine, but sweat? No thanks.

"Whew!" Kisumi sighed loudly, the humor and endorphins vivid in his voice. "I thought for sure I was going to miss that one."

"Go ahead and rub it in," Asahi said stiffly, using the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. "Fuck," he hissed, trying to blink the burn away.

"You sweat like a pig outside of the water."

"Pigs don't sweat," Asahi shot back, squinting at that stupid smile with one eye.

"They do a little bit. You don't like American expressions? It's funny."

"They don't make any sense."

"Not if you don't know the context."

"Shit. Toss me a water."

Kisumi ventured over to their belongings and fished out a bottle, lobbing it immediately to Asahi, who fumbled the catch for a brief second then poured half the bottle on his face. He flicked his head and wiped his eyes again, now blinking clearly. He blew out a pacified breath then downed the rest of the water and glanced back. Kisumi's cheeks were puffed up with water as well, and as he swallowed, Asahi watched a few drops of sweat slide down his neck from his hairline. He raked his pink hair back again and the redhead looked away.

Kisumi breathed out another exaggerated sigh. "Well, Asahi, I thought for sure today would be the day."

"You're a smug fuck."

"Mmm, you're not as crude today," Kisumi said with pouting lips, as though disappointed. He propped his hands on his hips. "Something must be wrong, huh? You're off your game. No wonder I kept winning. I knew something wasn't right. I kept telling myself, Kisumi, Asahi is too great at everything to keep losing in basketball."

"Go eat shit, brown-noser," Asahi said, flicking the back of Kisumi's head as he passed to get to his stuff.

Kisumi chuckled through his teeth, rubbing at the back of his head. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, brightening like a flood light in a stadium. "I know what you need." He skipped over and threw an arm around Asahi's shoulders. "Let's have a race!"

"Are you for real?" Asahi complained, wiping his face with a towel now. "We've been running back and forth on this court for almost an hour already."

Kisumi giggle, shaking his shoulders. "Asahi, you're so funny! I meant, let's go for a swim."

Asahi pursed his lips against a smile, determined not to look too eager about the prospect. "You want to race me in the pool?" he said, casting a side-eye with his brow raised.

"Yes! Surely you'll win a friendly competition in your own element."

Asahi scoffed and pushed Kisumi's head away. "I don't need your pity points. If I'm going to race, I want a challenge. You don't even know how to swim seriously."

Kisumi leaned an elbow on his shoulder this time, and Asahi pretended not to have an opinion about it. "You can teach me then. You're going to be a swim coach, aren't you? And you said you wanted field experience already."

The grin spread too easily. Asahi was already kicking up his chin with confidence. "I suppose you're right about that. It would be quite the challenge teaching someone like you to swim."

"Oh, I'm sure!"

"If I can teach you, I can probably teach anybody."

"Without a doubt!"

"Like my own personal guinea pig."

"Can guinea pigs swim?"

"I thought you were a fan of idioms," he said, flicking Kisumi in the forehead this time.

He snickered and rubbed the space between his eyebrows with squinting eyes. "You have monkey fingers, Asahi."

"Enough about the monkeys!" Asahi shouted much too loudly.

Kisumi's eyes were shimmering with joy. He clasped his hands innocently behind his back. "But I've been waiting all day."

Asahi scoffed, turning away to swipe up his bag and toss it over his shoulder. "Get your stuff. I need to cool off."

Kisumi hurriedly plucked up his things and jogged after Asahi to catch up, beaming all the while.

He wasn't a heavy sweater the way Asahi was, but the glossy sheen of his skin and the way his t-shirt stuck to his back was something — and not a bad something either. It was annoying really. No one said Kisumi should have the right to be one of the attractive sweaters. Or, well … He didn't look sloppy, was the point — not the way Asahi felt, pinching and pulling at his gym clothes to get them to stop sticking to his skin. Especially his shirt. He joined Kisumi for basketball often, but wearing shirts while he was active was still an odd thing to him. He was glad they were going for a swim. That was his favorite way to finish a workout.

Except that Kisumi casually giggled about not having a swimsuit with him, then proceeded to talk in a circle, wondering if he should just swim in his basketball shorts, or maybe just his underwear would suffice, and once he got to thinking out loud about skinny dipping, Asahi explosively shouted that he could just borrow one of his suits, to which Kisumi quite expectedly laughed.