Natalie Edelstein: Thank you so much for the praise! I hope that I can write a mystery juicy enough to sink your teeth into~ As the first reviewer for this story, would you like some kind of prize? A oneshot fanfic? Or perhaps if you have an idea to inject into the story, I can work it in?

Akiyuzu-chan: It's the first time anyone has said something that nice to me~ I don't think this topic is too used in Free! fandoms though? Or are you talking about the general fandoms out there?

Shin-kai Syndrome: Makoto's personality is a little... different in this fanfic, but you can only say it is expected once you learn of the life he's led. I plan to explore it more in the next chapter, so please keep reading. :)

I do not own Free! Iwatobi Swim Club or any of the characters in it.

Thank you all who read my previous chapter. In this second one, I took the advice from a senpai and tried to explore Haruka's character a little more. I hope to improve in writing as time goes on, so please give me tips if possible about anything in my writing style that you think I should change. I would appreciate it.

Haruka was used to getting what he wanted.

Obviously it was because he was the son of an elite family with money to spare, but it was also because Haruka did not actually demand that much. The only frustrating things about him were his stoic attitude and his obsessive love for water.

But none of the maids or butlers could ever say that he ever made unreasonable demands. If he ever broke or spilled something, he himself would take the responsibility to clean it up. Though he was prideful, he knew when to show humility and apologize for his actions. And if he was ever angry, it wasn't because of selfish reasons, it was always about the other person's sake.

Like the time where the house steward's youngest son called Haruka 'Haruka-san' and used the honorfics by accident. Haruka had slapped the young boy, not even six years old, across the face and ordered him to never do it again. The young boy, lesson learned, stopped immediately. Now he would never make the same mistake and could avoid punishment from people who were less lenient.

But as that particular incident showed, Haruka was incredibly clumsy when it came to social interaction. That same young boy was now terrified of Haruka and ran away anytime he saw him. It never occurred to Haruka that hitting the child for disrespect was a bad thing; he himself had gotten hit plenty by his parents or his deceased grandmother as a child. Often it was because he couldn't stop his mouth from saying what was on his brain. Perhaps that was why he didn't talk much as he grew older.

Speaking soon became a chore because everyone misunderstood or considered him an odd. Surrounded by such people, Haruka didn't bother conveying his thoughts anymore. It seemed so pointless and superficial...

At least until Makoto came along.

.

.

.

"Master Haruka, would you like any tea?"

"..."

"Ah, you would prefer water? Then I will go fetch a fresh pitcher for you."

Sitting on the wide window seat, Haruka watched as Makoto exited from the room, wondering just how he looked in his servant's green eyes. Perhaps his face showed more emotion than he thought? Glancing at the mirror, his reflection difficult to see because of the rain and dim lighting, stared back at him in total apathy. Haruka wondered if he were struck down right at that instant, would his reflection change expression at all?

Somewhat entertained by the idea, he fancied that at the other side of the mirror or window there was an entire world just like the one he was in. But perhaps everything there was in reverse, like the mirror reflections themselves. Or maybe they were upside down in which the ceiling was the floor, but since it was under their feet it would be a floor instead of a ceiling. Did they call it a ceiling because it was the opposite of floor? But how could a floor be a ceiling and a ceiling be a floor? Maybe –

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the door swing open behind him and he looked around, hoping that it was Makoto and his water. To his disappointment, however, it was just another one of the maids – he didn't know her name nor did he care – holding his desired pitcher of water. She set it down quietly on the nearby dresser and bowed nervously, fiddling with her serving yukata. "Do you require anything else, Young Master Haruka?"

"..."

She looked increasingly terrified. "Y-Young Master?"

Haruka mentally sighed. Well, at least he knew how his other servants viewed him. "No..."

"Oh! T-Then I shall take my leave," she bowed again quickly and had her hand on the doorknob before Haruka called out to her again.

"What happened to Makoto?"

"Ah," the servant girl managed to fix a glib smile on her face. "He was called away for another matter. He asked me to give this to you," she pointed at the pitcher. "He said to tell you that it would only take an hour or so to complete his task. Well then, please excuse me," and she hurried away without another word.

Haruka stared accusingly at the pitcher, as if it were its fault for not bringing Makoto back with it. "Well," he muttered, "it's not like I need anyone to pour the water for me," he grabbed a glass cup nearby and filled it with his favorite liquid. The refreshing taste of pure spring water soothed his taste buds and irritation and he sighed contently.

His bookshelf was made especially for him out of polished mahogany wood and filled to the brim with empty sketchbooks. It had been a gift from his previous art teacher, who had constantly swooned over Haruka's immense talent. Of course, both of his parents thought that his ability was useless and had nothing to do with the family business so art was still merely a hobby for him. A pleasurable hobby perhaps, but a hobby nonetheless.

He had filled up about one-third of the sketchbooks, leaving more than half of them empty. Selecting a new one, he opened up to a fresh page and picked up a pencil. He sat himself back down at the window seat and stared outside. The rain was beautiful and, in the sun, made everything glisten with light. But right now it was cold and dark and not exactly the ideal picture for drawing. Haruka was in the mood to draw something more cheerful anyway.

Closing his eyes lazily, he leaned back with his head against the wall and waited for inspiration to take him and whisk him on his merry way.

.

.

.

Two and a half sketches of Makoto later, Haruka was getting rather bored.

Tracing the jawline with light strokes, he wondered what sort of body his servant had underneath all those clothes. The only skin he had ever seen was of Makoto's face and hands. Otherwise, his servant had remained fully clothed. His artist senses tingled – he was sure that Makoto had a sculptured body, fit for art.

There was a series of quiet knocks on his door and Haruka's eyes lit up. He recognized that rhythm easily. "Come in."

Makoto stepped in, his green eyes clearly apologetic. "I'm sorry, Master Haruka. I was called away for other duties and couldn't come back sooner."

"It's fine," Haruka looked down at his sketchbook. For some reason, seeing Makoto in real life and imagining what he was like with his clothes off put a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"What are you drawing, Master Haruka? May I have a look?"

Haruka held out the sketchbook to him without complaint and watched Makoto's expression carefully as he examined the two and a half drawings. First Makoto's eyebrows creased slightly in confusion, then they went up in surprise. And then, to the young master's secret relief, those beautiful green eyes lit up, shining so brightly that they could put diamonds to shame.

"I am very flattered, Master Haruka," Makoto chuckled softly, his eyes still glowing with happiness. "I never imagined that Master Haruka could draw so well."

"It's just a hobby," Haruka grumbled, somewhat embarrassed. He reached out to take the sketchbook back and scrutinized the differences between his sketch and the real thing. Makoto leaned over to tap lightly on the unfinished sketch.

"Will you please show me this one when you are done?" he asked.

"... Sure," Haruka replied. Makoto drew away but then his master caught him on the arm.

"Master Haruka?"

"... Before, did one of the women call you out?"

"Hm? ... I suppose you could say that. Why do you ask, Master Haruka?"

"... No reason," Haruka let go of his sleeve and sat back. Makoto smiled curiously at him and turned around towards his bookshelf of sketchbooks.

"If possible, may I have a look at these as well?"

"Sure," Haruka said, his mind not processing anything Makoto said. Because at that moment, that small moment of where Makoto had come close to him to look at his drawings, Haruka had caught an unmistakable scent wafting off the taller male.

The scent of a lady's perfume...

.

.

.

"My friends are coming over to visit me this Saturday," Haruka said as Makoto scrubbed his back for him. Both teens were in the bathroom. Haruka, much do his disappointment, was the only one naked. Makoto still kept fully clothed even at the expense of getting them wet.

"Oh? Shall I prepare the guest room for them?" Makoto asked, pouring a bucket of hot water on Haruka's back to wash off the suds.

"Yeah, two of them. And possibly two more for their servants."

"Very well then," Makoto reached for a container of shampoo. "Just out of curiosity, who are your friends?"

"One of them is a childhood friend and the current owner of his family business. The other one is the son of the Prime Minister," the young master said offhandedly.

"Oh, I see. That is very admirable for someone of Master Haruka's age to run his own – " there was a loud clattering noise and Haruka turned in alarm. Fortunately, the shampoo was unharmed. Makoto's face was gaping with shock. "T-The son of the Prime Minister? The Prime Minister?" he squeaked. It was funny to hear such a high-pitched voice come out of such a huge body.

"Yeah..."

"... Master Haruka, I had no idea that you had such influential friends."

"He's just an annoying person who latched himself on to me," Haruka said dismissively. He heard Makoto laugh softly behind him and he frowned without turning around. "What?"

"I'm a little sad," Makoto's tone was light and teasing. The young master shuddered as he could feel the soft warm breath on his bare neck. "I thought I was the only one who could see Master Haruka's good points."

Ah, he doesn't smell like perfume anymore...

"You're annoying," Haruka dipped his hand into a bucket of water and swept upwards to splash his servant in the face. Makoto gave a shout of surprise before lapsing into coughing; some of the water had gotten in his nose.

"That wasn't nice, Master Haruka," Makoto choked out, pushing back his wet bangs. Haruka, watching the water drip down his face and down towards his neck, inadvertently swallowed. "Well, at any rate, I will prepare the best room and comfort for your friends. Just leave it to me."

"Of course," the blue-eyed teen scoffed as he picked himself up to step into the bathtub. "You wouldn't be worthy of being my servant otherwise."

"Slave, Master Haruka. There is a difference."

"I hate that word. Stop using it."

"Yes, Master."

.

.

.

"HARU-CHAN!"

Haruka winced in surprise as a shorter overenthusiastic blonde flung himself at him. It was unpleasant to be interrupted from a daydream in your bed by getting pounced on by a shota. "Nagisa...!"

"Haru-chan! I've missed you so much! Why don't you come visit me? How come you haven't written me a letter? Haru-chan!"

"Nagisa, you're too noisy. Shut up for a bit," Haruka grumbled, rubbing at his temples. He waved away the escorting maid, who looked appalled by the situation. "Shouldn't the future Prime Minister have a little more dignity?"

"Just because my old man is the Prime Minister doesn't mean that I have to be," Hazuki Nagisa shrugged carelessly. He was only a few inches shorter than Haruka, with blonde hair, pink eyes, and a cheery attitude that seemed to brighten the room; or, in Haruka's case, irritated his eyes. "My sisters are better at that political mumbo-jumbo than me. One of them can be the Prime Minister."

"Girls can't be Prime Ministers."

"Who says? Girls can do anything that boys can. They just talk too much sometimes, that's all," Nagisa flopped down on to the red velvet couch of Haruka's room. "My sisters are strong, you know? They used to bully me all the time as kids too! It was really difficult for me!"

"You've already told me," Haruka sat down in the armchair next to the couch. "Is Rin coming soon?"

"Rin-chan should be here soon. He lives in the opposite direction than me from Haru-chan's house," Nagisa pouted. "Because of that, it's so tedious to visit him! It's a good thing that Haru-chan's house is right between ours!"

"Even so, don't use my house as a meeting point!" Haruka grumbled, feeling particularly aggravated. It was so obvious that even Nagisa paused mid-rant and peered at his friend's face.

"Haru-chan, are you alright? Did I come at a bad time? If that's the case, then I can just go meet up with Rin-chan and go back to his house..."

Immediately Haruka felt guilty. "No, it's okay. You can stay," he said quickly. "It's just..."

Nagisa frowned as Haruka's voice drifted off. "Haru-chan! I'm not a mind-reader, as awesome as that would be! You need to clearly say what you're thinking!" he

"... My manservant was called away for some kind of 'duty'," Haruka had to resist the temptation to use air quotes. "He left this morning and hasn't come back yet."

"Oh! Haru-chan, have you gotten a new servant? A personal one? What's his name?"

"Makoto."

"... Makoto?"

"Just Makoto. He doesn't have a last name."

"Oh. Oh! I see..." Nagisa mused into thoughtful silence. "He must be a great guy, huh?"

Haruka blinked. "Huh? Why do you say that?"

"Because if Haru-chan misses him so much already, then he must have been nice to have around!" the blonde gave him a cheeky grin. "When he comes back, make sure you introduce him to me, okay?"

"... Okay," Haruka gave him a rare tiny smile.

"Ah, did he ever tell you how to spell his name?"

"... Why would he know? Makoto shouldn't know how to read or write."

"Ah, that's true isn't it... most servants or lower-working class people don't know how to read or write, do they?"

"Most of the servants here don't."

"Hmm... then, when I'm Prime Minister, I'll open up a free-of-charge school that anybody can go to! Wouldn't it be good if everyone could have an education?"

"Didn't you say that you would let one of your sisters be the Prime Minister?"

"Don't nitpick over details, Haru-chan!"

Haruka sighed. Nagisa spoke of giving everyone an education while his own education was slightly questionable judging from his grades... not that Haruka could really talk.

Soon they were engaged in a lively discussion – well, lively as in Nagisa was spouting ideas and Haruka was quietly listening – of how to revamp the education system when a young man with matching wine red eyes and hair burst into the room.

"Sorry for being late," Matsuoka Rin apologized, his face looking harried. "My new servant got a little too curious with exploring your house, Haru," he pushed Nagisa's legs aside, still sprawled out on the couch, and plopped down next to him. Nagisa giggled as he draped his legs in Rin's lap. Rin gave him an affectionate slap on the back. "It's been a while, the two of you. How have you been?"

"Listen to this, Rin-chan! Haru-chan and I were discussing what it would be like if we could give the uneducated an education!"

"... But how would they be uneducated if they're educated? What would we call that?"

"Exactly!"

"What?!"

Haruka gave a quiet snort of disbelief. Sinking himself further down into the armchair he shut his eyes and let the bickering voices of his two friends wash over him.

He and Rin had known each other as children, considering that their families were in the same business and had reached a peaceful alliance between them. The only difference was that Rin's father had died when he was very young, making him the sole inheritor of the business. Determined at such a young age, Rin succeeded his father's work at twelve-years-old, rising to become a corporate star in the commerce industry. There had been many rough patches in his youth, as well as rocky areas in his friendship with Haruka, but Nagisa had stepped in like a blessed bridge, connecting them when they fell apart.

Nagisa may have been the son of the Prime Minister of all of Japan, but in reality he was just a giggly kid with a mischievous mind and an attitude permanently turned to immaturity. However, that didn't mean that the blonde didn't know how to be serious. Sympathetic to the nobles and commoners alike, Nagisa treated them all fairly with equal compassion. He loved the people of Japan, and its conspicuousness caused many to hope that he would be the next successor for ruling the country.

Nagisa and Haruka had been introduced through Rin, who had offered – without Haruka's knowledge – to let Nagisa be a guest in the Nanase household. It was the first time Haruka had ever seen someone with natural blonde hair. There were rumors that Nagisa was the son of a foreigner woman whom his father had an affair with... then again, considering that his would-be adoptive mother had died giving birth, the gossip was considered unimportant and untrue.

"Like I was saying, Rin-chan – "

"Will you listen to me, dammit?!"

There was a sharp knock on the door, sounding almost frantic. Haruka's heart leapt into his throat as his blue eyes instantly snapped open. "Enter!"

Makoto rushed in, his hair frazzled and his tie not quite put on straight. "I am so, so sorry, Master Haruka! My appointment carried on more than I thought it would. Please give me a moment to straighten myself...!" he began adjusting his tie when he realized that he and his master weren't alone. "Oh, are you Master's friends? My name is Makoto. I am Master Haruka's personal sla – servant. It is a pleasure to meet you," he bowed respectfully. Nagisa giggled at his mussed hair.

"Calm down, Makoto," Haruka reached out to smooth his hair for him, but when he pulled up close to him his nose couldn't help but wrinkle.

Again, the scent of perfume... but it's a different scent this time.

He opened his mouth to order Makoto to tell him exactly where he had been, only to realize that his servant's green eyes were not looking at him at all. Instead they were staring straight at his redhead friend, who had the exact same stunned expression on his face.

"R-Rin?"

"Makoto?"

It's a little shorter this time, but it is finals week at college (four down, one more to go and one more paper to do, whoo~). During break I hope to upload more... and to continue with my left off stories from other fandoms. Haha... ha... *sighs in depression*