Into The Water

Chapter Seven: Setting Up To Fail

Rin runs, long strides that eats the pavement. His hair is in his face, bunches jouncing as his feet impacts the asphalt surface. The words manliness and male, less interchangeable than they might seem, both describe him well. Manliness suggests a sort of toughness, though not without a sense of being humble. Male encompasses power as blunt and raw as sex. Neither descriptor would suffice without the other.

Muscled and athletic, he runs nearly every day, usually not long before sundown. Eyes up, watching the trail and the surroundings. Each footfall of the asphalt is the jolt of a syllable through his body: Vic-to-ry.

He feels like he can fly.

"Victory," Rin whispers under his breath. The word seems to give his feet wings, sending him down the path with a new surge of speed. A moment later he skids to a halt, putting his hands on his knees. Standing upright, he pushes his hand through his hair again and again as he heaves in air. Thirty seconds and he'll start running again. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.

A lone saxophone reaches his ears. Rin isn't particularly fond of jazz music, since all he hears is shitty stuff that makes him think of a bad porno. Or elevator music. Or a bad porno in an elevator.

But this soulful number is enough to get him in the groove. The sound increases to a roar, growing louder. A few more steps and he spots Mizuki, lifting the sax to her mouth, belting out music that would have people let their hair down and get out of their shoes, as well.

Listen to that saxophone. Now that is one sexy instrument. Rin clears his throat. "What the hell are you doing?" When she doesn't answer, he loudly speaks over the sound, yelling, "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

She abruptly stops playing and turns around. Startled, he jerks backwards and almost twists his ankle.

Holy shit.

His heart scampers into his throat and his eyes widen at the girl before him. With her eyes glowing mischievously in the night, Mizuki looks more cat than human.

"Oh, uh... sorry..." Mizuki approaches him. Her tenor saxophone dangles like an upside-down question mark from a strap around her neck. "I didn't mean to scare you." She glances at Rin, then averts her eyes and focuses on his red Fila running shoes as if deciding what to say next.

"Are you okay?"

Her voice, a rich sound that can melt ice, finally reaches his ears, pulling him out of his daze. But when he opens his mouth to answer, nothing comes out. She pauses, her hands holding onto the sax, waiting.

"That's my line. It's really late; shouldn't you be at home?" he scolds. Her eyebrows go up, looking at him in disbelief, and her grip on the instrument tightens.

"I'm sorry?"

"I outweigh you by, what, a ton? And I'm a guy," He sizes her up, realizing just how bad the situation could have been, were it anyone but him. "You can get seriously hurt, you now? If you meet a strange guy, you run and call the cops."

"Then I'm going to go," she says, already backing up. "I should go home, so..."

"Hold it!"

Mizuki's stomach jumps into her throat, and her voice cracks as she says, "W-what's wrong?"

"Just wait..."

Mizuki watches as he runs a hand over his head, having an inner conflict with himself. He doesn't want to be bothered with her, honestly. She's someone he met once and just happens to be on friendly terms with Haruka and the others.

On the other hand, he doesn't want to leave Mizuki to fend for herself in case some nutcase is lurking behind the corner. He's too nice, really. Rin finally comes to a decision and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll walk you home."