Into The Water

Chapter Twelve: The Nightmare Continues

At least three times a week Mizuki finds herself standing before huge piles of dirty dishes—dishes for soy sauce, dishes for pickles, bento boxes, rice bowls, soup bowls and so on. No matter how hard she works, she can never seem to make a dent in that pile. This time she considers it a welcome distraction from her brother's unfortunate fall in the water.

She doesn't have too much time to think.

Thinking is bad.

Thinking is very, very bad.

The only downside is the swim club members dropping by often to eat, and it's not like she can forbid her friends from coming over when Dad is on good terms with the boys. They earned his respect and trust through hard work, and that's not easy to accomplish.

What's even more of a miracle, Dad practically took Haruka under his wing and taught him an incredible amount along the way: techniques, tricks―cheats, even―that Dad incorporates instinctively into his cooking every day, and he never once made the boy scrub the toilet during his shift.

"Lucky him," Mizuki grumbles, lazily rinsing another plate and moving on to the next one.

Nagisa leads the group as he marches into Suzuran's ramen shop after swim practice, dizzy with teenage hunger. They sit down and each order the usual, Rei still scanning the menu for something he hasn't tried before.

Mizuki can hear them slurp loudly and enjoying the meal wholeheartedly. She's wearing the uniform; a beige happi coat with arrow print, black trousers and matching apron. Armed with a tray she quickly makes a beeline for a vacant table in the back. Covering the right side of her face with the tray she successfully avoids being spotted by Haruka and the others.

With her heartbeat pounding in her ears, clammy hands, and stomach in a tight knot, she piles up the dishware quickly and efficiently. She's about to trot on her way when Haruka's familiar voice reaches her ears and startles her so badly she drops the tray with dishes on the floor.

Mizuki gives him a I-hope-you're-happy look―which he plainly is, judging by the amused sparkle in his eyes―and then focuses on cleaning up the mess. Makoto stoops down and gives her a helping hand, which she appreciates.

"How is little Daichi doing?"

The happiness she feels is replaced with regret in three seconds flat. Heat floods her cheeks, and shame tingles down her neck. "He's alright, I suppose."

She never asked her parents about him. In fact, the moment she got home from the hospital, Mizuki went straight to her room and shut the door. Once inside the relative privacy of her bedroom, she placed headphones over her ears and immersed herself in music.

Mom knocked loudly on her door, but Mizuki ignored it. For whatever reason, her phobia wasn't going away and she would be the one dealing with it.

This wasn't a problem she could pass off to her friends to solve for her. Her parents couldn't help either. Despite their efforts to overcome her phobia together with family and friends, she has to do this alone, and that was the most frightening thing of all.

Mizuki's cell phone was buzzing on her bed. Another missed call from Gou. When Mom came into her room, Mizuki reluctantly removed the headphones. "What?" she demanded.

"Why won't you come down?"

"I don't want to talk to anyone." She was seventeen. Rebelling against her parents from time to time was only natural.

"I'm calling your father..."

Mizuki closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear it. "Mom, please, let me be by myself. Just for a while."