Chapter Text
Why is life a repetitive cycle?
It’s like riding a bicycle, exciting at first, but gets tiring. Some may be motivated and have a direction to follow with an ultimate goal. But some like you, demotivated and disinterested, may have to cycle longer until their bodies wear out because they have no exact destination.
Well, some might get lucky and find a purpose along the way but some might stumble. And you’re one of the stumbling ones.
It’s the second week of a new semester and just like any other Wednesday on campus, you have to attend classes, socialise with your peers and do your assignments in your free time (you can't even call it free time anymore). But today is a slightly different Wednesday when your friend, dressed in pink, spills a breaking news.
“Guys, did you hear about it?” Nico says excitingly with her hands clasped together — a posture of an imminent serious discussion.
“About what?” Yan replies nonchalantly; her eyes glued to her iPad. She’s also dressed in pink.
“Apparently, our athletes won a few gold medals from the recent sports tournament!”
“Who won?” Yan asks to keep the conversation going.
“Quite a number.” You join in the conversation. “ Our female archery, female basketball and male volleyball won.”
“Did you go and watch them during the semester break?” Nico asks.
“Yeah. I had to for my documentary.” You answer while sipping your iced latte.
“The most talked about victory is Mahito from Men Swimming. They said he beat his previous record.” Nico continues talking.
“Mahito huh?” You say. “The long-blue-haired guy.”
“Yeap that one,”
“Yeah, I tried talking to him after his competition but the security was quite strict.” You bitterly remember the shame you went through when you got chased out. He’s not even an Olympic athlete, so that level of protection is ridiculous. But on the other hand, you can understand that he’s a rising star, so why bother appearing in a small-scale documentary?
“Damn, so it is true he is a diva.” Yan comments while eating her sandwich.
“I’m doomed if I don't get any athletes for the documentary honestly. I won't be able to quit the club like I want to.”
Ever since your first year of university, you joined a film and media club where you started as a casual club member who does mundane preparations. But now that you have advanced to your third year, you are the essential lineup of the club. Of course, being part of the lineup comes with great responsibilities such as producing your own short films.
But you’re halfway through the tenure and want to step down from your position already. Not because the environment is toxic, but because life, in general, is getting more monotonous. You desperately need a break yet you can’t, so now, your mind is the one breaking.
“Oh God. That sounds like a cult. You can't leave if you don't contribute something.” Nico makes a horrified face.
“Yeah, they’ve been pushing me mainly because I have not published anything under my name. It was one of the policies that every line–up has to make a film, no matter how big or small.” You explain. You’ve been thinking that perhaps, it is partly your fault too for joining an extremely passionate club and losing motivation halfway.
You’re unsure how or why exactly the loss of passion started, but you guess it’s your inability to catch up with the fast-paced life. That is the root of the problem.
“I see.” Nico says. “ I guess they just want you to benefit from something, so you can include it in your resume later on.”
You give a small nod.
“Maybe try other athletes? How about Maki or Nobara?” Yan, despite her poker face, always tries to manoeuvre around a problem.
“Didn’t respond either. I think last semester, they were all busy preparing for the tournament.”
“How about ‘athletes’ who are no longer ‘athletes’?” Nico suggests.
That suggestion is out of the box, but interesting.
“Hmm, like fallen prodigies?” You wonder if there were such individuals. Would they even be willing to feature in and talk about their broken dreams?
“Yeah! We had one good swimmer before Mahito,” Nico pauses, “but agh I forgot his name. All I remember was he stopped joining tournaments and no one really knows if he’s coming back.”
“Was he injured?” You ask curiously.
“No. They say he was perfectly in good form.”
“Was he good?”
Nico nods. “One of the strongest”
“Didn’t you say he was quite handsome too?” Yan adds on.
“Oh yeah, many said he looked better than Mahito. Too bad he’s an unknown now.”
“Oh, I’ll look at that.” You say, getting immersed in that there is in fact such a person. “Thanks guys for the ideas.”
-
As always, at the end of every Wednesday evening is weirdly, a club meeting. This is when your division, the sports division, gathers to update each other on their progress, current workload, and a time for bonding too.
“Now, do you have anything, Name?” Your head of sports, Mai, asks holding a pen in her hand, very much ready to jot down any updates from you.
The film and media club is segregated into many divisions; sports, nature, arts, entertainment and many more. After a fair share of experience, you have earned your spot as one of the sport’s producers, but despite such a grand title, you have not contributed much.
“Uh, about our documentary, we are still finding an athlete.” Your words stammer a little. “A lot of athletes have been ignoring our messages.”
“I see.” She says, not looking at you but you know there is a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“But we’re planning to approach maybe some retired or fallen athletes?” You say, trying to make up for your incompetency.
“Like who really? And who is going to watch retired athletes?”
“There is one, he was a swimmer before Mahito.” You repeat Nico’s words nervously. “But I’m not sure- many said he was quite handsome.”
“Oh?” She arches the end of her eyebrow, finally looking at you. “Is this Gojo Satoru we’re talking about?”
Gojo? Never heard of that name. In fact, you never cared about local university sports until this year. But because you’re so desperate and ashamed of yourself, you immediately say yes to whichever name comes out of Mai’s mouth.
“Yes, him!”
“That’s a good backup plan, but I’m not sure how you’re going to get a hold of him.” She says worryingly. “He was quite famous a year ago, on par with Mahito’s level, but he’s laying low for now which is a shame.” Mai explains with quite a knowledge about this supposedly handsome swimmer. “I think it’d be great if we could have him in our documentary. His fans would love his pretty face on a screen.”
“Do you know if he still studies here?” You inquire to dig up a bit more information.
“Some say he’s on a study break since last semester.”
“I see.” You press your lips together and feign a confident smile. “I’ll try my best. Definitely.”
Mai then moves on to the next agenda in the meeting. While she’s talking, your mind becomes dizzy with what you’re going to do now. You wonder how you are going to find this Gojo Satoru when you do not know anything about him at all.
Does he even exist? Surely he does, right? For now, Nico is your only hope.
The meeting ends shortly after, so you pick up your bag and head to the nearest cafe to buy a dessert. You need something to eat while doing your submission for tonight. You also need to do some research about Gojo Satoru and his current whereabouts.
Above you, the clouds begin to cling together, appearing murky and covering the sun. You hear the slight thunder, so you fasten your steps to the cafe because you did not bring an umbrella today. The worst-case scenario is to walk in the rain to your dormitory, but perhaps that would be a blessing in disguise.
In the serene cafe, you choose your favourite cake and make your payment hastily at the counter. Your eyes keep looking out at the window, thankfully there are no raindrops yet. Not until you step out of the store and rain begins to pour heavily, like nature is laughing at your face.
“Shit.” You curse with your hand holding out and collecting the raindrops. You definitely need to get back as soon as possible because time is running fast, and you need to finalise your assignment before the clock hits midnight.
Fuck it, you thought. It is either a no-submission or drenched clothes, so you pick the latter. You exhale steadily, determined that you are going to run under the rain, no matter what. But as you are about to take a step forward, your backpack is pulled backwards, causing you to stumble against a lean–figure.
You jolt, a little surprised by the sudden movement. You look back to what pulled you in under the roof, and there stands a man behind you, towering, and looking at you closely.
“Miss Rain, do you want to get struck by the lighting?” He says with a snide remark and looks at you. Despite the sarcastic question, you are drawn by his melodic voice.
And his eyes. They’re extremely blue.
“No.” It takes you a while to break eye contact. You then shift your gaze at the rain, but your mind is still thinking of how his eyes are bluer than the rainwater.
“Then why are you risking your life?” He lets go of your backpack and stands next to you, elbows slightly brushing each other.
The left side of his face is mesmerising.
“In a rush.” You only give a brief answer, too stunned by his presence.
The sound of the rain is loud and drumming, but it cannot compete with the sound of your heart, beating fast for unknown reasons. Is the attraction sinking in?
He raises the corner of his lips and shakes his head slightly. “But still, it’s dangerous.”
You muster up the courage to look at him once again, and you notice how well-kept he looks. Simple, yet still attractive. Not to mention, his body proportions, though covered by his white t-shirt and cargo jeans, still shine through. Tall, lean, protruding chest, and sufficiently muscular, with his veins popping through his arms.
He must be some kind of athlete, is he?
While you’re discreetly checking him out, he rummages through his big black bag. It looks like a sports bag.
“Here you go.” He hands out a folded yellow umbrella to you.
“Eh? What about you?” You say, almost confused. You did not expect that gesture.
“I work here.” He points at the cafe you just visited. “So, I don't need it for now. You can return it tomorrow, just put it in front of the shop.”
Hesitantly, you take the umbrella in your hand.
“Thank you.” You say. “What’s your name, by the way? So I can write a note that this umbrella is yours when I leave it here tomorrow.”
That's a half-lie. You genuinely wanted to know his name for your personal interest.
He answers your question, but the words from his mouth dissolve in the sudden sound of striking thunder. You squint your eyes trying to read his lips.
“I’m sorry I can't hear you?” You raise your voice, unable to catch his name.
He repeats it, his voice blending with the dawned air, but you still can't decipher the syllables. You even find yourself tip-toeing a little for a better look.
He chuckles softly, seeing your effort. He lowers his body, bringing his height closer to you and you can see his white hair fluttering down. He’s even more beautiful up close.
“Gojo,” he whispers with a sweet smile. “Gojo Satoru”.
Your heart skips a beat.
Not only because of the sudden proximity and smile, but the rhythm of his name brings a sense of familiarity to you. You realise that this is the man you are looking for. The fallen swimming prodigy who has been hiding from the world, but today, the world brought him to you. It is as if fate has tied you to this exact time and moment. Like a revelation, a prophecy. The world is no longer laughing at you — it is kind and giving.
He can make your project a dream come true. He is right here, standing next to you.
“Gojo, your shift starts now.” An interrupting voice from the cafe calls for him.
“Well, that’s my cue to go.” Gojo smiles and gives a small wave. “See ya, Miss Rain.”
He glances at you before leaving — a short, momentary glance under the cafe roof, enough to make you remember him. And somehow, the perilous rain and thunder stop.
There is a stilled comfort in the air – the smell of an after-rain, musky and earthy, blending in with the aroma of brewed coffee. A ray of dimmed sunlight pierces through the grey clouds, almost like the world is signalling to you, that your light, has come.