[ that's it? no build-up, no theory, just straight into the brawling stage?
maybe it's better that way. he's spent much of his life poring through technical texts about swimming, but nothing compares to the shock of a body sliding through the water: a battleground meant only for one. the rush of blood through his temples.
rin doesn't think, doesn't breathe, doesn't coordinate the ebb and flow of his breath with the release of his fist. he's been in tussles before: his childhood friend constantly wrestling him into the ground, frustration balling his fists and denting the walls. none of it has any bearing on the present, where he feels disconnected, powerless. like his fist is a pendulum and no matter how much force he puts behind the blow, it'll still swing back at him.
the backdrop is commonplace. his hands are damp. heine is a white shadow.
rin wonders - again - if he's made a mistake.
he grits his teeth. aiming for heine's face takes more than a moment of steeling himself. it goes against everything he knows, everything he believes in. but he does it. he thinks of the way heine had plucked the scalpel from his hand, easy as anything, and he does it. ]
no subject
[ that's it? no build-up, no theory, just straight into the brawling stage?
maybe it's better that way. he's spent much of his life poring through technical texts about swimming, but nothing compares to the shock of a body sliding through the water: a battleground meant only for one. the rush of blood through his temples.
rin doesn't think, doesn't breathe, doesn't coordinate the ebb and flow of his breath with the release of his fist. he's been in tussles before: his childhood friend constantly wrestling him into the ground, frustration balling his fists and denting the walls. none of it has any bearing on the present, where he feels disconnected, powerless. like his fist is a pendulum and no matter how much force he puts behind the blow, it'll still swing back at him.
the backdrop is commonplace. his hands are damp. heine is a white shadow.
rin wonders - again - if he's made a mistake.
he grits his teeth. aiming for heine's face takes more than a moment of steeling himself. it goes against everything he knows, everything he believes in. but he does it. he thinks of the way heine had plucked the scalpel from his hand, easy as anything, and he does it. ]