Disney princess that he is, Makoto doesn't react straightaway to being drowned at first provocation. He figures it must've been another swimmer's idea of a practical joke — mess around with the obvious tryhard doing laps so early in the morning, or maybe he'd caught on the dividers and was spurring on his own personal torment, so when he catches sight of that mechanical atrocity clamped around one foot, he doesn't take it lightly.
As it is, his behavior might not be above reproach, but it's an understandable course of action, which should feasibly give Makoto a free pass when he's later held at metaphorical gunpoint for shrieking like his leg was milliseconds away from being sawed off when Pochi assaulted him. It's perfectly normal to cry uncle and scream in dismembered, fitful bursts of air as he abruptly loses the very equanimity keeping him afloat and sinks head-first.
Seriously, think about his mindset, barely six in the morning and still clambering to full wakefulness. There wasn't supposed to be anyone around, and with lifeguards like Oz and Elliot, it's no real surprise there's no one around to deal with traumatic fallouts coming to life or the possibility of Eldritch Abominations residing in the local pool. It's a big deal. It's a really big deal, he's not dramatizing anything. And through the saturated haze, he's just lucky no one's taking a cheap shot at his soon-to-be desecrated corpse.
Enter Koujaku, waterlogged and sporting hair that was once likely insured for at least 5,000 credits a strand. His advance is no less gallant as he strides out, ready to amend every wrong with a flick of his hand. A paragon of chivalry come to his rescue, apparently.
Wow, his hero.
But once Koujaku proves himself to be no more buoyant than a sinking rock, Makoto kicks into self-preservation mode and ... just stands up, coughing out water and rapidly scrubbing at his face. He's tall enough that the water doesn't even encroach on the periphery of his nose, making this whole affair just a little melodramatic, given that Pochi's halted the blitzkrieg onslaught on Makoto's toes the moment Koujaku hurled himself into the water and has since lapsed into torpid impassiveness, revolving slow circles around the thrashing bundle snagged on one ladder end at the bottom of the pool.
... Well, then.
Taking a minute breath, he dives beneath, freeing him of the snags in one fluid movement, and drags him upward. Breaking the surface at roughly the same time, he shakes his head clear of water, he gives the guy a once-over, relative concern coaxing clean out of his features.
"Are you alright? Your ... um, is 'Pochi' yours?" Makoto inquires with no small degree of mortification, gesturing over at the hippo CYbuddy paddling circles around them with loitering sluggishness. "He's okay, too."
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As it is, his behavior might not be above reproach, but it's an understandable course of action, which should feasibly give Makoto a free pass when he's later held at metaphorical gunpoint for shrieking like his leg was milliseconds away from being sawed off when Pochi assaulted him. It's perfectly normal to cry uncle and scream in dismembered, fitful bursts of air as he abruptly loses the very equanimity keeping him afloat and sinks head-first.
Seriously, think about his mindset, barely six in the morning and still clambering to full wakefulness. There wasn't supposed to be anyone around, and with lifeguards like Oz and Elliot, it's no real surprise there's no one around to deal with traumatic fallouts coming to life or the possibility of Eldritch Abominations residing in the local pool. It's a big deal. It's a really big deal, he's not dramatizing anything. And through the saturated haze, he's just lucky no one's taking a cheap shot at his soon-to-be desecrated corpse.
Enter Koujaku, waterlogged and sporting hair that was once likely insured for at least 5,000 credits a strand. His advance is no less gallant as he strides out, ready to amend every wrong with a flick of his hand. A paragon of chivalry come to his rescue, apparently.
Wow, his hero.
But once Koujaku proves himself to be no more buoyant than a sinking rock, Makoto kicks into self-preservation mode and ... just stands up, coughing out water and rapidly scrubbing at his face. He's tall enough that the water doesn't even encroach on the periphery of his nose, making this whole affair just a little melodramatic, given that Pochi's halted the blitzkrieg onslaught on Makoto's toes the moment Koujaku hurled himself into the water and has since lapsed into torpid impassiveness, revolving slow circles around the thrashing bundle snagged on one ladder end at the bottom of the pool.
... Well, then.
Taking a minute breath, he dives beneath, freeing him of the snags in one fluid movement, and drags him upward. Breaking the surface at roughly the same time, he shakes his head clear of water, he gives the guy a once-over, relative concern coaxing clean out of his features.
"Are you alright? Your ... um, is 'Pochi' yours?" Makoto inquires with no small degree of mortification, gesturing over at the hippo CYbuddy paddling circles around them with loitering sluggishness. "He's okay, too."