[ If Haru told him he was an Olympic swimmer training at some nondescript college campus on the down-low, Makoto might've believed him right after this.

Panting heavily, the fingers of one of Makoto's hands insinuate themselves on the ledge. Blinking the water out of his eyes, he steadies himself, eventually settling for a soft, rueful snort. ]

You think? I lost, you know.

[ But his smile belies any disappointment one might come to expect from the defeated party as he hoists himself up to a sitting position. ]

You were really mesmerizing out there, Haru! I suspected you could go really fast, but I wasn't expecting that ... ! It really took me by surprise.

[ Just wait for him to catch his slip-up, any grasp of formality gone up in smoke. ]