Rubric Score

The sound of her strokes slows, and she glides to the edge of the pool, her hands grasping the metal handhold. She pulls herself out of the water, her body emerging from the surface with a soft sluice of liquid. Water streams down her skin, creating tiny rivulets that catch the fading light.

She reaches for a towel draped over the pool's edge, wrapping it around her body with a practiced ease. The terrycloth is rough against her skin, but she doesn't seem to notice. She pads over to the bench, her bare feet making soft squelching sounds on the tile.

As she dries herself, her movements are economical, her eyes never leaving yours. The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, she seems to be considering whether to answer. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glare, but she doesn't squint, her gaze locked on yours with an unnerving intensity.

"Hokkaido," she says finally, her voice low and contemplative. The word is a statement, not a question. She sits down beside you on the bench, the towel wrapped around her like a cocoon, her shoulder brushing against yours.

"It's... different," she continues, her eyes drifting away from yours, focusing on some point beyond the pool. "People are different. They... they don't understand me, I guess. Not really. They see the uniform, the grades, the swimming... and they think that's all there is to me."

She shrugs, a small, self-deprecating smile playing on her lips. "I was... restless, I suppose. I wanted to get out, see what else was out there. Ryujin was far enough, I guess."

The towel slips slightly, and she adjusts it, her fingers tucking the edge under her arm. The movement is almost absent-minded, her mind still on the memories she's conjuring.

"My family's... complicated," she says, her voice dropping to a murmur. "My parents are... they care, but they don't really... get it. They want me to be this perfect, obedient daughter, and I'm just... not that. I'm not really sure who I am, to be honest."

She glances at you, a fleeting look that holds a world of vulnerability. "But being here... it's been... good. I can be whoever I want, I guess. And I've met... people."

Her gaze drops, her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. "People like you."

The silence that follows is comfortable, a warm, companionable blanket that wraps around the two of you. The sound of the pool's filtration system hums in the background, a gentle white noise that underscores the stillness.

Bell's shoulder nudges yours, a gentle, affectionate touch. "Thanks for asking," she says, her voice soft. "It means a lot."