I do not own Free! Iwatobi Swim Club or any of the characters in it.

Hey, so this is my first chapter story for Free! It will later contain mature themes, mystery, and a lot of Haruka being confused about his feelings. This takes place, more or less, around the early 1900's when Japan first started integrating Western culture into their own. I'm not a history person and quite frankly, I pull a lot of this stuff out from Kuroshitsuji and Yuuutsu no Asa. If any historical buffs out there could give me a hand, that would have a huge help.

Well then, please enjoy reading below.

Quiet. Stillness. The soft yellow light bathed the marble tiles. Nanase Haruka, age 17, sunk himself further down in the warm water and sighed contently. He loved this time; the time that he could get away from everyone and immerse himself within the hot steaming liquid which soothed his nerves.

Haruka's life rotated entirely around water. His family, as it were, had ancestors ranging from fishermen to pirates. Now they were in charge of a spring water import business with thriving results.

The water was starting to chill slightly but the young master didn't care. He merely sank lower and fancied himself swimming in a cool lake on a hot summer day. Eagerly, the water lapped at his ears as if begging him to give himself over wholly. Complying, Haruka slid down the edge of his bathtub until he was lying flat against the tiled floor...

The world was flipped upside down as a gloved hand plunged into the watery stillness and grasped his forearm. Fighting it, Haruka attempted to yank away but the hand was stronger and it pulled him back up to the surface.

Sputtering, he reared up angrily like an enraged cat and glared at the intruder of his private time. Soft green eyes accompanied by a gentle smile gazed back at him, unperturbed.

"My apologies, Master Haruka," his personal servant Makoto said respectfully. He released Haruka's arm and began to peel off his wet glove. "I felt nervous when I saw you sink under the water, Master Haruka. I thought that perhaps you had fallen asleep."

"I'm fine," Haruka muttered. He still felt bitter about being interrupted. "Now leave me alone."

"Yes Master," Makoto stood. Haruka noted that his knees, which must have gotten splashed on, were wet. "Again, I apologize for my unnecessary interference."

Haruka did not bother with a reply and merely once more sank below the water's surface.

.

.

.

Makoto was a slave.

The politer term to put it, Haruka supposed, would be an unpaid servant. However, that meant that Makoto was basically a slave.

Haruka was not entirely sure of his servant's backstory, nor was he interested, but he had drawn a few of his own conclusions during his daily ponderings in the bathtub. The factual thing he knew was that Makoto was the same age, only a few months younger.

Makoto had come to the Nanase household only a few weeks ago. He had a well-groomed appearance and a handsome face which sent the maids in to a flutter of excited whispers. Makoto had no last name, meaning that he was most likely a child from the slums, perhaps the son of a prostitute. Whoever he was, he had been presented in front of Haruka as his new manservant. He had been dressed in attire similar to a footman, but his right ear sported a silver triangle earring. "He's a slave," his father stated in a loud voice. This time it sent all of the servants into controversial murmurs.

Being a slave meant that one's rights had either been taken away or sold. It meant that Makoto's standing was far below a typical servant-rank. If Haruka, the young master of an elite family, was an ocean, then his servants were ponds. Makoto, at best, would be a puddle.

Haruka did not want a slave. Growing up in a noble family with parents with a loveless marriage often caused Haruka to live under benign neglect with the dutiful care of his domestic retainers. Haruka was usually alone, and he preferred it to be that way.

He disliked Makoto, with his permanent smile and grass green eyes. He disliked his often unfazed attitude and gentle words. Most of all, he disliked the obvious sadness lurking behind his cheerful façade, but was never hinted at. It seemed that the others, servants or his parents, did not see it. Or perhaps all slaves had the same look in their eyes.

Either way, Haruka did not appreciate Makoto's presence. And he was determined to have Makoto leave of his own volition no matter what.

.

.

.

... Was what Haruka was planning, but much to his frustration, Makoto's seemingly unlimited patience bested him.

The slave seemed to have a natural inclination towards forgiveness. No matter how many things he carelessly flung or spilled on the floor, no matter the terrible things he would offhandedly say, no matter how much he flat out ignored him, Makoto would forever obey his orders or brush away his comments with that hated smile. There was not a speck of disgruntlement or anger to be seen, and Haruka was getting rather bored of acting like a spoiled brat. The young master was ordinarily self-sufficient and tried not to trouble his servants unless necessary.

Haruka, once more bathing in his beloved water, pondered of what exactly he could do to annoy his slave. Perhaps it was time to abuse his authority a little bit and force Makoto to do something he hated. But what did he hate? Haruka did not bother talking to him unless it was indispensable to his current need. Filling the bathtub was the most he had ever ordered him to do and even that was done with a cheery grin.

What could be done, he wondered, to make Makoto realize that he didn't want him?

Feeling tired from overthinking, he slowly shut his eyes and didn't open them again until Makoto came in an hour later to help him dress for bed. He hazily opened his eyes to frantic green eyes, a terrified voice, and a spinning room which made him feel the need to vomit.

.

.

.

When Haruka opened his eyes again, he was lying in his large and comfortable bed, the ceiling lights swimming in his vision. Oh, he thought blearily, I got sick again.

It didn't surprise him, at least not anymore. Since he frequently spent time swimming or bathing, occasionally he would get carried away and the water would get too cold for him. Then he would spend the next couple days in a foul mood because he wasn't allowed to even touch any bodies of water until he was completely healed, not that he always obeyed this rule. The servants would often avoid his room during these times, only stopping by to drop off trays of hot food for him to ignore because he wasn't hungry or up to it. Often times he would force them into filling his bathtub for him even if he was sick. They never refused him for long.

He sighed, irritated at himself for being so weak, and turned on his side to go back to sleep. He felt a slight tug on his bed sheets as if they were caught on something. Confused, he twisted his head to see a familiar mop of brown hair lying on the side of the mattress.

Swallowing a surprised noise, he gazed at Makoto, who had fallen asleep at his bedside with his head in his arms. Why was he here? Didn't he have the common sense to stay away like the rest of the servants? Being a new slave was no exception; he supposed it was the fault of the head butler for not informing him properly.

He felt a scowl form on his face. Grabbing Makoto by the shoulder, he shook him roughly, calling, "Hey, you. Wake up."

The slave made an undignified sound and lifted his head enough for Haruka to see one sleepy green eye. "Haru-chan...?"

Blue eyes widening in shock, he gave Makoto a hefty slap on the back of his head. Yelping, Makoto sat up immediately, rubbing the painful spot with a grimace.

"Since when are slaves allowed to address their masters with noble-use honorfics?" Haruka demanded, practically spitting acid. Makoto gasped and immediately rectified his mistake.

"I am so sorry!" he cried, looking as if he were about to cry. "I didn't mean to say such things, Master Haruka! I am sorry!" Makoto slid out of his chair to the floor and performed a dogeza on the ground, face pressed hard in to the carpet. "Please forgive me!"

Haruka was shocked to say the least. Makoto was usually so calm and collected that it was strange to see him act so frantic and scared. The change in attitude made him feel uncomfortable and he reached over the side of his bed to tug a lock of brown hair. "I'm not mad," he muttered. "I just – "

Suddenly a wave of nausea swept over him and he wobbled. In a flash, Makoto had the nearby wastebasket in his hands and under Haruka's face. "Here," Makoto coaxed him. Haruka retched and coughed, but it even if he felt it coming, it didn't.

"It won't come up," he muttered. His skin was starting to turn sickly pale and it felt sticky with sweat. He hated of how weak he appeared and hated that it was Makoto seeing him like this. He didn't even notice Makoto removing his gloves with his teeth until he felt a large hand on the back of his head.

"Please excuse me, but this is necessary," Makoto murmured gently. Haruka opened his mouth to demand an explanation when suddenly Makoto's long pointer finger was in his mouth and pressing against his uvula.

Haruka gagged and vomited straight in to the wastebasket. Makoto soothingly rubbed circles on his back with his clean hand as he emptied the little contents of his stomach. Coughing the last out, he felt Makoto wiping his mouth with his hand and promptly slapped it away. "That's dirty!" he managed to growl.

"But do you feel better?" Makoto asked with his damned smile. Haruka, too proud to admit it, turned his head to the side in a pout. He heard a soft chuckle and hated it.

"Please go back to sleep if you can," Makoto requested in a soft but firm voice. "Sleep is often the best medicine."

"I don't want to sleep," Haruka tried to sit up and failed. "Fill the bath. If I soak in hot water long enough, I can heal myself."

"No, Master Haruka," Makoto said even more firmly, pushing him down again with his clean hand. "Orders from the Master and Mistress. They say you are absolutely not allowed to bathe again until you completely break your fever. Bathing is the reason you became sick in the first place. What if your fever becomes worse?"

"It won't," Haruka snapped, squirming. His nightwear stuck to his skin with sweat and he hated the feeling. "Just obey my orders."

"I refuse."

Haruka shot him a glare with narrow eyes. None of the servants ever refused him anything if pushed. "You would defy your master?"

"Only for the sake of your wellbeing," Makoto pushed him down for the final time and tucked in the covers so snugly that Haruka, in his weakened state, could barely move. "Please go back to sleep. I will wash my hands and return shortly."

The door shut quietly behind him and Haruka scowled as he struggled. Unfortunately the struggling made him feel more and more tired and he soon gave up, once more slipping in to unconsciousness.

.

.

.

A cool, wet, welcomed feeling was gently caressing his body, cooling his fevered skin. Confused, Haruka reached out and grabbed on to somebody's warm hand, soaked with cold water. He heard soft splashing and his eyes snapped open.

Makoto jumped in surprise, almost dropping the small wet towel in his hand. "My goodness. You surprised me, Master Haruka," he exclaimed. The dim light next to the bed gave his silver earring a dull shine. Haruka ignored him and instead turned his head to stare at the small basin on his bedside table. He could see the clear liquid within and felt himself swallow.

"Oh, are you thirsty, Master Haruka?" Makoto asked, surprising him. "I brought a pitcher of water. Please wait a moment."

Makoto retreated from sight and from somewhere across the room, Haruka's ears caught the sound of pouring water and he attempted to sit upright. Feeling a cool breeze, he looked down and was shocked to see that he was half naked.

Makoto came back with a glass cup of water in his hand, which he handed to Haruka. Haruka glared at him, wondering why he had removed his clothes.

"Are you wondering why I undressed you?" Makoto asked politely. Haruka blinked. Again, had his slave read his mind...? "Earlier I noticed that you were squirming around as if you felt uncomfortable. I guessed that you wanted to bathe because you were sweating so much. I couldn't let you bathe, but the least I can do for you is to wipe you down," he gestured to the basin and towel. "After you have finished your water, please allow me to continue."

Haruka mentally weighed his options and had to admit to himself that he felt better with his skin being sweat-free. He nodded his consent and he saw Makoto's face light up with a dazzling smile.

Putting the cup to his lips, he thirstily gulped down the refreshing liquid until none of it remained. Makoto took back the cup and put it down on the bedside table before once more picking up the wet towel. "Please give me your arm, Master Haruka."

Haruka complied and felt Makoto's hand take it in his gentle but strong grip. Leaning back into his pillows, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being washed. Haruka hated being bathed by his servants because their touch was flighty and nervous, as if they were going to break something made of delicate glass. Makoto's touch was self-assured and strong, but at the same time, tender and it felt pleasant. If it was Makoto who bathed him, Haruka mused, he supposed he wouldn't mind.

"Would you like me to help you bathe from now on?" Makoto's voice cut in to his thoughts with unnerving precision. Snapping open his eyes, he stared into Makoto's emerald green eyes suspiciously.

"How are you doing that?"

"How am I doing what?"

"How are you able to tell what I'm thinking?"

Makoto blinked. Then he smiled, a bit incredulously. "Isn't it obvious from the faces you are making?"

It was Haruka's turn to blink, bewildered. For so long his servants at secretly complained behind his back about his expressionless behavior, about how it was so difficult to understand him. Having someone who was able to read his immobile face threw him for a loop.

"No one has ever said that to me before," was all he said aloud. Makoto tilted his head, a little confused.

"Really?" Makoto mused for a moment before his smile, somehow not quite so irritating anymore, blossomed on his face. "I suppose there is a difference."

"A difference of what?"

"Between the other servants and I," Makoto slipped a hand behind Haruka's head and bent it forward to that he could wash the nape of his neck. "Because I am Master Haruka's personal slave, you are the one I am most attentive to. So I am able to read your expressions easily."

Haruka, for some reason, started to feel sulky again. "Because my parents put you up to it, right," he muttered.

"That is incorrect," Makoto said firmly, again surprising his master. "I am the one who requested to become your slave, Master Haruka."

"What?" this was the first time Haruka had heard of such a thing. "Why...?"

"..." Makoto remained silent for a pensive moment. "'Why' indeed," he murmured. His grip on the back of Haruka's head tightened momentarily. Haruka was very suddenly aware that Makoto was sitting far too close. Their faces were mere inches apart from each other.

Slowly, Makoto's hand moved from his hair to his cheek in a smooth motion. Unconsciously holding his breath, Haruka felt as if he was drowning in pools of forest green.

"Master Haruka," Makoto said in a tone much lower than his usual voice. "You are very important to me. I cannot tell you why or how but... please allow me to tell you this: Master Haruka is very special to me, more so than the Master and Mistress," he smiled and Haruka was struck by the realization that Makoto was, in fact, very attractive. "Master Haruka is my only Master, and I am proud to be your slave."

An odd tingly feeling followed by a burning hot sensation flared through Haruka's face and he watched as Makoto's serious expression morphed into one of astonishment.

"Your face is turning even redder," Makoto smiled, speaking in his normal light tone again. He took his hand away and reached for the towel. "Please get some rest. I'll go request food from the kitchens," he made to stand up but then Haruka grabbed on to his sleeve. "Master Haruka?"

... Stay here, blue eyes implored. Makoto's smile, now beautiful instead of irritating, made Haruka's chest feel tight.

"Very well," Makoto smiled. "Then I'll stay here until you fall asleep, Master Haruka."

Makoto tugged his sleeve out of Haruka's grip, much to the young master's disappointment, but he seated himself in his earlier chair by his bedside. Blue eyes communicated what he was too proud – or scared – to ask.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Makoto comforted, reaching out to stroke his hair. "Please, go to sleep."

The oceanic eyes eventually slid shut to the rhythm of Makoto's soft breathing. So deeply asleep Haruka was, that he did not feel Makoto's head leave his forehead, nor did he here the soft click of the door as he left the room. However, as though as a breeze had crossed the room, he pulled his blankets tighter towards himself, as if desperate not to lose something close at hand.

.

.

.

When Haruka opened his eyes the next morning, both his fever and Makoto were gone.

He abruptly sat up and immediately regretted it as a bout of dizziness took hold. His stomach growled loudly – he hadn't eaten anything for a full day.

I should have guessed that he wouldn't be here, Haruka sulked. All the servants are the same in the end... they only do things out of duty. Even making empty promises just to get me out of their hair –

His train of melodramatic thought was abruptly stopped as the door swung open and Makoto stood there with a tray laden with breakfast. "Oh no! You're awake?" Makoto said, a crease between his eyebrows. "I am terribly sorry, Master Haruka. I only went out to get your breakfast..."

"What are you sorry for?" Haruka asked grumpily, secretly relieved.

"For not being here when you woke up. Isn't that what you are angry about right now?"

Haruka visibly stiffened and turned his head away quickly. How was Makoto able to do that? His body posture was too easy to read, it seemed, because he heard Makoto chuckle.

"Like I have said before," Makoto said softly, "I only look at Master Haruka."

Again the warm feeling seemed to echo within him, and Haruka could feel his face once more turning scarlet.

"Ah, your face is turning red again! Is your fever not completely gone?"

"... S-Shut up. Idiot."

In this world, honorfics are only allowed to be used by those of noble standing, like Haruka and his parents. Servants and slaves are strictly banned from such usage. Nobles are allowed to use honorfics towards servants and slaves, but it isn't often used. The honorfics are often used between nobles as a sign of respect or as a sign of closeness. Calling the first name flat out without honorfics is also allowed, though only between particularly close friends or relatives.

Slaves are usually meant to wear a single distinguishing triangle shaped earring on the right to tell them apart from other servants. The material may vary depending on both the context of their position and the standing of their masters. Business-owning officials like the Nanase family would have their slaves wear silver earrings. Top of the ladder (prime ministers) could have gold. Rare jewel earrings often go to female slaves who are used as sexual pleasure or at most acknowledged as a concubine. Below the Nanase family's standing, other slave owners may use cheaper materials like copper.