It was not without reluctance that I selected the swimming course this semester. The university's registration system had been particularly unkind this year, leaving me with precious few electives to choose from. As someone who prefers the serenity of libraries and lecture halls over the clamorous nature of sports facilities, the idea of baring my arms in a public pool was... disquieting, at best.

Still, I arrived on time.

The echo of my footsteps against the wet tile rang out with each step. Chlorine hung heavily in the air, sharp and unforgiving, reminding me that this environment was as alien as any battlefield. My towel, meticulously folded, rested beneath my arm, and my dark swim shorts clung uncomfortably to my legs with each motion. I had read the course outline twice. I knew what to expect.