Richard laughed at that — a tired, honest laugh. "That's the spirit."
Later that afternoon, the first round of the preliminary heats began. Swimmers gathered near the pool, stretching and adjusting their caps. The sound of whistles and splashes echoed across the vast hall.
Dayo stood by the edge of the pool, rolling his shoulders. Richard came up behind him. "Remember what I said," the coach murmured. "Don't show them your full strength yet. Just do enough to qualify."
Dayo nodded. "Got it."
The referee raised his whistle. "On your marks!"
Dayo crouched, muscles tightening.
"Set…"
The whistle blew. He dove forward, slicing into the water like a blade.
His movements were smooth and precise. Each stroke carried power but restraint — just enough to keep him ahead without revealing the full extent of what he could do.
Although he still looked a bit amateurish from the way he swam — after all, it had not even been two weeks since he started learning swimming professionally.
