Semifinals

Dayo had always told people he didn't feel pressure. He said it with confidence, and most times he even believed it himself. But the semifinals were different. The air around the arena felt heavier than any previous round. Everything around him—swimmers stretching, coaches whispering strategy, fans screaming from the stands—reminded him that this part of the competition was the point where dreams died or moved forward.

It was loud, tense, and charged in a way he had never experienced.

He looked around and realized that nearly every athlete standing around him had a desperate look in their eyes. Some were visibly excited, but beneath that excitement was fear. For many of them, this was their only shot at the Olympics. Once the previously banned swimmers returned next season, a lot of these people would never have this chance again. For them, this semifinal was a last window to rewrite their future.

For Dayo, the pressure felt different. It wasn't about desperation. It was about expectation. Everyone expected him to qualify. Everyone expected him to dominate. Everyone assumed that the young musician-turned-swimmer had everything under control.

He didn't.

Not today.

Coach Richard walked toward him slowly, watching his expression with narrowed eyes. "Talk to me," the coach said, hands behind his back. "What's going on in your mind?"

Dayo breathed out and forced a small smile. "Nothing serious. I'm okay. Just a little tired."

"Don't lie," Richard said calmly. "You're pressured."

Dayo sighed. "Yeah… kind of. It's semifinals. And finals are right after. Everything feels like it's moving too fast."

Richard nodded. "That's normal. But don't drown yourself in your thoughts. Take a breath. Be the water. You flow, you move, you don't fight against anything. Just be the water."

Dayo inhaled deeply. "Be the water… got it."

The call for the 50m semifinal came almost immediately after. Dayo stepped forward, loosened his arms, and took his position. This was familiar territory. He didn't overthink it. When the whistle blew, he shot forward like a bullet. Straight. Efficient. No wasted movement. By the time his hands touched the wall, he already knew he had taken first place.

Fifty meters was his territory.

There was a 30-minute break before the 100m.

Dayo tried to relax during the break, but the tension in the arena kept pulling him back to reality. Some of the swimmers were pacing nonstop. Some were praying. Some were staring blankly into space.

He wiped sweat from his forehead and stretched slightly.

When the 100m call came, he moved to the block again. He wasn't nervous this time—just focused. When the gun went off, he dived in smoothly and kept a strong pace. He didn't rush. He didn't panic. He simply swam with control. By the end of the second lap, he touched the wall first again.

He got out of the water, breathing steadily.

And that was when Richard rushed toward him.

"Dayo! You need to hurry!"

"What happened?"

"It's time for the 200m. They're already at the starting line. You're the only one missing."

Dayo blinked. "Already? I thought we still had time—"

"No. They switched the order. You have minutes. Maybe less."

Dayo didn't panic. But his chest tightened. He could still feel the heaviness in his lungs from the 100m. His arms were slightly stiff. His body hadn't recovered fully.

But there was no time.

He grabbed his cap properly, inhaled quickly to steady himself, and followed Richard fast. The coach kept talking as they jogged toward the pool.

"Don't rush your breathing. Focus on being calm. You can do it."

"I know. I know. I'm okay," Dayo said, though he wasn't sure.

They reached the blocks, and every other swimmer was already prepared. Some looked irritated, others confused, a few annoyed that he was late. Dayo didn't look at them. He just tried to catch his breath.

A few made remarks that werr rudd.

"What does he feel like superman or what ."

"Hehe who told he to focus on three events serves him right."

"He is a show off and with little rest he wouldn't qualify."

"Yewh at least one competitor is out of thr way."

Richard went to meet the perisn in charge and after a while.

Five minutes. That was the grace they gave him.

He bent down, hands on his knees, and took deep breaths. His heart was racing too fast. His mind was scattered. Everything was happening too quickly.

He stood up, rolled his shoulders, and stepped toward the block.

Before climbing up, his coach tapped his arm softly. "Remember what I said. Be the water."

Dayo nodded, closed his eyes for one second, and whispered it to himself.

"Be the water… be the water… be the water."

The announcer's voice cut in sharply.

"Take your mark!"

Dayo exhaled fully.

The gun fired.

He dived in.

The water felt different. He felt slow at first. He didn't even need to look sideways to know he had fallen slightly behind. His body was still fatigued from the 100m. His lungs burned earlier than usual. But he refused to give in. He kicked harder. Pulled harder. Every part of him screamed to slow down, but he didn't.

"Be the water."

He muttered it in his mind again.

By the second lap, he was still not in the lead, but he was close enough. He kept pushing. His core tightened, his chest ached, but the thought of failing at this stage was not acceptable. Not for him. Not after everything.

The final stretch came fast.

He pushed like his life depended on it. No hesitation. No breaks. No fear.

His fingers slammed into the wall.

He lifted his head immediately, breathing like someone who had sprinted through hell.

Coach Richard grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide. "You did it!"

Dayo blinked. "I qualified?"

Richard nodded. "You passed two of them. You're in. Not first, not second—but you're in."

Dayo let out a long breath and leaned back, closing his eyes. Relief washed over him so deeply he almost smiled. He wasn't the top seed this time. But he was in the finals.

And that was all he needed.

He stepped out of the water and took a moment to gather himself. The pressure was still there, but at least he wasn't drowning in it anymore.

When he finally got a moment alone, he took his phone and called Rex.

Rex picked up instantly. "Bro! I just watched you! I was even about to call you! You killed that 200m!"

Dayo smiled tiredly. "Almost died inside the water, but thanks."

Rex laughed. "Guy, you're crazy. Anyway, I'm around. I'm coming to your side. I dey come now-now."

"Alright. Pull up."

Ten minutes later, Rex joined him. They greeted each other like old friends, which they were. After the chaos with Lois, after the company nearly fell apart, after some artists rejected the new contract—Rex was one of the few who stayed. He trusted Dayo from day one.

They left the arena together and found a nearby restaurant to sit and eat. Nothing fancy. Just simple food to calm the nerves.

While they were eating, fans recognized them.

"Oh my God, it's Dayo!"

"That's Rex!"

"Rex! Please can we take pictures?"

"Dayo, please sign this for my daughter!"

Dayo smiled and waved them over. Rex laughed and stood up to greet them like someone used to attention. They took pictures, signed autographs, and chatted for a few minutes. The fans were excited to see the two together—one a rising Olympic swimmer, the other a musician about to perform on one of the world's biggest stages.

After everything settled, they went back to their food and talked about the future, the finals, Rex's upcoming performance, and normal life things that kept Dayo grounded.

Eventually, they parted ways and returned to their hotels.

Dayo collapsed onto his bed the moment he reached his room. His body was exhausted, his mind drained, but deep down, he felt something he hadn't felt all day:

Hope.

The semifinals were behind him.

The finals were next.

And the Olympics were waiting.

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