On land, Junko is a hermit crab without her shell. She keeps her head bowed in perpetual submission, focusing furiously on her feet like a child who believes no one can see her so long as she cannot see them. Even a casual greeting causes her to retreat reflexively into herself, arms clutched to her chest as she backs unconsciously into the nearest wall. If she speaks, it is in quiet stammers, and only to acquiesce.

But in the pool, Junko has found her armor. That her competition swimsuit covers significantly less than her regular clothes doesn't matter. Its tight fit evokes the same security as a snug-fitting shell: when wearing it, Junko is an entirely different person.

She strides confidently across the tiled pool, unashamed of either her exposed skin or the figure outlined beneath her skintight spandex. Some of her teammates redden at being seen in their swimsuits, splashing hurriedly into the comparative privacy of the pool; not so Junko, who welcomes all eyes and draws them as if magnetized, meeting each eager stare with a smug, self-assured smile. All that remains of her terrestrial personality is a propensity for silence — but when she does speak in the suit, it's with a strength absent on land.

In the water, her performance more than lives up to her poolside confidence. Able to keep pace even with aquatic species, the bipolar second-year is a key member of the team: vice-captain despite her alter mousiness, and indisputed heir once the captain's position frees up. If only she could wear that swimsuit all the time...