.tunnel vision...
Sometimes, Oishi wonders if Tezuka is really as stoic as he makes himself appear to be, or if it is just an act to keep unwanted complications away. He thinks about the girls who follow the other boy around, whispering and giggling and making him lunches. If it were Fuji they were doting upon, they would've been a bit less disappointed, for Fuji would've offered each of them a smile or a nod or a word of thanks or any form of acknowledgement that would've possibly, undoubtedly made their day. But Tezuka was Tezuka and it's just too bad for he was the one who simply walked away, politely declining their well-meant gifts, unknowingly breaking a heart or two… Not that he particularly noticed.
Oishi thinks he knows why.
He watches them – from the shadows, from the dark; watches each serve, each volley, each return, each shot. And then he watches Tezuka walk over to where Ryoma had dropped to his knees, watches Ryoma look up, watches their eyes meet... And there's something about the way they look into each other's eyes that tells Oishi that there's more being said than the words that are spoken.
And he just stands there, watching them watch each other, all the while feeling like an intruder, but he could not make himself look away. Not that it matters. For Tezuka has eyes only for Ryoma and Oishi thinks that it was about time Ryoma started looking back.
end.