You're outside, pacing as you look up at the clouds. The first tell tale sign that something is wrong: you never pace. Oshitari eyes you, eyebrows crinkled in worry.

"So, are you going to the wedding?" Oshitari has never been one for tact. You have never hated him more for it than at this moment.

You don't answer because you don't know. You don't know anything anymore. The entire situation frustrates you until you can barely stand it. And suddenly, you can't. You just can't deal with it anymore.

You lift your hand in farewell and can't get out of the room fast enough. You are aware that Oshitari is following you.

You go back inside, grab your racket and a spare, and head off to the courts. If Oshitari insists on being in your presence, he might as well be useful. Besides, he's good enough to give you a decent workout.

You haven't played in so long; the evidence is the burn your legs feel, the strain of muscle in your forearms. Your body is punishing you for forsaking tennis. The pain reminds you that you're alive, of the sport you once played with grace and brilliance. You've missed this, missed tennis.

Oshitari didn't turn pro either, and he's paying for it too. You grin at each other over the net, remembering nationals and Hyoutei and school in general. You laugh and it takes years off your face. You are young, only twenty five, but you feel seventeen again.

You feel as tennis heals you and you're sorry that you didn't turn pro. You imagine feeling this high for a living and you wonder if it's not too late to give up the business.

But it has been too long, and you really aren't seventeen anymore so it is only to be expected when you drop your racket. Your body collapses, having reached your limit

You can see through the net that Oshitari is on the ground as well. You smirk at each other, breathless and triumphant. The smirk on your face feels familiar and it's good to at least have a semblance of your former self.

You lie on the ground, recovering and welcoming the ache and satisfaction only tennis can bring.

You're too exhausted to think, to remember, to feel anything. But then you do remember what drove you take up the racket and again the feeling of anguish overtakes you. Tennis was your game, the game you both loved but only one of you got the grand dream. And seeing as how you're the one left with nothing but memories, you have to face the fact that it's not you.

But you still have this. Still have tennis. You can still shine, your fire can burn and Tezuka doesn't have to be across from you for it to happen. You're glad to know that you can play without him. You can't live without him, but you can play tennis. Tennis is yours. It's all you've got left. But it was always enough before he came along. You breathe deeply through your nose. You repeat to yourself, you can do this. Oshitari has somehow gotten off the ground and retrieved towels and water bottles. He offers you one of each.

You can do this.

You ignore the towel and accept the water bottle.

You can do this.

You uncap the bottle and as the cold water slides down your throat, you realize for the first time that you don't have to do it alone.