Of all places Oishi expected to find Tezuka, the girl's tennis courts are not one of them. Tezuka is standing there watching a practice match and Oishi joins him silently. He glances on the court and sees you, who he knows because you are in his class, playing one of the third years. You are dominating the match.
"She's hurt," Tezuka tells him quietly, and Oishi furrows his brows at him.
Oishi tries to take a good look but he cannot really tell.
"Her ankle," Tezuka mutters.
Oishi remembers you had injured your ankle last year, sometime during your U-17 debut as a freshman. It had taken you out of the rest of the U-17 tournament, but you had supposedly started this season fresh and well-healed. Granted, these were all rumors and you hadn't played a lot of games for the Seigaku in the S1 position yet, but you seemed in good shape on the courts currently.
You clean up the game quickly and glance up at the fence. You spot Tezuka and Oishi, the latter who gives you a polite wave, and you nod at them in greeting before continuing practice with your team.
"Hopefully it doesn't become a problem in Regionals," Oishi responds quietly, and the two of them continue their walk to practice.
You don't know Oishi or Tezuka that well, other than the fact they've both been in your class since freshman year. You know they're both good at tennis – Tezuka was one of the few second-year regulars on the men's tennis team as well – but that's about the extent of interactions you've had with them.
That's why you're surprised when, after practice one day, you end up crossing paths with Tezuka. He stops when he sees you, and you're so startled that you even glance behind you to make sure he's not looking at someone else.
The two of you stare at each other for a second.
"Your ankle," he glances at it. "Is it okay?"
You freeze. You knew your ankle was news last year, but you had thought you were doing okay hiding your injury through this season. "It's fine," you tell him sharply, a little caught off-guard.
He pauses and looks like he's about to say something, but ends up nodding slightly instead. You decide this is not a conversation you want to have – let alone with a stranger – so you simply barrel ahead to your clubhouse.
Your ankle does end up becoming a problem. It happens around the quarterfinals with Rokkaku – the Seigaku team has been pushed to S1 multiple times in both the Prefecturals and Regionals already, but this game is especially tough. You know you've been hiding your ankle injury for most of the season decently well, but a combination of the rain and slippery tennis courts causes you to stumble early in the match.
You recover okay from it, but you feel your ankle begin to flare up in pain. Nonetheless, you return to the service line and slam a service ace back. The Seigaku team cheers as you try to quickly swing the momentum of the match back to your side.
Your ankle really starts to give way sometime around the fourth or fifth game. The opponent sends a sharp slice across the court and you almost stumble on your ankle again in an attempt to reach it. You think that's what gives it away, because you spend a good portion of your fifth game chasing cross-court shots that really push your ankle. By the time you've slowly taken the fifth game from her, you can barely focus on the other side of the court through the pain.
You take a deep breath and return to the receiving position. Your eyes focus on the other side of the court and you see in slow motion the serve coming at you. Your vision focuses on the weak spots you see so clearly marked on the other side and you aim for the furthest one. As your opponent runs to the left side of the court, you run closer to the net and you catch her wince as she tries to return the shot. You feel your eyes sharpen – you can see exactly how and where you need to hit these next few shots to the end the game early.
You're almost at the net when you feel your ankle give. You take a rough tumble forward and the opponent's shot slides past you to thunk against the backboard. You remember the feeling of the rain on your back and your vision swarming with tears because suddenly, all you can see is red hot pain from your right ankle.
Your team stands up immediately and your captain and vice-captain rush onto the courts. You want to tell them to back off, but you genuinely cannot move your right ankle whatsoever. Your captain takes one look at you and tsks, but she gently helps you up and lets you lean on her shoulder.
"We need to take the medical forfeit," she murmurs to her vice-captain.
"No!" your eyes widen. "I can do this. I can win this."
She gives you a sharp look. "You can't stand, Michi. We should have pulled you sooner."
You feel all your frustration and anger rise to the surface. This was supposed to be your season. You needed to make Nationals again to secure a spot back on the U-17 circuit, and if your team lost this game, it would end the season.
"Please," you whisper softly to her.
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Michi. It's my final decision."
The doctor tells you exactly what you'd expect – that you would need urgent surgery for your ankle and at least six weeks of PT. The surgery happens the Monday following and you get discharged shortly after for recovery at home.
Like the ever-diligent class representative, Oishi shows up to your house that day to bring you homework and notes. The tennis team also visits you briefly through the week. You end up having to take most of the week off and return to classes the following Monday.
You enter the classroom with your crutches and hobble over to your desk. You hate the crutches, the cast, the looks you get. Honestly, you hate pretty much everything about it. You are already in a terrible mood, so it doesn't help when you accidentally clip the edge of a table and your bag drops.
You groan, but before you can bend down to get it, you see Tezuka reach down instead. He stands back up with it and glances at your crutches. You remember your last conversation with him, when he had called you out for playing this season on a bad ankle.
"I'm fine," you tell him sharply, and snatch the bag from him.
It probably causes some whispers for how rude you seem to him. You're too angry to care.
He lets out a slow breath but doesn't say anything as he goes to his own desk.