Training camp in the woods is brutal, but the upside is that certainly isn't raining. Ryuzaki has just sent the boys on their morning run when you glance outside and see the van pulling up. Your jaw drops when you see the Hyotei team get off.
Clearly, you're not the only one shocked. You hear exclamations from outside and realize that the regulars have started trickling back from their run. Ryuzaki-sensei is the only one who looks very satisified with herself.
"I invited them," she crosses her arms and smiles. "I thought you guys could use some scrimmage matches before your Rikkaidai games."
The Hyotei players, who have clearly come from Atobe's fancy villa nearby, are not impressed by the lodgings. Or the frogs. However, you see Atobe glance back and he makes eye contact with you. He nods and flips his hair and you laugh but you wave back.
The matches are set to have two courts going simultaneously. It makes it harder for you to watch both, so you and Inui decide to split up to take notes. It takes almost the entire day to make it through the teams, but you and Fuji are standing behind the tennis cages, watching the Echizen-Atobe match together.
You know the last time you saw Atobe go all out, it was against Tezuka, who had years of practice and experience and met him swing for swing. Echizen, for all the talent he was, though, was still too young. You see him drop his racket, not dissimilar to what Tezuka had done, to return Atobe's signature smash, but you know he's still too weak.
You and Atobe likely see the flash at the same time. The smash hits Echizen's racket but the ball flies wildly out of bounds. What the two of you are focused on, though, is the strain that the hit places on Echizen's wrist.
It wouldn't matter if he would be able to hit the tennis ball if he didn't have the strength to return it.
You sigh. Echizen was good – possibly even one of the best players you had encountered – but he still had so much training for him to get there. Would this be enough before Rikkaidai brought their full force down on your team next weekend?
"Penny for the thoughts?" you hear Fuji next to you.
"It's his wrist," you whisper back. "He's not strong enough to return that smash like Tezuka yet. Instead, he's just overtwisting his wrist and hitting it out all the time."
Just as the words leave your mouth, Echizen returns a smash and it barely clears the line.
"Game, Echizen. 2-5," the umpire announces.
"Saaa," Fuji smiles. "I think he's picking it up quite well," he chuckles.
You turn back to the game to watch, but you still see Echizen's wrist undertwisting, especially with Atobe's more powerful shots. You can tell that Atobe isn't even going full out – he's simply drawing out the match similar to what he had done to Tezuka, just to see how far he could push Echizen's wrist. Nonetheless, Echizen puts up a decent fight and now that he was returning smashes, was able to catch up a few more games.
"Game, Atobe. 6-5."
Atobe smirks from his service line. "Well, there's no point in continuing. You can't win anyways," he approaches the net. "I must admit, I'm a little disappointed that I overestimated you, Echizen. You're certainly not in any shape to beat Rikkaidai like this."
You grimace. He wasn't … wrong, but he certainly wasn't making any new friends with how he had worded that one.
Just as Atobe is about to leave the court, Echizen speaks up. "I'm okay stopping if you admit you've lost," he smirks and tips his hat at Atobe.
You and Oishi probably sigh at the same time. He was little cocky brat. Fuji grins even wider.
Atobe clearly also finds this amusing, because he steps back to his service line as Echizen lines up to receive. You watch Atobe serve and just as your eyes flash to Echizen, you notice something.
His wrist is fine. His form is perfect. There isn't a single thing wrong as he easily slices the ball back across the net. The return is so powerful that you even see Atobe's wrist flinch on the return.
Your jaw drops. You think Atobe probably notices it the same time you do as his eyes widen. Echizen easily takes the next four rallies to close the game at 6-6. Atobe is shocked, and you are frankly a little too. He glances up and makes eye contact with you.
You glance at Echizen, who is casually walking back to his tennis bag as if this was just another day at practice. Your lips curl up and you give Atobe a casual shrug before joining your team's freshman.
"Not bad," you dunk his hat over his eyes.
He scowls and bats at your hand.
The games end in the late afternoon and everyone agrees to take a beat to relax. The freshmen are inside preparing dinner and everyone else has scattered.
You are just chatting with Fuji and Oshitari when Echizen approaches.
"I want a match," he points his racket at you.
You pause. "O-kay?" you shoot him a quizzical look. Fuji and Oshitari both look amused.
Echizen smirks. "With your insight," he clarifies.
You narrow your eyes. "I don't play with it on anymore," you tell him slowly. "My injury …"
Echizen tilts his head and gives you that cocky smirk. "He won't let you hurt your ankle, right, Atobe-senpai?"
You glance to the side and see Atobe carefully watching the two of you. You're not sure if this is a good idea – between the recently rocky relationship you've had with Atobe and playing with your insight on for the first time in a year, there were too many variables at play. You hesitate.
"Too scared?" Echizen's smirk turns a little dangerous.
You glare at him. You don't like being goaded, but you do feel like some of this is probably because of how often you give him shit – and how often you dunk his hat. Nonetheless, you pause.
"Get on the court, Michi," you hear Atobe behind you and whip around.
"Atobe –" you start.
"Get on the court. You know you want to," he smirks at you.
You narrow your eyes. He probably wants to get back at this sucker from his earlier match. Nonetheless, he's not wrong. And Atobe could clearly see how much to push both Tezuka's shoulder and Echizen's wrist. What was to say he couldn't help you protect your ankle?
Atobe tilts his head towards the courts. "Do you trust me?" he smirks.
You don't appreciate being put between these two large egos, but you, in fact, do trust Atobe. You give him one last glare before you follow Echizen to the courts. Your commotion has interested a few others as players from both teams gather around the courts.
"Fine," you take a deep breath and stand behind the service line. You feel your eyes focus and the rest of the courts narrows until your insight maps out all areas for you to target. You focus on a single spot and release the ball.
It is a service ace.
You can tell you've surprised Echizen a little bit and you feel your lips curl up. Good. He needed a little humbling.
"Too fast?" you taunt.
Echizen grins. "Not even close."
You serve again this time but he's there in time. He returns the shot but you can already see where the ball is moving even before he hits it. You feel like you're stepping back into your tennis as each shot hits the racket just right. You don't feel your usual rush with your insight – you're not here to play hyperoffensively because you have no need to end the game quickly. It ends when Atobe says so.
Echizen returns another slice across the court and it just skids by you. "Game, Echizen, 3 games all," Oishi calls out from the side.
You take a step towards the receiver box and suddenly, with all your senses heightened, you feel your ankle. It doesn't hurt, but you can tell you're straining it. You pause.
"No, that will be match," you hear Atobe call out.
You purse your lips – of course he saw it too. You're definitely disproportionately out of breath for how long you've played, but you know you're deconditioned. Playing with the insight on made it difficult for you to focus on anything else than simply just seeing and hitting, but now that you're not hyperfocused on your offensive plays, you feel like your insight has expanded for you to see more – including your own ankle.
"Tch," Echizen adjusts his hat. You know he hates having his game interrupted, but he respected your rules.
You tentatively check your ankle again. It feels fine but you can tell the rest of your muscles are going to be incredibly sore. You haven't gone all out in over a year. You look back up to see both teams have fully gathered around to watch. You can't hear their commentary specifically, but Fuji's eyes are open and he is watching carefully, which you assume is a compliment if you've ever seen one.
You find Atobe after the match. It's not hard – he's brought his own maids and butlers and is currently sitting in the shade of an umbrella you don't care to ask where he found. As you approach, Atobe tips his sunglasses down a little in acknowledgement.
"Thank you," you tell him.
"You didn't need me," he pushes his sunglasses back up.
You laugh lightly. "I didn't," you acknowledge. "But I didn't know that," you hold out a cold sports drink to him.
"Arn?" he glances back at you with a raised eyebrow, his fancy sparkling water in hand. "What's that?"
You laugh. "A peace offering, you idiot," you put it on his small side table. "You gave me the confidence to play tennis again – my tennis. So, thank you. Seriously."
He glances at the drink again, still unimpressed. "That's what you give me in return?"
You feel like you'd normally be annoyed by his haughty attitude but you're in such a good mood that you decide to let it go. "Okay, fine," you cross your arms. "What does one get the almighty Atobe-sama as a thank you present?"
He smirks and you can tell you've walked right into his plan. "A third date."
To your surprise, you feel your heart skip a beat with how serious he looks. Somehow, this didn't feel like his previous requests – one to see your insight and the next to see your tennis. This one was different.
"Alright," you agree softly and his smile turns smug. "But –" he looks back up at you, "only because you've been nice to my friends," you tilt your chin back to the cabin the Seigaku regulars currently are in.
"I don't know what you mean," he tells you firmly, as if he hadn't literally agreed to bring his team to his private villa so they could come by during the day to help with Seigaku tennis training.
You laugh and nudge the sports drink. "Don't be an asshole, Atobe. Take the win and leave."
Tezuka hears his phone go off and glances at the clock. Right on time, as expected.
He picks up. "Hello, Atobe," he greets.
"Tezuka," the man on the other end responds. "My match with Echizen went to a tie, 6-6."
"I see," Tezuka takes a second to process the information.
"But I don't know what would have happened if we had gone to a tiebreak," Atobe continues.
"Hmm," Tezuka responds. It had been a second since he'd seen Echizen play, and given what he knew about the freshman's growth curve, it might as well have been years. "I'm sorry to ask so much of you, Atobe," he finishes.
"Tch, you two are the same," Atobe mutters, and Tezuka honestly isn't even sure he heard him correctly. "Hurry up and get your shoulder fixed so we can have another game. I will crush you for real this time."
Tezuka purses his lips. "I look forward to it," he responds wryly.
"Also, about Michi," Tezuka's eyes widen. "She played your freshman prodigy today," Atobe drawls. "With her insight on. You should have seen her."
Tezuka feels something in his chest ache. He had missed so much – his team's growth, his own training, your tennis. He did keep in touch with Oishi and Fuji, but the two of you hadn't been regularly texting prior to him leaving, and it hadn't felt natural to reach back out now that the two of you had gotten much busier. As a result, it had been weeks since he had last heard from you.
"I've decided," Atobe continues on. "Michi is intriguing – I'm done sitting on the sidelines of your story. I'm going to win her over instead."
"Michi can make her own choices, Atobe," Tezuka feels himself respond rather sternly.
Atobe laughs. "Oh Tezuka, you better hurry back if you still want a chance."
Tezuka doesn't get a chance to respond before Atobe hangs up. He stares at the phone for another second before sighing and placing it back on his dresser.
He thinks back to your last conversation in the locker room, when you had handed him your resignation letter. He hadn't been expecting that – or your confession – and honestly he had found himself at a loss for how to respond. You had clearly feelings for the Seigaku tennis captain – the man who led his team to qualify for Nationals with an undefeated record in Prefecturals. Who was he now that he could no longer play tennis?
That's absurd, he could just imagine you saying, and it brings a small smile to his lips when he can see the angry expression on your face.
Nonetheless, he had hesitated in responding to your feelings. Instead, he had done the only thing he was sure of. He kept his promise to you – to lead Seigaku to be National Champions. Had that been the right decision? Tezuka frowns. He had felt much more confident in it before this phone call with Atobe. Nonetheless, he had meant what he said – you could make your own choices. Until then, he would focus on his tennis and make sure that he did everything he could to come back in time to keep his first promise to you.