The remainder of the tournament is a wild blur. You and An are hoarse from cheering and you watch both teams enter the court at the end. An quickly grabs your hand and the two of you sneak down to the back entrance to congratulate them.
You find the Seigaku team first. Oishi spots you and waves the two of you over, where Fuji and Echizen have already rejoined the group. You give Fuji a quick hug and congratulate him on his game.
You're caught up in the chatter when a small breeze comes through, and you shiver. Oishi looks over at you and frowns.
"Are you cold?" he asks.
"A little," you admit sheepishly.
He tsks at you and reaches for his bag. "You really should have brought a jacket," he mutters and you giggle at little as he fusses. He manages to produce his Seigaku jacket from his tennis bag and hands it to you.
"Thanks, Mother Hen," you smile and shrug it on. "What would I do without you?"
Oishi just sighs but gives you a reluctant smile.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the remaining teams also gather around their members. You glance over at the Hyotei team and see Atobe and Oshitari fully surrounded by both the Hyotei regulars and their very large fan clubs. Atobe glances over and the two of you make eye contact. His eyes soften for a second and you give him a small, shy wave. You notice he's still holding your jacket.
His eyes sweep over you and you notice they land on the Seigaku jacket you're wearing. His eyes narrow and you see his demeanor shift. He turns around coldly and marches off. You glance down in confusion and realize that, while you can see Oishi's name clearly embroidered on the side, Atobe was likely too far away. If anything, he would have assumed you were wearing Tezuka's jacket.
"Wait –" you take a step towards Atobe's leaving form to try to clear up the confusion.
You feel someone grab your arm and turn to see Fuji. He shakes his head.
"I need to go," you tell him quickly.
"Not now," Fuji tilts his head slightly and you glance behind him to see all the reporters and sponsors still mingling around.
You also make eye contact with Tezuka. He sees the look of panic in your eyes and steps towards you.
"Let her go, Fuji," Tezuka tells him quietly.
Fuji glances at Tezuka but does let your arm go. You glance at them both and can tell they're having a silent conversation without you.
Tezuka turns back to you. "Go," he tells you.
You feel the lump come back into your throat. "I'm sorry," you give him a quick bow. You're not really sure what you're apologizing for right now. You quickly take off the Seigaku jacket and shove it at Fuji. "I need to go," you mutter and dash off.
Even though you're only a few minutes behind, you thoroughly lose sight of Atobe in the halls. After a few minutes of searching, you do manage to find Oshitari, flocked by the Hyotei team. He spots you and raises an eyebrow.
"I'm looking for Keigo," you tell him and ignore the confused stares of the remainder of the Hyotei regulars.
"Atobe left," Oshitari responds shortly.
You purse your lips. "I need to speak to him."
Oshitari shrugs coldly. "You have his number, Michi. Call him or something."
You groan. "You are all infuriating," you mutter. "Can you at least tell him I borrowed Oishi's jacket for one hot minute before he jumped all over his own conclusions?"
Oshitari blinks once, then twice. He grimaces. "You're going to need to pass that message along yourself. He's not one to listen to me when he's angry."
You groan again and bid him a short goodbye. You run out of the stadium and dial Atobe's number on your cell. It goes straight to voicemail. You try again and the same thing happens.
"Call me," you text him angrily. "Talk to me and stop jumping to your own conclusions."
You don't get a response and call him again. It goes to voicemail. You groan and kick the ground, frustrated, before heading home.
Atobe continues to ignore all your calls and texts all weekend. You and the Seigaku team visit Ryuzaki-sensei in the hospital again, where she confirms she's discharging in the next few days. Tezuka is also leaving that evening, so all of you head over to the airport to send him off.
"I'll be back in time for Nationals," he tells them.
After they all say their goodbyes, Tezuka turns to you. It feels oddly like the déjà vu from the last time he left, except this time, there is a distinct sadness in the air.
"Did you talk to him?" Tezuka asks quietly.
The rest of the team steps back and lingers to give you two privacy. You shake your head. "I couldn't find him," you bite your lip. "Tezuka, regarding our last conversation – I'm sorry," you bow. "I can't accept your feelings right now."
"I know," Tezuka responds softly. "I saw how you two looked at each other yesterday. I understand."
You look back at him, your eyes starting to tear up. "I'm really sorry," you apologize again, a little hoarse.
He shakes his head. "I'm happy for you."
You try to give him a small smile. "I'll still be around when you come back. You promised me a national championship."
The edges of his lips curl up and he nods. "I did."
He gives you one final nod before turning back to his gate.
Monday rolls around and Atobe is still not responding to your texts or calls. Frustrated, you decide the only way to reason with him is face-to-face, so you head over to Hyotei as soon as classes end. As you arrive on campus, you realize how out of place your Seigaku uniform is on campus. You see a few people pointing and whispering as you walk around, trying to find the tennis courts.
You purse your lips and feel a little self-conscious for how much attention you're drawing. Then, the residual frustration and anger surfaces and reminds you why you are here. If the Hyotei regulars could interrupt Seigaku practice multiple times, what was stopping you?
Just as you're about to round another corner, you are approached by two female students. They block your path and you startle, stepping back.
"Who are you?" the first one asks, a little aggressively.
You narrow your eyes. "I could ask you the same," you respond shortly. "I'm looking for Atobe Keigo."
The second one crosses her arms. "What business do you have with Atobe-sama?" she asks, once again stepping in front of you as you try to dodge them.
"None of your business," you feel your annoyance rise. "Let me pass."
"Is that her?" you hear whispers from behind you and glance back.
Multiple students have started to gather around you, mostly female students.
"That's the girl he brought to the charity ball." "That's her jacket that Atobe-sama carried."
The whispers continue and one girl comes up to the two female students in front of you and whispers something in their ear. The first one narrows her eyes.
"Are you Michi Lita?" she asks.
You glare. "Like I said, none of your business. Let me through."
The third girl whispers again in the ear of the first one. The first girl crosses her arms. "Well, Atobe-sama said he doesn't want to see you."
You groan, your frustration with Atobe and these women bubbling over into anger. "He can tell me that to my face. I need to speak to him."
"Hmm," the second girl pretends to think for a moment. "We can get him for you. But first, we heard you play tennis. You'll have to beat us to if you want our help."
You roll your eyes. You don't know who either of these women are, but you're not in the mood. "Fine," you growl. "Get on the court, you two. Let's get this stupid game over with."
"Oh no," the second girl smirks. "Not just us," she turns around and you see a large group of women with tennis bags. "All of us."
"Um, Ryou-san, is that Michi-san?"
Shishido turns at the sound of Ootori's voice and glances at the women's tennis courts, where an abnormally large number of students have gathered around the fences. He squints at the two players on the court. He's only met you a few times, but it does look suspiciously like you.
He shoves his way into the crowd, Ootori closely behind him. "What's going on?" he asks a random person beside him.
"They're challenging that Seigaku girl to multiple tennis sets in a row," the female student whispers back. "She's on her third set right now."
"Why?" Shishido asks, thoroughly confused.
He looks on the court and can tell you're clearly exhausted, but you are holding your own games well. He's never seen you play tennis before, but he can tell you're skilled.
"Third set?" Ootori balks. "Why is she playing so many sets?"
"She told them she wanted to speak to Atobe-sama," the girl whispers. "They said she'd have to beat them all first."
"That's stupid," Shishido growls. "I'm getting Atobe."
He pushes his way back out of the crowd and starts to march towards the boy's tennis courts. Ootori follows him closely behind.
"We should hurry," he murmurs.
"I'm walking as fast as I can, Choutarou," Shishido bites back.
"No, I think she's injured," Ootori murmurs quietly back. "She had to retire from tennis due to an injury last year. Three sets in a row can't be good for her."
"Shit," Shishido mutters and breaks off into a run. "We should hurry."
"Hey!"
Atobe turns around and sees Shishido marching towards him. He raises an eyebrow. "Arn?"
"What the hell, man?" Shishido doesn't stop until he's right up in Atobe's face. "What's your deal with Michi?"
Atobe stills at the mention of your name. "I don't have anything to do with her," he responds cooly.
"Now, now, Atobe," Oshitari is standing beside him and smirks. "No need for the temper tantrum. At least hear Shishido out."
"You sent your rabid fan club after her?" Shishido ignores Oshitari's teasing and is clearly riled up, stepping around until Atobe is directly facing him again. "That's low, even for you."
Atobe's eyes narrow and he turns back to Shishido. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice even.
"She's getting challenged into consecutive tennis sets by your stupid fan club on the women's tennis team," Shishido growls. "Don't you have any respect for yourself? Why the hell would you send them to bully her?"
Atobe pauses as he tries to piece together this information. "Where is she?" he asks quietly.
"On their courts!" Shishido growls. To his surprise, Atobe flies past him. Even Oshitari looks a little alarmed at the information. Shishido rushes after them.
"What do you mean by consecutive sets?" Atobe grits out.
Shishido pushes past some other tennis players to keep up with Atobe. "She's on her third or fourth tennis set right now. She's winning, but they told her she had to beat them all to speak to you."
Atobe growls under his breath as the women's tennis courts come into sight. The crowd has gotten even larger since Shishido left, but they part quickly for Atobe, who makes a beeline for the cage.
You've been playing for so long that you're pretty sure you're running solely on a combination of adrenaline and stubbornness. You slam a smash back over the net and finish off your fourth set.
"Who else wants to get on the court?" you shout.
Another girl steps up to the line and you get ready for your service again. Your insight has been on for over an hour nonstop, and while all the weaknesses on the court flare up with the start of the match, your own also do as well. You can see your ankle clearly is getting strained. You're also probably somewhere way past your physical limits – you've only played full games since coming back to tennis, never multiple sets.
Nonetheless, you toss the ball up and slice it sharply across the court. With your insight on, you can tell where she's about to return the shot and head back up to the net. You don't like playing hyperoffensively, but it does decrease the strain on your body.
However, instead of returning the ball, she lets the service slide past her. She seems clearly distracted by something, but your insight has your vision narrowly focused on the tennis court itself. You take the second to catch your breath, but you keep your insight on.
"That's enough, Lita."
You hear Atobe's voice from next to you but jerk away, needing to continue the match.
"Lita," he grabs your racket and you flinch. "You're done. Turn it off."
As your racket leaves your hand, you feel your insight flicker off. Now that you're no longer hyperfocused on the court, your body's exhaustion is starting to catch up. You try to look up at Atobe, but the edges of your vision start to blacken. You squeeze your eyes shut but the lightheadedness doesn't improve.
You take a step back, intending to stabilize yourself on a bench or the tennis cage, but instead you stumble a few steps, your ankle pain flaring as you feel it for the first time. Atobe catches you and pulls you forward so you can lean on his chest. That's also the last thing you remember before you pass out.
