You do spend a lot of time around both Tezuka and Oishi, both from being classmates but also in your informal role with the tennis team. You know there are a good amount of rumors circulating – where you dating Tezuka? Oishi? The latter stammers his way through a denial any time anyone asks him. You and Tezuka spend most of your time ignoring the rumor mill.
One day, you get pulled away by a teacher after class to discuss high school recommendations. It starts – and ends – much later than you expect. By the time you finish, the sun is already setting. You grumble under your breath as you return to the classroom to grab your bag to leave.
Instead, however, you find Tezuka still there. He looks like he's reading a packet of information about something. He looks up when you enter.
"Hey," you greet, heading over to his desk. "You're here late."
He nods, glancing at the paper in front of him.
You glance down. It looks like an invitation to a tennis camp in Germany. He sees your eyes trail to the paper as well.
"Ryuzaki-sensei gave it to me last week," he tells you. "She said I should consider it."
"Oh," you blink and suddenly realize there is a very real chance Tezuka would be moving somewhere where you'd never see him again. It makes your heart twist a little funny. "It sounds like a great opportunity," you manage out. "You should."
He looks at you carefully. "Is that what you would have done?" he asks quietly.
Your throat dries up. "Yeah," you reply honestly. "I would probably have taken the offer and never looked back."
He glances down at the paper again and you turn away. There is a beat of silence.
"But that's not a decision I get to make anymore," you tell him softly. Your eyes are glued to your hand as your fingers tap a gently rhythm at the corner of his desk. "I didn't have a team like yours when I could still play, so I understand it's a difficult decision." You laugh softly. "They might even ask you to stay," you joke.
Tezuka doesn't laugh. You clear your throat and put on a tight smile. You tap his desk corner gently and leave to grab your bag.
"Sorry, that's not what you asked me," you tell him, trying to keep your voice light.
"Would you ask me to stay?" Tezuka asks, and you freeze.
You glance back at him and he is watching you carefully. Your heart lurches again at the thought of never seeing him again and you swallow the bitter taste in your mouth. He's still waiting patiently for your answer.
"I would," you respond quietly.
Embarrassed, you turn back around and quickly gather the rest of your things before heading out.
It is just another regular weekend at the street tennis courts for you. You do get there a little late, but you're surprised to see the usual crowd fully beaten and off to the side. You turn and see someone in a Hyotei uniform has their hand wrapped around An's wrist.
She doesn't look amused. "Let go of me!"
"You promised that if we beat everyone here, you'd go on a date with me," he smirks.
"Hey," you march up to the two Hyotei students. You smack his arm and stand between him and An. "She told you to let go."
"Oh?" the man turns his attention to you, amused. "Are you another challenger?"
"She doesn't play tennis," An snaps from behind you. "Leave her alone and get out of here."
The man's glances at you and his eyes narrow. "You don't play tennis?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "That can't be true, Seigaku Girl."
You freeze and the man smirks. Before he can say anything else, thankfully, Momoshiro and Kamio arrive, clearly having heard the commotion. They challenge the two Hyotei players to a match.
"You should get out of here," someone tells An.
"No," she shakes her head. "I'm responsible for this. I'm staying."
You don't think you have it in you to do the same, but An grabs your hand and you sigh. You do stay long enough to watch the larger Hyotei student – the quiet one – take one of Momoshiro's smashes and easily return it with twice the power. Your jaw drops. Luckily, Momoshiro reacts fast enough and is able to keep the ball from nailing him in his chest. You can't tell if it was sheer luck it landed on the Hyotei side of the court.
"Arn" the first Hyotei student looks at Momoshiro. "What was your name?"
Momoshiro introduces himself.
"Hmm," the man flips his hair. "Atobe Keigo. Hyotei third year." He glances at you expectantly.
You decide that's your cue to leave.
"Wait, Lita!" you hear An call after you and flinch. You turn around briefly to give her an apologetic glance before taking off again.
Two days later, you are leaving Seigaku when a large black limo pulls up next to you. You pause your walking and back up until you're at the innermost side of the sidewalk as the window rolls down.
You see Atobe in the backseat, smirking. "Seigaku Girl," he greets.
You glance around, tense, and he laughs.
"Relax, I'm not going to kidnap you."
You cross your arms. "This feels like the start of a kidnapping," you mutter. "What do you want?"
He smirks. "I was wondering why you looked familiar this weekend. It took me a while to find out who you are, Michi Lita."
You purse your lips. "I asked what you wanted from me."
"Oh, hmm, maybe one date," he smirks. "Especially since you interrupted my last one."
"Absolutely not," you tell him flatly. "And you were harassing my friend."
He shrugs. "Pity. I'm sure the tennis tabloids would be interested to know what you've been doing since your withdrawal from the U-17 this year," he drawls. "Do they know about your ankle?"
You freeze. You haven't told anyone outside of your captain and vice-captain about the true extent of your injury. Atobe smirks when he sees your expression.
"Perhaps I still have Fujiwara's number in my phone," he pulls out his cell and unlocks it.
You step closer to the car so you can reach for his phone. He laughs and pulls it further outside your reach. You glare at him. "Fine," you grit out. "One date."
He smirks. "Get in."
He ends up taking you to a fancy cafe on the second floor of a department store. Despite it being peak afternoon hours, you notice the café is oddly empty with the exception of the service staff. One of the waitresses approaches the two of you, greets Atobe by name, and seats you at a table near the window.
"Just the usual," Atobe tells her.
She glances at you.
"Um, a regular coffee," you tell her, and she nods and disappears.
You cross your arms and settle yourself in your seat across from Atobe. He is still smirking, but you can tell he's watching you carefully.
"Why did you call me here today?" you start.
He laughs. "Perhaps I wanted some secret intel on the Seigaku team?" he raises an eyebrow.
You bristle and stand up, about to shoot a snippy remark back when he shakes his head and chuckles. The tea he orders – and the coffee you ordered – comes almost immediately and he gestures at your cup.
"Sit down," he tells you. "I'm not interested in the girl's tennis team." You pause and realize he thinks you're helping with the women's team and not the men's. You don't bother to correct him. "I want to know why you quit tennis," he continues.
"How did you know about my ankle?" you ask him quietly.
Atobe chuckles. "I recognize your name. You were on the path to becoming a pro after your U-17 debut as a freshman before you dropped out."
You frown. "My ankle injury wasn't published," you tell him. You had been careful when you were a freshman – if your injury was public, you'd lose out on potential future sponsorship deals. All of that was obviously currently a moot point, but you were sure no one really knew the actual reason you dropped out of the U-17.
Atobe chuckles like you've said something funny. "I watched your early U-17 games," he pauses. "You have a hyperoffensive style that you use to push your opponents into playing short, quick games," he leans forwards. "I think it's because you can see their weaknesses."
You inhale sharply. You definitely hadn't told anyone about your insight. You knew that Tezuka probably knew at least some extent of it, but otherwise you had also tried to keep it under wraps. "How do you know?" you ask quietly. "I didn't tell anyone. It doesn't make you popular to point out people's weaknesses to them."
Atobe leans back and places his teacup back down in the saucer. "When I was young, I went to a boarding school in England. Everyone there had private lessons in tennis since they were probably toddlers, and every day, I used to get demolished on the courts. Obviously, the mocking came with that. I used to stay up all night just practicing, over and over again until I could see every weak spot on my opponents' courts. I won the tennis championship that year."
You blink as you try to digest his story.
Atobe sighs. "I'm telling you that I know you also have the insight because of how you play, Michi," he leans forward and picks his teacup back up. "And I can see your ankle as a glaringly obvious weakness even at the beginning your U-17 debut."
You purse your lips and drop your gaze back into your lap. "I hurt my ankle at the end of my freshman season, just before U-17 started. I had already accepted the invitation – of course, it would be insane to decline that as a freshman – but I couldn't play long on my ankle. I had to change my tennis so I could play at that level."
Atobe sighs. "You developed the insight to compensate."
You nod. "The only way I could win games was if I took them quickly, and the insight let me map out each and every shot I needed to take. It worked until…" you purse your lips and gesture at your ankle currently. "It wasn't my tennis, but it was what I needed."
"What is your tennis?" Atobe asks and you glance up.
"I'm not sure anymore," you tell him honestly. "I used to play tennis because there was nothing more addicting than standing on the other side of the court from the strongest players in the world and rising to the challenge."
The two of you sit in silence for a second. You furrow your eyebrows.
"I haven't seen you play before," you tell him. "What do you play tennis for?"
Atobe smirks. "I'm not delusional – I know I'm not good enough to go pro. I play tennis to push other people's limits and show them their true potentials. That's enough for me."
You giggle. "Careful, Atobe. Someone might mistake you for being altruistic with that," you smile.
Atobe leans forwards. "Maybe I am," he smirks. "Is that hard to believe that I could be?"
This time, you do actually laugh. "Okay," you tell him. "You think you're altruistic? Prove it."
He raises an eyebrow. "What would I get for that?" he asks.
"I don't know," you shrug, amused. "Maybe even a second date."
Atobe laughs. "Tempting, but that's not what I'm interested in. If I do this, I want to see you play your real tennis."
You purse your lips but he doesn't flinch and continues to watch you carefully. "Fine," you tell him softly.