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Niou’s scream rends the air like a knife. The court is silent, save for Niou’s strangled cries as he clutches his ruined arm. Atobe is frozen to the spot, once-imperious features contorted; eyes wide and lips a tight line.
Yukimura inhales sharply; Sanada, ever the stoic, merely clenches his hand into a fist, knuckles white as the blood flees from where bone presses into skin; Yanagi’s eyes areopen, dark and worried.
And Yagyuu feels as if he has taken root; he cannot move although every part of him yearns to vault over the low wall and onto the courts. But Niou would never forgive him, he would never forgive himself. So all he can do is watch, in agony, from the sidelines and Niou struggles painfully to his feet, left arm hanging useless.
But there is a look in his ex-partner’s eyes that says ‘I am not giving up, and fuck you if you think I am’. Yagyuu has seen it before; has seen it thrown across the court to an unfortunate doubles pair from Kyuushu. He has seen it directed at him, when they stood on opposite sides of the net; partner against partner.
He cannot help the smile that spreads across his face as Niou switches his raquet to his right hand. “All those times you were me seem to have paid off, Niou-kun.” He laughs to himself, adjusting his glasses.
Niou glances over his shoulder, winks and settles into an all-too familiar pose at the baseline. Yukimura unfolds his arms and Yagyuu barks out a laugh.
You absolute bastard, Niou-kun.
Unseen to his teammates, but not missed by his opponents, Niou pushes up a pair of imaginary glasses with two fingers and lets a cool smirk settle over his features.
“Adieu.”