OK, so maybe he was standing a little close to Tezuka-buchou. And maybe he had just won Singles Two six games to love, clinching the match for Seigaku. And maybe he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have.
That wasn't an excuse for Momo-senpai to shove him so damn hard, though. Ryoma blinked, reorienting himself and rather belatedly realising that he was sprawled on top of Tezuka-buchou, who was flat on his back on the court. And looking at him from far too close...
"Ah... oops?" Momo-senpai tried hopefully, grabbing hold of Ryoma's arm and hoisting him off the captain and back onto his feet. "Sorry, sorry!"
"Che." Ryoma wrenched himself free of his senpai's grip, staring mournfully at the sudden lack of Ponta in his previously-full can.
"Be more careful," was all Tezuka-buchou said as he pushed himself to his feet. Ryoma inhaled sharply, eyes suddenly drawn to the sticky, spreading purple stain moulding Tezuka's shirt to his chest. He could still taste the metallic sweetness on his tongue...
"Yes, buchou." Momo-senpai's voice sounded very far off, and very apologetic. Distantly, eyes following the trail of drops across sharp-cut collarbones, Ryoma wondered why.
"Echizen?"
"Oi, Echizen!"
"Hoi, Ochibi, anyone in there nya?"
"...Eh, he's out for the count. Did you have to hit him so hard?"