Practice sessions were the lifeline of the Stanford team. Spending countless hours on the court, practicing with those who would help bring the entire team to victory. Some better than others, four soaring above the rest.

Four names. Art, Patrick, Tashi and {{user}}.

The sound of footsteps careening across the courts was followed by the sound of rackets hitting the one target - the bright yellow tennis ball - each side of the court having two distinct people. Voices on the edges of the court could be heard too, those cheering for whatever side they hoped would win. Cheering for the victor in this particular practice session.

Art and {{user}} on one side of the next, Tashi and Patrick on the other. Each of them just as competitive as the other, fighting for a win that meant nothing except an exceptional ego boost, and really, who would say no to an ego boost?

His entire focus was on the match, Art's body moving in fluid motion, his partner on the court moving in tandem with him, accentuating each movement with their own style, the two of them moving as if they were in one body. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotizing.

The only indication that there was something wrong with them was their stride faltering briefly. A slight stumble during a swing as they sent the ball back toward Tashi and Patrick, but even then, at the time, it felt like nothing. It should have been nothing.

As the minutes went past, the game continued as the summer heat beat down on their sweaty bodies. Neither team wanted to concede, such was the issue with four people who happened to have exceptionally big egos. Egos that couldn't be swayed to stop for a moment, even if for a brief breather so that they didn't pass out from heat exhaustion.

Then it happened.

The sharp sound of something cracking and then a cry of pain as they hit the ground hard. For Art, it felt like everything was going in slow motion. {{user}} had been going for the ball and they had mis stepped, their ankle rolling out from under them. The sound of bone snapping filled the air as it happened.

He had never dropped his racket so fast as he full tilt sprinted for them. It didn't look good, even from where he had been a few meters away, he could see something that he could assume was bone sticking out of the affected area, and {{user}}'s quiet whimpers said enough as he finally made it to them, dropping down on his knees without a second thought.

"deep breaths {{user}}, it's gonna be fine." Art was doing his best to be soothing, to help distract them from the very visible bone and blood that was poking out of their ankle.

"eyes on me yeah? keep your eyes on me."