Noon meeting
"There is no player who is more cooperative than Tezuka."
That's what the medical team is saying today.
After lunch break, the medical team gathered in a conference room, sitting or standing in relaxed postures, each with a cup of black coffee in hand.
During this rare moment of relaxation, they chatted about casual topics, such as Tezuka Kunimitsu's unusual behavior that morning.
Kazusa sat between them, her head slightly bowed as she busied herself on her tablet. A slight smile would appear on her lips when she heard an interesting point. However, she didn't join the conversation; her gaze remained focused on the screen, her stylus occasionally gliding or clicking rapidly.
Everyone was used to this and knew that she would sit there alone before the routine lunch meeting to process some documents, so no one would talk to her or interrupt her thoughts, nor would they intentionally distance themselves from her because of her lack of participation.
If you stand at the entrance and look out, you'll notice an interesting phenomenon—the students are loosely distributed, almost as if divided by their assigned school. To her left is Heidelberg University, and to her right are mostly students from the University of Tokyo.
"Honestly, Tezuka was unusually kind today." A student from Tokyo University took a sip of coffee and remarked to the person next to him, "When Yagyu-san was called away by the professor this morning, I was taking over monitoring Tezuka's electromyography data, right? I accidentally clicked the wrong data and replaced the previous one, and Tezuka actually came over and offered to cooperate and go through the movements again."
It's not that Tezuka is usually cold-hearted, it's just that he wouldn't normally pay attention to the medical team's work like this.
“If you’re going to say he was distracted on the field,” another person joined the discussion with his arms crossed, “his HRV was so low that his nervous system didn’t relax all morning.”
Hearing the curious whispers and speculations about Tezuka around her, Kazuna raised an eyebrow, but continued working. Only after finishing her notes did she casually add a cute cat paw doodle at the end, revealing her excellent mood.
She had just put down her pen when two professors walked in side by side.
The leisurely lunch break is finally over.
The meeting room curtains were drawn, and the sheer pleated blinds softened the somewhat harsh winter sunlight.
The students, who had just been slouching, sat solemnly around a long table, their laptops and notebooks covering the surface. The air was thick with the faint scent of disinfectant mixed with the aroma of coffee—a truly invigorating aroma.
The medical team's routine meeting was a brief summary and presentation of the previous day's work. The presentation itself was nothing unusual; what made the group of excellent students uneasy was that, after the presentation, the two professors would randomly ask them questions.
Random means that the people being asked questions are random, the questions themselves are random, and the number of times the questions are asked is also random.
Therefore, after each presentation, the atmosphere became even more tense, and the entire conference room became unusually quiet...
The two professors sat in the main seats, flipping through internship reports with no discernible emotion on their faces. This made the students sitting below them even more uneasy, each one keeping their eyes down, afraid of accidentally meeting the professors' gaze.
Just then, Professor Antberg gave a faint "humph," his sharp gaze sweeping across the room before finally settling on a student in the corner.
At this moment, people always seem to have a one-second premonition. Before Professor Antberg could speak, the student was pulled up by the back of the neck as if by some unknown force, and met Antberg's gaze, which said, "It's you."
Seeing his anxious expression, Antberg spoke up: "Karl, tell me, during high-intensity training, which set of nerves is most likely to be stimulated by the repetitive high-speed shoulder swing?"
The student, named Carl, rubbed his tousled brown curly hair and answered somewhat nervously, "The axillary nerve...? It's closely related to shoulder joint movement."
Professor Antberg remained noncommittal, his expression unreadable. Then, he called on a student with a ponytail and asked in English, "Ms. Kobayashi, if the athlete's complaint wasn't just simple pain, but also intermittent numbness in the little and ring fingers, where would your first judgment point?"
Kobayashi easily recalled the method that Kanade had used to block Ueno Kento for her last time. Her attitude was much more rigorous than Karl's. After thinking for a moment, she adjusted her glasses and answered concisely, "It's an ulnar nerve problem, but we may need to rule out compression of the cervical nerve root."
This answer prompted her mentor, Professor Uchida, to nod with a smile, but Professor Antberg simply hummed in agreement without offering any further comment.
This made everyone's hearts, which had been slowly calming down, jump again, and a quiet tension filled the conference room.
Finally, Antberg's gaze passed over his glasses and landed on the thoughtful Kazusa.
“Melodia,” Professor Antberg called her name. “You can independently monitor and analyze data, so tell me, suppose this athlete has the above symptoms, and the MRI shows mild stenosis of the C5-C6 intervertebral foramen, but the electromyography is negative…”
He paused here, seemingly giving Hezou time to process the question, then, with a half-smile, he began again:
Do you think the real culprit is more likely in the neck or the periphery?
What are the key clinical examinations for differential diagnosis?
From a neurosurgical perspective, if intervention is needed, what are the priority principles?
How to balance aggressive treatment with career risks?
Professor Antberg relentlessly posed four questions, progressing step by step from clinical aspects to countermeasures, which dramatically escalated the previously basic questions.
"?!"
A collective gasp filled the conference room, and all eyes turned to the silent Kazusa.
Wazou did not answer immediately. She calmly looked at the professor, who was raising his eyebrows and waiting for her answer. After a few seconds of contemplation, she spoke clearly.
"First, the lesion of responsibility is more likely to be peripheral, specifically in the thoracic outlet region or the cubital tunnel. The reason is, as Kobayashi-san just mentioned, that the symptoms are consistent with the distribution of the ulnar nerve, while C5-C6 stenosis mainly affects the radial nerve innervation area, and a negative electromyography can rule out cervical nerve root damage."
"The key differential diagnosis tests are the thoracic outlet syndrome test and the cubital tunnel percussion test."
"As for intervention principles, my suggestion is to prioritize conservative treatment. If the nerve decompression and functional remodeling are effective, surgery can be ruled out. Any radical surgery will leave scars and bring the risk of scar tissue formation. This risk may not have a significant impact on ordinary people, but it is undoubtedly disastrous for athletes who rely on fine control and explosive power."
"If the patient is an athlete chasing the top, our goal is not to cure him, but to create an environment where he can continue his career with full force."
The last sentence seemed to contradict the professional ethics of doctors, and some people had already frowned, but Kazusa spoke with absolute certainty.
Antberg stared at Kazusa with a stern look for a long time, his face stern. Seeing the unwavering determination in her eyes, a hint of satisfaction finally shone through his cold, icy gaze, and he hummed in agreement.
This is the same feedback as the response given to Kobayashi.
Upon hearing this, many students showed expressions of regret. It was already quite remarkable that they could answer this set of questions so clearly and logically in such a short time. Even they couldn't have provided a more perfect answer.
Professor Antberg's dissatisfaction likely stemmed from her final answer.
Professor Uchida, however, looked at Kazusa with a broad smile and praised her, saying, "Very good."
The medical profession is highly specialized, and a doctor's judgment is often decisive for the patient. However, he firmly believes that an athlete's career should also be respected, rather than simply addressing a single lesion.
They are not just dealing with a clinical condition, but with a person, and the dreams and future he carries.
This is another significance of his interdisciplinary collaboration with Antberg.
With Professor Uchida's affirmation, Kanade nodded slightly in thanks, then stopped reacting to the commotion around her and instead lowered her head to write something on her Pad.
She appeared perfectly normal, with only a hint of emotion betrayed by her slightly pursed lips.
The diagnosis she had just received made her unconsciously associate it with someone else.
If this patient is Tezuka, Kanade finds that her answer is becoming uncertain.
But after a while, she changed her mind and felt relieved—Tezuka Kunimitsu would not leave the power of life's choices to anyone, and therefore did not need her answer.
Yet even with such a strong will and determination, Tezuka Kunimitsu would become a docile, innocent baby who would proactively report to the doctor out of embarrassment and remorse!
During the afternoon training session, Kazusa witnessed firsthand the concrete manifestation of the statement, "There is no player more cooperative than Tezuka."
During breaks, he would actually come over to her and tell her about his current physical condition.
As He Zou watched him press his left shoulder, he whispered to her, "Your left shoulder is sore, level 1."
Oh, during her previous consultation, she divided the pain level into 1 to 10 for easier recording and description.
Level 1, well, that's normal soreness after high-intensity training. Most people, comparing their training volume to his, would be at least a level 4 in pain right now.
"..." Kazuna looked at the values fluctuating within the normal range on the display and gave an exceptionally bright smile, offering a very unprofessional suggestion or rather, a sarcastic remark: "You could reduce the frequency of your spiking."
Hearing her teasing tone, Tezuka paused for a moment while drinking water, then replied, "...Okay."
This reaction amused Kazusa once again.
The reason for Tezuka's unusual behavior is probably because he felt that he had been rude to him last night.
Good news: He remembers what happened last night.
The bad news: he took it as an "offense".
She could even guess his thought process; given his self-disciplined nature, the only way he could think of to express his apology was to actively cooperate with her work.
Who else but him would come up with the idea of apologizing for "increasing the other person's workload"? Besides, if we're talking about who's to blame, it's her.
Fortunately, He Zou already knows him well enough.
The almost clumsy attempt at remediation became evidence in Hezou's eyes.
This proves that he cares.
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