A/N: A challenge from rage-chan. This takes place after the Nationals semi-final.

After Match

by: sonofon

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From the moment Fuji's match with Shiraishi ends, he is caught in a whirlwind. A wave overcomes him, and he is confused, really, by the range of emotions exhibited, but it is a tight grip on his wrist that leads him away. His first thought is that it is from Kawamura; he is bringing Fuji back to the others.

Fuji isn't sure what to say: what is there to say after you've lost your first official singles match? He feels faint, almost, but not from exhaustion. He feels as if he could play ten more hours of tennis if he wanted to, and a small part of him suddenly wishes to do this.

But he can't.

For Fuji realizes where he is. That he isn't with his teammates comforting him, and even Ryuzaki sensei isn't there to even scold him (though she probably wouldn't have found the right words to say).

No, because Fuji sees that he is in a café; that the face sitting across from him is none other than his conqueror: Shiraishi Kuranosuke.

"You still out of it?" He seems comfortable, where he is. An elbow languidly placed on the table in a vertical manner so that he can rest his chin in the palm of his hand. He gives Fuji a look. "You've looked dizzy for a while."

"No." This is Fuji's instinct. He doesn't know why he is sitting with Shiraishi; he doesn't want to be here. Even Echizen's glare or 'mada mada dane' would be better. He smiles a sad smile and thinks that for the first time, he may have deserved it. Opportunities of victory come only so many times, and to waste such a moment, a gift, really, is shameful. Fuji knows this.

"You look like you've been trampled by elephants or something," Shiraishi observes.

"I don't know what gives you that idea," Fuji replies. "But, really"–he begins to stand to up–"please excuse me. I've other places to be." He thinks of Seigaku; would they have wondered where he was?

"Leaving already?" Shiraishi raises one incredulous eyebrow. "I haven't even treated you yet."

"Excuse me, but I see no reason for you to even treat–"

"It's customary," and he reaches across the table and holds onto Fuji's arm in a tightening hold that is at once gentle and firm, "for the winner to treat the loser, no?" It forces Fuji to think that it was probably in this way that Shiraishi brought him here.

"I would prefer it," Fuji manages through slightly clenched teeth with still maintaining an eerie smile, "if you did not refer to me as 'loser'." This is the first time he's been called that. It's almost disconcerting.

"But it's true," Shiraishi points out, and he is, of course, right. Fuji sits back down, and the other boy hands him a menu. "They have good sandwiches," he adds.

"I don't see why you expect me to be here," Fuji says, refusing to open the menu. It sits contentedly on the checkered tablecloth; it almost seems to be waiting for him to open it up.

"I said," he repeats, "the winner treats the loser. So we're here."

"You could have asked."

"But would you have said yes?"

Fuji doesn't come up with a reply. Shiraishi takes that as no. "Pick something. Anything. The waitress has been waiting patiently for some time now."

Taking another breath to calm himself down, the tensai says, "Do you really expect me to sit here with you and eat?" The way Fuji says 'here', it is almost as if they are currently dining at the mouth of a black hole that is only too eager to suck them in. Shiraishi looks offended.

"Fine," he finally says, "I'll order for you then."

"That is hardly what I mean–"

Too late. With a knowing glance at the waitress, Shiraishi beckons her over, and before Fuji can object, two orders of some mysterious meal has been made, and glasses of cold water are set in front of them.

"Might as well enjoy it," Shiraishi says, offering a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"Oh, sure," he replies. He crosses his arms and musters as furtive of a look as he's ever given. Shiraishi, unfortunately, doesn't seem to notice.

"They've been open for years," he instead says. "I always like to come here. Good food."

"Really," Fuji says.

"Of course," Shiraishi says.

When the food comes, Fuji looks hesitantly over at it while Shiraishi begins eating without a second thought. He takes a bite of the sandwich (which he still doesn't know what it is). He chews. It's quite spicy.

Surprised, Fuji looks up at Shiraishi, who returns the look with a grin. So Fuji looks down at his sandwich, then at Shiraishi; finally, he begins to eat.

For the first time after his match, he feels the pang of his hunger catch up to him, and besides, what is being offered is free food, which Fuji would never want turn down.

And so, for the second time that day, Shiraishi has won.