[Prince of Tennis] Seven Days: The Fourth

[shiraume_fic]

Seven Days: The Fourth

522 words. Rated G. Attempted Humor Fluff & Romance. Originally written on 10/10/2011.



Type

"The kind of person I like?" There was a small pause, then Fuji smiled and tilted his head minutely. "Oh, I guess someone who makes me laugh," he decided, words accompanied by a soft laugh. The girl conducting the interview (for the school newspaper, she said) smiled back, clearly charmed. Tezuka held back a scowl of annoyance.

That was the thing, though. Fuji smiled a lot. Laughed pretty easily, too. While Tezuka knew better than to conclude it meant three-fourth of the world's population was Fuji's type, it didn't offer any hints, either.

"So what, Fuji, you like someone funny?" was Kikumaru's conclusion, but he didn't have a chance to finish the thought before the interviewer immediately turned to him and asked the same question. Tezuka sent the girl a forbidding look, hoping to ward her off from approaching him for an interview, and quickly retreated to the court.

Sense of humor, Tezuka supposed, would be universally appreciated. He liked comedy shows himself, though he had a feeling none of his teammates (other than Oishi, who saw his video collection) would believe it. But liking comedy was one thing; he knew he wasn't particularly funny. Or entertaining in general. Unless one liked watching tennis, of course, but – in his opinion anyway – tennis was hardly a spectator's sport.

After the practice, Fuji walked with him part of the way, just like he always did ever since they were first-years. Fuji made small talk and asked him questions about things Tezuka was sure he already knew the answers to, and Tezuka wondered if there was something he should be asking Fuji.

"What kind of person makes you laugh?"

Fuji blinked at him. Then smiled. "What makes you laugh?"

That wasn't fair, asking a question in lieu of an answer. But it'd be beneath him to point it out. "Something amusing," Tezuka answered truthfully.

"Anything else?"

"You," Tezuka said, piqued. He hadn't asked just so Fuji could turn it back on him.

Also, it was the truth.

Tezuka was a bit surprised to find Fuji look...shy? "Well," Fuji said after a pause. "Me too."

And then it dawned on him. Whenever Fuji laughed when they were together, it was different from his usual laughter: it was a softer, sweeter kind of laugh he didn't let others hear.

"You told her you liked someone with beautiful fingers," Tezuka said, and it wasn't so much a question as an accusation. Fuji looked amused at that.

"And you wrote you liked someone who works hard," Fuji countered, but his eyes were sparkling with humor. "Are you saying I lack judgment? Because I find your fingers quite nice."

"No," Tezuka replied evenly. "Am I mistaken to believe you work hard?" Prodigy or not, Fuji delved into his subject of interest with amazing tenacity and passion that had to be seen to be believed. Of their team, Tezuka had been the only one unsurprised when Fuji won an award for his meticulous research paper on cacti.

"Takes one to know one," Fuji said, and laughed, because they both knew they weren't just talking about working hard. "Nice save, though."

"Likewise."