Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Tennis.

Sakuno falls in love with the man in the photograph.

The Man in the Photograph

Sakuno smiles at the enigmatic waitress who stood beside her table as she returned the elegant, plain-toned menu.

"Grande creme." The doe-eyed brunette says softly, not minding the subtle break in her poor French. The beautiful server nods simply and gracefully spun back towards the counter. Sakuno takes a gander around. The small smile on her face seems to be etched into her features. Amid the dim, cloudy sky, nothing lessened the Parisian immersion for her. At the age of twenty-six, as is attributed to today's millennials, she was well-traveled. After coming from a business trip in London, her boss' invitation for a detour to Paris was more than welcome. Unlike her mentor who was out meeting friends, Sakuno had no place to be. So, a solitary walk around the romantic vicinity it was. And that simple escape was enough to take her breath away.

It was starting to drizzle outside the cafe when her flat white was served. Turning to her phone, she unlocked it, checking for any notifications in passing, swiped up and raised the camera to the dreary view, capturing a photograph.

"Would you want me to take a picture?"

Sakuno looks up with a surprised expression. With a light blush on her white cheeks, she broke into an awkward smile before nodding shyly. The beautiful waitress hid a smile behind the palm of her hand before stepping towards Sakuno for her phone.

"Say, cheese!" The French woman smiles widely, her enunciation was longer, more slurred. And Sakuno, upon the return of her phone, nods in gratitude before looking at her picture. A beautiful smile makes its way to her face at the sight of the sophisticated and elegant landscape behind her.

"Are those pictures of celebrities who have visited?" Sakuno asks a while later, gesturing to the polaroids hung on the wall. Her drink consumed and a cheesecake, eaten. The same waitress behind the counter nods. Then, with the towel she was using to wipe cups, stretched out and pointed at the photograph on the far left.

"This is the most recent, sometime after he won the Tournoi de Roland-Garros." She says with a pleasant curve to her lips. Sakuno's hazel eyes followed the tip of the woman's finger and lands on the picture of a man she knew well. "I'm sure you know him." When Sakuno nods in reply, the waitress continues to speak. "Just the other day, he proposed to his girlfriend in the restaurant across the street. The bistro was a pizzeria, still, everything in Paris is romantic, wouldn't you agree?"

A smile stretches Sakuno's pink lips as she nods amid the sudden swell in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes," The young woman looks around and couldn't help but agree at the sight of the beauty before her. "He's still in the area, then?" She suddenly asks, turning back to the waitress. But, she cafe's attendant was gone, shuffling through items somewhere in storage.

Alone once again, amid the few tables of locals and tourists alike speaking in foreign tongues, Sakuno stares at the solitary picture of the man she knew quite well, back then, and even more so recently. The outline of his face, the boyish charm of his nonchalant grin as he stares into the photographer, his very image captivated her and stole her heart more than the city of Paris ever could. Unaware and entranced, minutes pass until his photograph is burnt into her memory. Raising her hands to her face, she lets out a deep and hallow breath, a heavy burden lunged in her chest.

A moment passes and she pays her bill. Resolute in leaving abruptly to hideaway in her hotel room, she suddenly pauses before the strong downpour drenched her. She looked up and pursed her lips, hit with the realization of the shower. Turning to the floor to watch her step, she pulled back the bangs over her eye behind her ear and stepped back into the cover of open-air cafe. Sakuno looks around and oddly, her anxious heart eased. The streets were empty and the buzzing noise mellowed.

A smile makes its way to her lips as she shook her head, thinking herself gullible. She steps aside and checks her phone. A passing cab stops in front of the cafe and Sakuno keeps her mobile. Turning to catch a quick glance over her shoulder, and finding nothing to heed, she raised the collar of her ebony pea coat and ducked, braving through the downpour. Her heart beats deafeningly into her ears, in her chest, as she darts through the rain. It doesn't take long before a deep voice calls out after her amid the shower, out-of-breath. Sakuno, soaked turns around with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes from the rain. She couldn't make out the figure meters before her, regardless, she knew who it was.

"I shouldn't have come!" She yells through the heavy downpour. She waits a while, hands in her drenched coat, and glares as she tried to make out the shadow approaching her. Still, as her heart tore through her chest, she knew in her heart who it was. With the figure closing their gap, Sakuno turned and looked sideways before crossing the street. Before she knows it, she is sprinting down the sidewalk, her vision compromised, her clothes heavy, and the air, painfully cold.

"Dammit, Ryuzaki!" She thinks she hears him yell. But, she doesn't stop and only quickens her pace when she thinks she hears his footsteps. In the upcoming block, she sees a staircase leading underground and heads there to hide. Within seconds, his footsteps pass by her. And she breathes in the cold air, huffing painfully as her numb digits tightened around the strap of her shoulder bag.

She recalls standing behind the scenes of the publicity stunt. She recalls him taking her to catch her train station back to London. And she recalls his confession.

Then, she pauses.

Her feet take her up the staircase where he finds her.

END.