Disclaimer: Nothing of Tennis belongs to me.
A/N: I have decided to re-write this story of mine, and I hope it will turn out well:) Reviews are loved!
Our Art: Prologue
"Memory is deceptive because it is colored by today's events."
- Albert Einstein
She looks at the photo in her hands, and wonders if she will ever have the chance to witness again the scene captured in the photo.
The snowstorm caught them by surprise, but in the midst of it all, she managed to take some decent shots of the torrent of snow and ice. The blinding whiteness of the snow contrasted sharply against the darkness of the night sky, and in that moment, all she could think of was the freezing numbness.
It helped to take away the pain slightly, as the coldness distracted her from her own thoughts, and for just a short while, she felt a sense of relief. It was as if in that moment, all she needed to do was to keep breathing.
--
She flips the photo over, and writes a couple of sentences on the back. It has become a habit to select a photo taken in every different place she travels to, in order to use the photo as a postcard to send home. She ends off the writing with a familiar line, one she repeats in each postcard, with the hope that he will know how he is not forgotten.
I wish you were here with me, I miss you.
Two years is a long time, and she would rather spend the time being by his side. But they made a promise to each other, and she is not someone who will go back on her words. Neither is he.
She ponders if she should tell him that she is going back soon.
But before she can dwell on that thought, a strong gust of wind reminds her that it is not good to stay out in the cold for too long. With a soft sigh, she drops the postcard into the mailbox. 'I guess he will have to find out the hard way then.'
--
Sometimes, the past just refuses to leave your mind. Events and feelings of long ago haunt you in the form of memories. A photo, a note, a familiar song…
In this case, it is his mentor's camera.
Four years after his last meeting with his teacher, he is left with nothing but regret, and a camera.
He looks at the familiar handwriting on the note that came along with the camera, and tries his hardest to not give in to the guilt.
Forgive me.
--
He grips the note in his hands, wanting to re-write the mistake in his life. He should have been the one to ask for forgiveness, and not the other way around.
At times, he wishes that moments in life can simply be erased.
But in the present moment, he knows he should not dwell too much on the past, and it is best to move on. However, he understands also that it's only human to find it difficult to let go.
With a slight hesitancy in his steps, Fuji picks up the camera, walks over to the balcony, and presses the button. One photo at a time, he will slowly try to fulfill those dreams that were dreamed for him.