I Do Not Own Prince Of Tennis. I Do Own Saichi.
A young woman stared at the photograph in her hands. It had been taken by her cousin, Shuuske, when she still lived in Japan. The faces in the photo were smiling up at her. The young woman in the photo shared the same face as her, but the young man…
The young man was a bit older than she with light brown hair, dark brown eyes and glasses. It was on of his rare moments on Christmas day the year before. She had gone home for the first time in months and it had snowed. She smiled at the memory.
The young woman looked out the window of the plane. The Atlantic was visible on her flight from London to New York. She closed her eyes and thought about how many stops she had before she returned.
"Saichi!"
The young woman, Saichi, turned to her left to look at her teacher, Daisuke Omaeda.
"We are landing. Put that stupid picture away and get buckled."
"Yes, Omaeda-sama."
Saichi placed the photo carefully in her pocket and buckled her seat belt.
Four stops, she thought, Only four stops until I exchange this photo for the real thing.