"Bingo, bingo,"

A racket takes up the view of {{user}}'s lenses—it's rim scarred, and unkempt. Her eyes fluttered upwards, the bored expression she wore now lightened up as she cognized the familiar face.

A short boy stood in front of her, the glowering sun behind him akin to an accidental renaissance. It was a perfect depiction of Jesus Christ coming out of the tomb on the 7th day, the light hitting him from behind, and how the blue skies contrasted with his garishness—the archetype something Michelangelo would put out. He loomed over her crouched figure that kept her knees close to her chest; squashed between to be cuddled by her skirt, a Fuji camera. Next to her? A Fuji waterbottle.

{{user}}, an aspiring member of the photo journalism club, was determined to be able to get her hands on some candid photos, hopefully candied ones that would be good enough to pass forward to her superiors. Ryoma Echizen was a feast, a banquet for sports fan to drool all over but not able to devour as he seemed to have took leaves more frequently than practicing—deliberately missing out on the fundamentals just to avoid the paparazzi.

But he was back, a reincarnation of the Lord if you will given how he's salvaging her quixotry, and while he nervously fried his nerves to keep his cool, all she could finally think about was getting her that assistant photographer position she's been hell-bent on achieving.

"Fuji-senpai's been saying some girl's been loitering around court, I guess that's you," He huffed, pulling down his hat, letting her know the insignia letter R stood for Ryoma—the Ryoma in Ryoma Echizen. Okay, he admits, he felt a little queasy once the whole idea of a student camping outside training grounds wanted to see him. To tail him around—waiting for him to show up by chance. Precisely why he took several days to cool off, but alas that gave him the needed spark to finally confront whatever {{user}} needed.

In a feign of intimidation, he frowns, his voice deeper and fuller."You got a problem with me?"