The interest to become my subject went beyond my wildest dreams.

Just a week after I set up the posters, I had received seventy-two e-mails. The problem was, how would I choose?

I knew I would only like one, seeing I got socially exhausted very easily. Also, it would be good to focus on one subject only, because then, I would get to know them and their angles properly.

I decided I would read through all of the applications and choose ten that I would ask for a phone interview and a photo. Based on that, I would choose the one.

I started working. Most of them seemed to be incredibly interesting and eccentric, and those who weren't were interesting in their normality. It was incredibly difficult to choose, but in the end, I had my ten.

I started phoning them. After I was finished, I was as exhausted as expected, but also happy. I had asked them for photos, and combined with the conversations I'd had, I was down to three choices.

One was a mother of two, and her entire aura was very down-to-earth, a bit hippie-like almost. She was incredibly kind and grandmotherly and had a soft, grounded beauty to her.

The next was a blonde surfer man that I saw had the potential to both look incredibly hot and incredibly sweet. He was very social and outgoing, and had travelled the world.

The last one was an elderly lady that was incredibly sweet, her elegance having survived the ages. She was looking for something to do after her husband had died.

But just as I believed I had made my choice (the lady), my business phone buzzed with a text.

I checked it to see if it was the international magazine contacting me about the full moon shot I had offered them, but it was an unknown number having sent an incredibly formal text.

Dear Mr. Senju,

I hope you do not find it rude that I text to you instead of e-mailing. I am, at this point, unable to e-mail. I found your phone number online.

I am interested to partake in your pursuit of portrait photography. My name is Madara, I am twenty-seven, I love to take walks and to run, and I have a master's degree in landscape architecture. I saw your poster during one of my walks. I know I'm not very pretty, but perhaps that makes me an interesting subject?

I hope I'm not too late! It has been a week or so since I saw your poster but I haven't been able to contact you until now.

Thank you for your consideration.

Kind regards,

Madara Uchiha

I frowned. Even if his text was less than half of the shortest e-mail of all I had received, there was something indescribably endearing about the way he wrote. But I had already chosen who I wanted. I began typing.

Dear Mr. Uchiha,

Thank you for your shown interest. Unfortunately, I have already found what I was searching for.

I wish you the best of luck in the future!

Best wishes,

Hashirama Senju

I let my finger hover over the send-button, but I didn't press it. Something was stopping me. There was something about his message that had made me think twice. What was it? I read it again.

I'm not very pretty, but perhaps that makes me an interesting subject.

I deleted my message and wrote a new one.

Dear Madara,

Thank you for your interest! I would love to have a phone interview with you! How about today at three pm?

Best wishes,

Hashirama Senju

I pressed send. He answered only a second later.

That will work! I'll wait for your call!

Thank you so much!

Kind regards, Madara

I phoned him at three pm exactly.

"Hello?"

The voice who answered was tenor, clear and sweet and very, very insecure.

"Hi", I said, trying to sound warm. "My name is Hashirama Senju and I'm a photographer."

"Hi!" the man, who must be Madara, said. "I'm Madara. I'm a... person."

That made me smile.

"So, Madara. I thought I would begin by telling you a bit about myself and my work. Or have you searched me already?"

"Umm... No I cannot... I have no access to Google. For reasons."

Hmm. Either, he had stalked me online and didn't want to confess it, or he had not searched one bit and didn't want to confess that either. (The possibility of a third option did not occur to me at that point.)

"Then let me tell you all of it. Don't worry. I'm not that interesting, so it will be fast."

He listened politely.

"You were wrong", he said. "Sounds amazing!"

"Then you haven't heard the number of international awards I have received", I said.

"How many is that?" he asked.

"None!" I said happily, and Madara laughed. It was the sweetest sound, like stream running over rocks in the forest. "Now. Tell me about yourself."

I could hear the pause where he shrugged.

"Not much to tell", he said. "More than what I already wrote."

"Do you work as a landscape architect?"

"No."

"Why not?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Madara stayed silent. Shit. That was a very private question. Maybe he was on a sick leave for depression or something.

"Sorry", I said. "Scratch that. You know what, I forgot to ask you. Could you send me a picture of yourself? So I get a basic understanding of you from a portrait perspective."

For some reason, I felt the need to explain why I asked him if a photo, even if it was a completely reasonable request to ask of someone that you were potentially going to hire for portraits. 

"Oh", he said. "I don't really take pictures of myself."

"Well, I guess you'll need to start now!" I encouraged, realising that I wanted one badly, and not just for business purposes. I was curious about him. "It doesn't need to be anything spectacular. A grainy selfie will do. I just need to understand your proportions and colouring and start thinking."

"Well... Okay, but..."

I wondered what was so awful about his looks that made him want to hide. Did he have a birth mark? In that case, I would love it! Or was he just not that attractive? But finally, he accepted, and I promised him I would get back to him and tell him if he'd gotten the spot or not within the week.

He sent me the photo of him directly after. Not even half a minute passed before my phone pinged. It was as if the man wanted to get it over and done with as fast as possible.

I opened the attached file, not able to help but feeling slightly nervous.

But when I opened it, I almost dropped my phone.

The photo depicted a boy of breathtaking beauty. I had never seen anyone who looked like him before. It was a selfie with a careful smile, his beautifully shaped, thick eyebrows slightly crooked in anxiety. He had a thin nose and sharp jawline. His skin was creamy white, of the sort that got easily burned in the sun. That skin, in turn, billowed over delicate collarbones. He had a thin silver chain resting on his jugular notch, a cosy cardigan showing off his shoulders and, best of all, a thick, black braid slung over one shoulder.

Who had ever been able to make this man believe he was ugly?

I texted him back immediately.

Wow. I mean... Wow. That's it! You have been chosen. When can you come for our first test shot?

I realised I was flirting with him wildly. But he answered politely nonetheless.

Thank you so much for choosing me! How about tomorrow at lunch?

I was, I had to admit, slightly disappointed that he had not flirted back, but maybe he was taken, or straight, or asexual, or just not interested in me.

But I agreed, and we deciding on a time and meeting place.