WARNING: Mild cursing and many innuendos.

Humming to yourself, you double-stitch the seams on his coveralls. Even though he's washed it many times, the yellow broadcloth still smells of oil. As the Ultimate Seamstress, you pride yourself on that personal touch. While you aren't opposed to using the sewing machine (because gosh, it's so frickin convenient), you make sure that mending jobs, small gifts, and the fine details are all done by hand. It just feels right that way. This week, you've sewn a button back onto Nekomaru's jacket and stitched a pair of shorts and a skirt together for Peko. And now... you're almost done with these frayed seams. Which is perfect timing! Because you need him for something and now you have the perfect excuse to drag him to your bedroom/studio.

Laden with completed projects, you dash out and toward the cafeteria, where Teruteru works diligently and cheerfully.

"Well, hello there, [Y/N]. Don't you look like the cutest little bunny today?" he winks, grabbing a tray for you.

You smile a little at his typical antics, getting riled up. "Look, buddy, just because I'm good at multiplying..." you cut yourself off.

"See, that's precisely what I mean. You seem quite happy. You have the aura of a perky little strawberry ripe for the picking," he continues.

Amused, you push back, "One day, I'm gonna give you an apron made out of fabric with strawberries on it, and you're gonna have to answer why a man like you has that. Because, knowing you, you'll definitely wear it."

"And I'll tell them that [Y/N], my biggest fan, gave it to me to remind me of her."

You laugh and take the tray, heading off to deliver the finished products to your classmates. First, you stop by Nekomaru's table, where he sits with Akane, Sakura, Hina, Mondo, and Taka. Their table is always... loud, to say the least, but also incredibly spirited! You can't help but feel more motivated  when you stop by. After dropping off Neko's pristine jacket and getting some compliments on your diligence that make you feel proud, you make your next stop, where Peko, Fuyuhiko, Mikan, and Ryota eat in silence. It's not an awkward silence, however. It's one of relative contentment. Peko quietly thanks you for a job well done, acknowledging that the ability to train in style is appreciated. Happy to have made her day a little brighter, you walk over to the last table, head held high.

Sonia and Gundham are flirting in their own little way, rambling about souls and demon beasts as Kazuichi haplessly tries to inject himself into the conversation. You sigh to yourself; just another day like any other. Dropping your tray on the table right beside him, you put on your best smile. He flinches and squeals lightly, surprised by the sudden clatter.

"If it isn't my favorite model! How's it going, shark boy?"

He beams up at you. "Yo! It's [Y/N]! You got the goods?"

You dig out the coveralls from your bookbag. "It's as though the sleeve never tore in the first place!"

He whistles, impressed. "That's my [Y/N]! It's perfect! How much do I owe ya?"

"You know how you can pay me... With your body..." You purposefully make it sound as nasty as possible, just because it's funny. But everyone who knows you understands what you mean when you say that.

Even so, you smile with satisfaction when Gundham pipes in, "You heathen! Do you desire that he don the cloak of destruction? His flesh will not survive!"

"Oh, are you worried that the garment I stitched might allow him to usurp a fragment of the galaxy's power?" you play along. He sputters and gasps at your outrageous assertion.

"My, [Y/N]! While your clothing is impeccable, I do not believe any clothes could help someone like Kazuichi," Sonia snips, making the poor boy wilt.

"You'd be surprised how much confidence a nice modeling session can give! Plus, he really is my best model," you fiddle with the measuring tape around your neck. To your joy, he seems to thrive from the compliment.

As you eat your chicken parmesan and Caesar salad, you think on this a little more. Proportionally, he's just right. You've only tried out two other men whose measurements are similarly perfect: Nagito Komaeda, infamous luckster and hope fanboy, and Hajime Hinata, the reserve course student who spends a lot of time with your class. Of these three, Kazuichi is by far the most convenient; Hajime's schedule is too different from yours for there to be a large window of opportunity. The two attempts to use Nagito, on the other hand, ended... disastrously, to say the least, and you've learned your lesson. But aside from convenience and a great BMI of 21.4, he also has one key advantage. You love his company more than almost anyone else's. You find that you feel more energized when he's at your side, and more honest. It's been that way for practically your entire high school life.

Having finished his dinner, he tosses his fork back on the plate, grinning widely and showing off his sharp teeth.

"You're done? Already?" you ask, shocked.

"C'mon! I can't wait anymore!" he bounces up and down in his chair like an antsy child.

"At least let me fucking finish—"

"Nope!" he denies cheekily with a laugh, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the cafeteria. His hands are warm and rough from fixing so many machines and making so many vehicles. Your talents are similar in that way; you can find happiness in creating new things and in mending things that people hold dear. You find yourself tightening the grip ever so slightly as he marches you to your room. You open the door and let him in, unlocking the door to the bathroom for him. You wave a hand over an outfit you whipped up; a white rayon t-shirt, a lightly studded burgundy leather jacket, and a pair of dark-wash jeans.

"Hell yeah! This looks great!" he cheers, taking it up into his arms and running into the bathroom to change. You turn and see the little sewing kit that came with your room. What a pitiful set. With a start, you realize that you need to check on your own outfit. You check on each individual item quickly but thoroughly: burgundy denim high-water jeans, beige rayon crop-top, and fuzzy beige ankle boots.

Luckily, you stow them carefully away in your closet and shut the door just as he steps out. You give a cute little applause. You get to work then, making small adjustments that take only a few minutes. Your deft motions are steady and efficient, despite the pace. Soon, you grab your camera— you aren't nearly to Mahiru's level, but you always like to have an impromptu photo shoot— and snap away. He poses dramatically, flexes, puts his hand behind his head, all sorts of things, and the two of you dissolve into laughter. You make sure to snap plenty of him while in this state, because, no matter how smooth he thinks he is, he looks at his best when he's joking around. Eventually, you both settle down and sit on your bed.

"T-Thanks, [Y/N]. I was having kind of a rough day with Miss Sonia. I really needed this," he smiles softly, eyes closed.

"Why are you still going after her? You know she'll never feel that way about you," you rub his shoulder, trying to rip the bandage off. He winces.

"Yeah, I know. But it's just so... simple. She's a beautiful, graceful blonde princess. She's excitable and sweet. I don't have to know her very well to be attracted to her, and that's a relief. It's easy."

"But it's hurting you!" you exclaim, "It hurts you when she says mean things... when she's dismissive of you... when she and Gundham get along well. That's not worth it!"

"That's such a small amount of pain, though. If I were to ask her on a date, I know she'd say no. It would suck, sure, but it wouldn't hurt so bad. But if I ever fell for someone who... really matters to me, and they say no... that would like... maaaaajorly suck, y'know?"

You feel your face heat up and you realize that your leg has been shaking.

"Aw, shit, I didn't mean to get all depressed like that. Smile, [Y/N]! It's always super fun to be your model! I really dig this outfit, and it was practically a perfect fit even before alterations! It's like it was tailor-made for me!" he admires it.

"S-Surprise! It was!" you admit, doing jazz hands. You even coordinated the colors to look nice with his hot pink hair, though you don't tell him this part.

"Seriously?! You mean it?! So I can have it?" he asks, stars in his eyes.

"Yep. But," you pipe up, pushing through the rush of nerves, "there's one condition."

"What?! But I thought it was a present! Laaaaame!" he playfully shoves you, and you giggle.

"It's nothing bad, I promise! Or at least, I hope it's not bad," you twiddle your fingers.

"More modeling? You know I'm down whenever I have some free time!"

"No, it's not that. It's just— Hope's Peak is throwing a music festival in a few days. Our friends organized all of it: Sayaka, Ibuki, Leon... even Hiyoko! You can keep it no matter what, but I would really appreciate if you would wear it to the festival," you look down.

"For publicity? Done and done! By the time the night's over, everyone will be begging you for custom designs!"

You don't say anything. You can't find the right words.

Then it seems to click in his brain. He puts a hand behind his head and smiles humbly. "You want me to spend it with you, right?"

In an attempt to ease up, you flip to your favorite defense mechanism: innocent innuendos. "I want you all night long," you say suggestively.

He suavely raises his eyebrows. "Then I'm all yours. Do whatever you want with me." The two of you crack up even more. "Alright, Imma head back to my room, [Y/N]. My hands are twitching. I need to go deconstruct a little something something. You feel?"

"I feel. You're gonna go play with your nuts," you confirm.

"And bolts. And screws. And my God, your mind is almost more dirty than mine!" He sticks out his tongue before going back to change into his normal outfit. Success! You fall backward onto your bed and kick your legs up in silent celebration.