The girl was seeking out inspiration, particularly in terms of silhouettes. She was feeling experimental and wanted to try out some fun shapes for her designs. In doing so, she decided to spend some time looking at shadows. As she wandered from her dorm room to her favorite coffee shop, she stared down at the ground, looking at overlapping trees and street lamps and whatnot. Occasionally, she'd strike a pose to further add to the shapes, using herself as a prop.

At one point, she noticed something ever so slightly off about the shadow of this specific tree. It looked like— maybe a foot? She swiveled her head around to look. The foot tried to escape, but to no avail; the slight gasp of surprise betrayed the relative stealth of the tree's inhabitant. "Hello?" she questioned, wondering whether she should be running.

The boy flailed for a second and nearly toppled straight to the ground, but he caught himself with a branch just long enough to get into a better position, and he ultimately landed on his feet. His eyes were alert and his body was tense, as though he was considering booking it. So Ume tried to make herself look as gentle and non-threatening as possible, which was the slightest bit difficult given that she was usually pretty guarded herself. "Hey. I know you, don't I? You go to Hope's Peak. One of the unsorted students who don't have an official class, right?" He gave a hesitant nod in response to her recognition. "I'm Ume Ito. Ultimate Seamstress." He gave a brief noise of understanding and his eyes wandered to the tape measure she wore around her neck. "And you are?" she prodded lightly.

"M-Mochizuki. D-Daichi Mochizuki," he stuttered, seemingly taken off-guard. There was a brief awkward silence until he figured out that she was still waiting to hear his talent. "Ultimate S-Survivalist. S-Sorry."

"Ahhhhh," she clicked her tongue, "now that explains the tree." She gave him a warm smile. "It's your morning wood!" she commented with a smirk. It seemed to take him a few seconds to process exactly what she'd said, and then he turned beet red. Ohhhh, that was a fun reaction, now wasn't it?

"That's r-rather crass," he coughed lightly, as though trying to find the proper way to address it.

"Yeah, that's the point," she laughed softly, trying to make it clear that she was laughing with him and not at him. "That's my kind of humor— it's never about sex, but if it's at all possible, I'll make it sound like it is. I try to be as upfront as I can when I first meet people— y'know, really rub it in their faces— so that they can decide for themselves if they wanna bother with me," she explained.

A tiny smile emerged on his face, which made her feel a strange sense of triumph. "Th-That sort of thing tends to g-go over my head. I'm sure that'll lead to some f-funny things... if we s-see each other around and stuff." He tugged nervously at the sleeve of his sweater.

"Aren't you hot? It's pretty warm out today."

He bit his lip ever so slightly, as though trying to hide that it was his instinctive reaction. "I... The t-temperature's alright."

"I'd be interested in seeing you take it off," she said with a sensual lilt to her tone, experimenting. "Y'know. Like, I can make you cooler clothes and stuff. Seamstress and all."

The fluster and shock in his expression drained when she clarified her meaning. He clearly wasn't used to that sort of banter, but he took it in stride, which she found entertaining. "I-I'm fine. But th-thank you."

"Ah, damn. Guess that's off the table. Hey, there's still... about an hour before classes start for the day. Wanna get some coffee? I was on my way to get some."

He fidgeted a bit and looked away, seemingly considering it. "Tea... maybe."

"Ah, I see. You've got a bit of a delicate palate, have you?"

"Mmm... d-delicate isn't the word. More like r-rugged," he murmured. "Herbal t-teas can be whipped up in th-the wilderness, but coffee... not so much."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, making him jump slightly with a sudden spike in volume. "Shit, sorry, sorry. It's just interesting, meeting someone like you. It's not like I mean this in an immoral way, but I guess I'm kinda materialistic; my life involves a lot more than the bare essentials, so it's kinda cool meeting someone... well, yeah, someone a bit more rugged." She began to walk as she explained, and to her satisfaction, he followed her with quick footsteps.

"I-I'm... really nothing special. Umm... t-tell me about yourself, Miss Ito."

"Real specific," she snarked automatically.

"A-Ah! S-Sorry! I've never been v-very good at talking to people, s-so I don't know exactly how to get to know anyone. L-Let me come up with a more specific question."

"Sorry for the sarcasm. I can tell you're trying your hardest."

He made eye contact with her quickly only to drop it after a mere moment. "Let's... if we... fuck."

Before she could stop herself, she took advantage of the situation. "If we fuck?"

"That's not what I meant! J-Just—! Oh, nevermind." She gave a nod of acknowledgment toward the café and his eyes lit up when he noticed. He jogged to the door and opened it wide for her, staring at the ground and shuffling a shy foot. She couldn't help but laugh at his eagerness. "J-Just trying to be gentlemanly," he mumbled, and, to her frustration, his hair masked his face as he closed the door behind himself.

As soon as Daichi approached, the salesperson prattled on about a deal they were having— a dessert half off with the order of a regular drink— and their energy level made him hug himself instinctively. He stuttered through a drink order and then paused. In a volume she could only pick up on because she was so close to him, he said, "I-I don't like sweets, but the sale..."

"A cake pop for him!" she piped up, "A dark chocolate one." She then ordered for herself with much more confidence. They split the bill and made their way to a table.

He once again tugged at his sweater's sleeves. "U-Um... do you like... animals?" Wow. Everything that came out of his mouth was so charmingly awkward, especially since she could tell that was the best he could muster. "Why are you l-looking at me like that? Ah shit, w-was that cringey? Oh my God, I'm so sorry, forget I—"

"Sure! Animal prints are good in fashion, but I like getting a little more experimental than the typical five. Y'know, cheetah, zebra, tiger, leopard, snake. I enjoy using the animals themselves as patterns. Like... flamingos, or turtles, or even elephants. Butterflies are my all-time favorites, though. Wait, do bugs count?"

He pounded his fist on the table so abruptly that she jumped. "S-Sorry! I just g-got excited. I, ummm... really l-like butterflies. Emerald Swallowtails are my favorite!"

"Swallow?" she cut in, nearly cursing herself for being lewd when he was so enthusiastic.

"No, swallows are birds, swallowtails are butterflies," he elaborated, missing the point.

"Ohhh, I see," she played dumb. "I think my favorite is called something like... purple mort..."

"Bleu! Purple mort bleu! Agh... I'd l-love to see one in person, b-but I'd have to go all the way to the americas."

"I grew up in the states, actually." They got their orders, and without even taking a second to hesitate, he forked his cake pop over to her. "Wait. You'd let me suck it?" She licked her lips mischievously.

"Y-You ordered it for y-yourself, didn't you? Besides, you don't suck a cake pop, you're s-supposed to bi—" Full-body shivers violently encapsulated him the moment he understood what she was playing at.

"Ah, sorry. Maybe that one was a little too far."

He took a series of deep breaths and willed himself to speak. "About what I was t-trying to say earlier... when I wound up just saying f-fuck and dropping it... let's... um... Okay. We've known each other for m-maybe twenty minutes now, and we've apologized a shit ton. It's gonna get b-bothersome if we don't s-stop. I want you to be able to be y-yourself. Authentic. I'll t-try to stop being so self-critical, too."

She tilted her nose up a smidge and gave him a careful once over. "Kay. I won't hold back. But you'd better tell me if I cross any boundaries. I wanna know about that kinda stuff. I doubt you'd like me stepping on you. I mean, stepping on your toes."

"Wh-What's with the phrasing?" She covered a smirk with her hand. He was so innocent, but in her experience, people who wound up that timid didn't usually live a carefree life. As much as she hated to admit it, she usually found people like that bores and hassles to deal with. This guy, though. He was... intriguing.

They chatted idly about athletic wear until he was slurping up air. Then he looked at the clock, wide-eyed. "Class!" He stood and burst out the door. She ran after him, but he was significantly faster than her.

"Dude, chill! You know Hope's Peak is, like, a three-minute walk from here!" To her dismay, he was too far to hear her, and he didn't look keen on stopping. Well. She supposed she'd see him around. Secretly, she hadn't given up on making him an outfit. But it would take time.

"Yo, Ume! Where'd you wind up going?"

"Shark Boy!" She gave him a genial fist-pump as a good morning. "Long story short, a silhouette study turned into me meeting someone... kinda fun."

"More fun than me?" he gave his typical toothy grin.

Her voice lulled into something more sultry, "Trust me... you're the most fun to play with."

"Ah, c'mon! We gotta get to class!"

And so she relayed the morning's incident to Kazuichi as they walked together. By now, Daichi had gotten so far away that he was out of sight. But, whether he would've wanted it this way or not, he was far from out of mind.