The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.

Fashion Disaster
Chapter 1

It was late (or early, depending on what sort of person you are) when Link stumbled into his apartment, barely awake enough to carefully put his pack of camera gear down on the floor, and more or less collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed and asleep in seconds.

Blissful oblivion only lasted for what seemed like a few minutes before he was rudely awoken by the unnecessarily loud ringing of his phone. Muscle memory had him reaching for the phone where it was supposed to be, on the nightstand, and he was very confused for a moment until he realised the loud music, and oddly pleasant buzzing, was coming from the pocket of his jeans.

He couldn't see who was calling, his vision too blurry with sleep. His mind running as fast as syrup, he managed to slide the phone icon to the right and answer the call, barely remembering to put the damn thing to his ear.

"H...Hello?" he managed to groan with a voice like gravel. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?" Nope, that was even worse. Now he sounded like gravel with bronchitis instead.

"Sorry about the early call," Zelda's voice spoke on the other end, sounding altogether insultingly chipper for the hour, which was surely an absurd one to be awake at, much less talking on the phone. To people. "I know you just got back from the hike."

"Hmm," Link grunted into the phone, trusting his sister to be able to understand his primal language.

"I need a favour."

Of course she did. Zelda never called unless she needed a favour. She usually stuck to texting or one of the billion messaging apps she kept forcing Link to install on his phone.

"Huh," Link grunted, hoping she'd understand his tone to mean No shit you need a favour, you sleep vampire! You never call me otherwise!

"Long story short: I double-booked myself. Again. I swear, it's like the moment I put something in my calendar I forget it's there, and then I say yes to something else without checking."

Thereby neutralising the whole point of having a calendar, Link wanted to say, but he knew it was futile. It was a discussion they'd had too many times to count and he wasn't willing to hash it out yet again. It never worked. Not permanently, anyway.

"Hah," he said. It turned into a yawn. He briefly lifted his phone away from his ear to look at the watch. 4:03 AM.

He'd barely been asleep for twenty minutes.

Zelda was lucky they were siblings, or this would've been grounds for the termination of their relationship.

"Anyway, I would, of course, honour my original agreement, but I only just realised I had it when I got on the plane."

Link gritted his teeth. Here it comes, he thought.

"You know that fashion show at the gallery today?"

Oh for...

"Today?" he asked, sounding like he should be keeping a crypt. Even Zelda heard the tone and hesitated.

"Yeeaaaaah," she said, really elongating the word. "Short notice, I know, but then I only just realised it myself, you know? And I wasn't able to call you until the plane landed. Which it has, and now I have called you. What would you have preferred, that I call later and give you less than an hour's notice?"

"Yes," he growled.

"Oh. Oops?"

"What's the job, Zel?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't need his eyes to get the details.

"The fashion show," Zelda said.

"That's the where. I need the what."

"Just...photograph the damn runway, okay? Wide angle and close shots! Some of the hottest new names are going to be showcasing their collections, and I've been commissioned by Modish to get photos of each."

Link considered saying no, leaving his sister to desperately go through her contact register and beg some of her freelance buddies to cover for her. Their fees would be huge, though, especially at such short notice. It'd serve her right. Maybe finally give her some incentive to keep proper track of her schedule.

Ah, to never have to answer one these phone calls again...

But then, Link had never been the type of person who could say no, especially not to family. Especially not to Zelda. The curse of a twin sister.

"Fine," he said. "But I want double my usual fee."

"No problem!" she said brightly.

Damn. He'd maybe sort of hoped that would discourage her. Clearly, he wasn't demanding enough compared to her friends. He made a note to ask Urbosa what she usually took for short-notice gigs like this. Probably hell of a lot more than what Link charged. She was highly sought after in conflict zones.

"And cupcakes."

"You got it!"

"And...and free reign of the TV when we're at dad's."

Zelda fell silent for a moment. "Link, you know I can't give you that. The remote fight is a sacred tradition. We can't just throw that away!"

Mostly because you always win, Link thought bitterly.

"Fine, but...can we at least watch something other than horror films?"

"You'll have to conquer the remote for that to happen."

"Eugh...fine, then get me a souvenir from wherever the hell you are."

"Absolutely! Was going to get you one anyway! So, we got a deal?"

Link considered it for a second. He could say no. He really could. Except he couldn't. He'd feel good about it for a few minutes, and then the guilt would start gnawing at him.

He groaned again. "Fine," he said. "When is it?"

"It starts at noon, so you should be good for at least a few more hours of sleep! I'll mail you the details. Also, remember to stop by my office—you'll need the badge."

"I know, I know," he said, yawning. "Is that all?"

"That's all," Zelda replied, sounding happy...and definitely a little relieved. "Thanks Link, I really appreciate it. I'll try to get better at my scheduling, I promise."

"You've said that before. How about hiring an assistant?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready for the responsibility of having an employee."

"You've had plenty of practice with me."

"Sibling employees don't count, and—hm, what? Oh, right. Sorry, Link, I gotta go, our cab's here. I'll mail you the details, okay? And don't forget the badge! Bye, love you!"

"Lov—"Link managed to say before the line went dead. He sighed and, after setting an alarm four hours later, went back to sleep, dreaming of setting fire to Zelda's office.

Sheik and his enemy stared into each other's eyes for a long, silent moment. The air was still, and in the silence one could hear the sound of a pin dropping. Sheik flexed his hands, saw the enemy do the same.

His opponent was larger, weight-wise, but Sheik had speed and flexibility on his side. It was all a matter of finding the right moment, and—

The enemy moved, rushing forwards. Sheik met him head-on. Large hands grasped at his clothes, but he twisted his upper body so they only gripped thin air. In the same movement, he hooked his foot around his opponent's heel and, with another twist, lifted them off their feet and slammed their back into the floor, their air leaving their lungs with a loud "Oof!"

Someone whistled, and Sheik stepped back, adjusting his gi, letting his red eyes roam the similarly clad students around them, sitting in a ring.

"It doesn't matter if your opponent is bigger than you," he said, pointing at the man still lying on the floor, panting. "You get your technique right, you'll have put 'em in the ground before they even realise you've got the upper hand."

"On the ground."

Sheik paused, letting his eyes land on one of the younger students. "Pardon?" he asked.

"On the ground, sensei," the kid said, looking more than a little terrified at correcting his teacher, but apparently so committed to this path now that he couldn't stop, like a runaway freight train. "You said 'put them in the ground'."

"I don't hear a difference," Sheik said after holding the kid's gaze for a long moment. "Anyway, like I said, it's all about technique." He stalked over to the college-aged guy he'd just annihilated and leaned down. "Come on, up you get. This is no time to be asleep."

"Just...catching...my breath, sensei," the student replied, eyes wide.

"Easier to do when standing, come on," Sheik said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. To his credit, the student only wobbled a little before gingerly seating himself at the edge of the circle. "Anyway, that was pretty cool, wasn't it?" he asked, to which his students nodded. "And it's just physics put into action. And that's I'm going to teach you: physics. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to any uppity bastard into knots with little to no effort."

He grinned, and then he remembered. The schpiel.

"Oh, right, and it's only for exhibition, yadda yadda, possibly self-defence but only if absolutely necessary, etcetera etcetera, yeah? Got it? Good!"

He clapped his hands together.

"All right, stand up and separate into pairs! We'll go over the basic movements and how to maintain balance, because without that you're not flipping anyone but yourself! First watch me and my stance, and then try to mimic it. Look at each other and see if you're doing it right. I'll be going around and correcting."

There was a collective intake of breath, and only a little terror in the air as his students did as they were told. Ah, there was his reputation at work again. Excellent.

"Right, you," he said to the closest student. She was about fifteen, a bit on the short side, and her partner was...quite a bit bigger. "You're standing wrong. If he comes at you and you're standing like that—you're toast!"

"Yes, sensei," she said nervously.

"Look at me," he said, assuming the standard opening position a few paces away. "You'll want your back heel planted firmly on the ground; your knees slightly bent. That'll let you correct yourself if the big bastard—no offense, kid—rushes you and tries to knock you down. Little does he realise that by the time you're within arm's reach, and you're standing like this, he's a dead man walking. Figuratively speaking—we're not learning this to kill each other, after all, haha!"

"Haha!" she responded obediently, clearly not sure of what else to do. She did, however, correct her stance, and got it mostly right.

Sheik helped her fix the angle of her heel, and then had her partner (her older brother, as it turned out) try to push her off balance. It mostly worked, though he overpowered her in the end, but it only failed because Sheik hadn't shown her how to divert the opponent's momentum correctly.

Ah, but he had lots of time to mould this girl into a perfect little kill—er, judo machine.

And so the introductory lesson continued. By the end of it, he was fairly confident most of the students would be coming back. Especially the fifteen-year-old girl. She'd gotten a taste for blood, he could tell. He looked forwarding to teaching her how to kick so much ass.

He was in the small reception area of his dojo, saying goodbye to the newcomers and, begrudgingly, humouring parents about their kids' prowess when Sheik spotted him.

He tried to be stealthy, but there was no mistaking that flash of purple hair. Sheik knew only one person who'd deliberately choose that shade, and he had no desire to talk to him right now.

He hurriedly ended the conversation he was having with a quick "See you next week, we'll keep developing your footwork!", and went for the glass doors leading into the dojo. If he could get inside and lock the doors, he could head out through the back, hopefully avoiding—

"Hi cousin!"

Fuck, too late!

"Kafei," he said, plastering on a fake smile and turning around to face what could be described as the bane of his existence. "Long time no see."

Kafei, his elder cousin by three years, had a big, genuine smile on his face, looking positively ecstatic to see him, not even hesitating to reach out and pull Sheik into a tight hug.

Sheik had to fight every instinct in him not to throw Kafei to the floor.

Knowing Kafei, he'd easily counter. They'd both been taught the art since they were old enough to walk, but only Sheik had gone into teaching himself.

Kafei, on the other hand, had chosen a different path. One that, somehow, kept coming back to haunt Sheik. He had a feeling it was about to do so again.

"So good to see you again, Sheiky," Kafei said when they separated, first studying Sheik in his gi, and then the dojo. "You look good, and so does your place! Aunt Impa checked it out yet?" He stepped inside the dojo, carefully removing his shoes and leaving them outside in the reception area.

"Not yet," Sheik said, following him inside after making sure the reception had been cleared of students and their parents. He noted the lack of a certain person who usually shadowed the purple-haired harbinger of doom. "Where's Paya?"

"At home," Kafei said, taking a stroll around the dojo, looking at the wall scrolls and other decorations. "It's her day off."

"I see."

That was disappointing. It had been a while since Sheik had seen his other cousin, and...well, truth be told, he'd hoped to show her his dojo and maybe have a little sparring match, like when they were growing up. She'd been just as enthusiastic as Sheik, but hadn't gone into teaching, but security.

"Anyway," Kafei said, turning around and clapping his hands once. "I've got a favour to ask!"

There it was. Of course he did. It just wasn't a Kafei visit without him ruining Sheik's day somehow.

"Yeah?" he asked, folding his arms sceptically and giving Kafei his least impressed stare. "What?"

"You know, my business is really picking up steam these days," Kafei said, playing with the cuffs of his dark purple suit jacket. His whole suit was purple, matching his hair. Sheik was surprised at how subtly he was dressed tonight, in fact. "Getting all kinds of show offers."

"So I've heard," Sheik said, his gut suddenly feeling like it was teetering on the edge of a cliff, below which there was only oblivion...or perhaps just a series of sharp rocks. Either way, falling would be unpleasant. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Kafei said, grinning. "And this upcoming show is the biggest yet! All the big designer houses are sending representatives there to scout for talent!"

"Exciting," Sheik said, nodding. "Your big chance, I'm guessing?"

"You know it!" Kafei looked like he was about to start vibrating with excitement. Sheik felt his stomach moving just a little further over the edge, practically hanging off the side now. This couldn't be good. "And, as it happens, disaster has struck! Kiro, my main model, is sick with the flu, and I need someone to cover for him!"

Oh.

Oh no.

"No," Sheik said. "Forget it."

Kafei's face fell, his lips turning down in an exaggerated pout. "But...but cousin! I need your help! I don't have anyone else to turn to!"

"You're a fashion designer," Sheik said sharply. "Surely you have an entire stall full of models who can take his spot?"

"No one with Kiro's measurements," Kafei said, and Sheik could tell when his cousin was using his mental measuring tape to evaluate someone. He felt naked under that gaze, and he hated it.

Mostly because Kafei was disturbingly accurate when measuring by eye.

"I'm not doing it," Sheik said pre-emptively. "I have a business to run!"

"Oh? You do lessons on Saturdays?" Kafei asked, gesturing to the reception. "Your website says you only do weekdays."

"It's...a special lesson," Sheik tried, but he knew it was futile. Of course Kafei had done his research before coming. "Fine, there's no lesson, but I have a date!"

"Oh?" Kafei said, suddenly looking very interested as he skulked (literally skulked) up to Sheik, giving him a look that could best be described as sleazy. "How exciting—what's his name? Where did you meet? What does he do for a living? How long have you been going out? Have you done it yet? Have you told Impa?"

"What, about doing it or dating someone?" Sheik asked, ignoring the bright red blush that had erupted on his face at Kafei's mention of it. Twenty-two years old, and he was still unable to talk about sex openly.

"Dating someone," Kafei said, rolling his eyes. "I sincerely hope you're not regaling Aunt Impa with tales of your sordid sexual history, cuz."

Of course, Sheik didn't have a date either. It had been an emergency attempt at deflecting Kafei's recruiting efforts, but...his damned cousin had always been able to figure out when Sheik was lying.

It didn't help that Sheik was a terrible liar in general. He couldn't help it. Stealth and subterfuge weren't his forte—he preferred beating the living shit out of whatever problem came his way.

"O-Of course not!" he sputtered. "That's disgusting!"

Kafei laughed. "Of course it is!" He then fixed Sheik with another analysing gaze. "You're still single, aren't you?" he asked. "There's no date."

Sheik glared back at him. "Fuck you," he hissed.

Kafei laughed again. "Knew it! Come on, if you're not busy Saturday, why don't be you be my model?"

"Because I don't want to!"

"Fine, fine," Kafei said, sighing theatrically. "I suppose I shall simply have to do the show without my centrepiece, the creation I have put all of my heart and soul into for the last six months. I suppose I shan't be picked up by one of the big houses, my business forced to languish in semi-obscurity for the rest of my career...or even worse, go destitute!" He kept his eyes on Sheik the entire time he spoke.

Sheik held his gaze for a moment after the schpiel. "No."

Kafei harrumphed and dug around in his jacket's pocket for his phone.

"Okay, fine! I guess I'll have to make some calls..." He paused, eyes widening a little...and then he smiled like the cat that caught the canary. "Say...how about a bet?"

Sheik shook his head. "Forget it."

"Oh, come on!" Kafei exclaimed. "A quick spar! You and me! Just like the old days! If I win, you'll be my model!"

Predictable. Sheik dug himself in. "No way—there's nothing I want from you, so..."

"I'll let you throw me around in front of your students for a month!"

Sheik paused. Now there was a tempting offer. Throwing Kafei around had always been great fun when they were kids...and, honestly, how good would Kafei even be these days, busy as he was with his career. Probably hadn't practised in years. And the idea of using his cousin as target practice and kicking his ass up and down the mat in front of his students for a month...oh, that'd be so good.

And hell, Kafei probably still knew the basics, so Sheik could probably wrangle some assist lessons out of him, too.

Hm.

Yeah.

This was risky, but the reward...

"Fine," he said, gesturing to the ring at the centre of the dojo. "But we do it right here, right now."

"My thoughts exactly," Kafei said, excitedly shedding his jacket. His shirt was purple, too. And his tie. Because of course they were. He rolled up his sleeves and took off his socks.

Sheik raised an eyebrow. "You can borrow a gi, if you—"

"No, no, don't worry," Kafei said, doing a couple of squats, checking the give in his trousers. "Pant are a little tight, but I can work with this."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," Kafei said, giving him a thumbs-up.

"All right, then..."

They faced each other from opposite sides of the ring. Sheik tightened his black belt and assumed his favourite stance, which Kafei mirrored. They'd both been taught by the same teachers, and they'd always had similar styles.

"So, how're we doing this?" Kafei asked, his face serious. "First pin?"

"Sounds good to me," Sheik said, not expecting this to take very long. "Unless you want to do two out of three?"

"Nah, that'll take forever," his cousin said. "First pin it is."

"Good."

They watched each other for a long moment. Then they began circling each other, studying their opponent's movements. Kafei wasn't moving as smoothly as he did in their teenage years, and it wasn't just the lack of give in his pants that were hampering him. Sheik fought down the urge to grin. The idiot hadn't practiced or trained at all.

This would be an easy win.

Even an opportunity to show off a little. Prove to his cousin that he'd surpassed him after so many years.

He lunged, which prompted Kafei to respond. Their hands met mid-air, trying to grasp each other's wrists. Kafei's fingers nearly grasped Sheik's, but he jerked out of the way just in time so all his cousin caught was the sleeve of his gi.

Sheik, on the other hand, managed to grab Kafei's wrist, and immediately used that to his advantage, pulling and pushing at Kafei to bring him off-balance. To his credit, Kafei's footwork was still quite good, managing to keep himself steady and not about to stumble unless Sheik did something else.

Kafei grunted, momentarily losing his footing when Sheik tugged as hard as he could, using all of his weight, but he regained it quickly. "Good one," he said, leg suddenly sweeping behind Sheik's in an attempt to take him down. Painfully obvious, and Sheik sidestepped it easily.

"That wasn't," he said, giving Kafei his most obnoxious grin. "Dulled over the years, have we?"

"Evidently," Kafei grunted, looking annoyed. Then he suddenly pushed at Sheik with all his strength, actually forcing Sheik on the back foot.

And then Kafei's hands locked around Sheik's wrists.

Shit.

They pushed and pulled for a moment, neither of them gaining any ground, trying to sweep and hook each other's legs out from underneath each other, but neither got a proper move in.

And then Kafei decided to stop pretending.

Sheik saw the switch in his eyes, and instantly realised he was in trouble. He tried to disengage, but his cousin's grip on him was like iron. For a moment, it was like they were back in the ring as teenagers. Kafei grinned at him, and then the world was tilting and whirling around him.

Sheik's back slammed into the mat, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Huh, there were a lot of cracks in the ceiling of his dojo.

Wait, what?

"I do...believe that's...my win," Kafei said, panting as his sweaty, smug face appeared above Sheik. "My model!"

Sheik stared at him, trying to fill his lungs with air, and the realisation dawned upon him. "Oh, fuck me," he muttered, covering his face with his hands. "You played me!"

"Like a damn fiddle," Kafei said unapologetically. "Come on, you thought I was that rusty? You don't think Paya tosses me around the ring every other day to keep me sharp?"

Oh, for...

Sheik suddenly felt like crying.

"Aw, come on, cuz," Kafei said, patting Sheik's hand. "You can't blame me for deciding to rig things in my favour a little, right? I'm a desperate man! But say, I'll add in a little bonus in addition to your modelling fee, okay? You know those cartoons you like so much?"

Sheik drew in a breath. He did not sniffle.

"They're called anime," he hissed.

"Cartoons, anime, whatever!" Kafei exclaimed. "Get me a character sheet, and I'll make you a replica outfit, yeah? You can wear it to one of those conventions! I'll guarantee that you'll have the most accurate costume there!"

Okay.

That made him feel...a little better.

"I want snacks," he added. "Lots of them."

"You got 'em. After the show, of course. Can't have you bulging anywhere."

"I hate you. So much."

"Love you too, cuz."