A/N: My piece for the Enoshima Insider fanzine!

Since the zine focused on fashion, I decided I wanted to take a peek at what it's actually like to live as a famous model. I even included some tips from real life fashionistas! ...Of course, it's still Junko we're talking about, and perhaps some parts of her life philosophy are better left unseen.

Taking inventory of her munitions was one of Mukuro's daily routines. Up in her room, where she also kept her loads of weapons and ammunition, she passed the time inspecting her collection. Right now she held a grenade close, running her finger along the pin, slowly checking it for any defects. It was peaceful. Relaxing.

At least until her sister roughly kicked the door in.

If Mukuro were any less composed, she would've jolted, pulled the pin, and they'd have had a very messy situation on their hands. Thankfully she was unflappable (and also used to these rough intrusions), so she instead gently put the explosive down to address her sister. "What do you need, Junko?"

"Just a little help with a personal project of mine… and sadly you're the only option available." Junko pulled out some sort of strange looking baton, waving it back and forth. "Do you know what this is?"

"…No, not really."

"Ugh." In the blink of an eye, Junko whipped out her cell phone and popped it on the end of the rod. "How about now?"

Mukuro squinted. "Uh… some kind of tripod?"

Junko pressed her fingers to her forehead and sighed melodramatically. "You're such a lost cause. It's a selfie stick – or more accurately, it's a special treat for my oodles of fans! I decided, in my infinite generosity, to record a day in the life of the Ultimate Fashionista. Inquiring minds will finally get a glimpse at what it's like to be moi!"

She pointed the rod at Mukuro and extended it until it bopped her in the chest. "And you're going to edit it for me."

The soldier stared down at the tool and, finally, hesitantly plucked the phone off the end. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Do I ever have bad ideas?"

"I just don't think editing's in my area of expertise..." Mukuro tried to explain.

"Then make it be, duh," Junko replied dismissively. "It's not like you have anything better to do with your time!"

Mukuro shot a side glance at her personal armory. "…I guess so."

Seemingly satisfied, Junko turned on her heel and strutted out the door. "See, you get it! I'll be back to see your progress in a couple hours. Tata!"

Once alone, Mukuro just shook her head and left her task to go sit at her computer. Plugging Junko's phone in, she navigated to the most recent video file and opened it. A new window spread out on her screen, just begging to be played.

"Well, let's see what we have to work with."

The buffering symbol continuously swirled until finally the darkness split and the video played.

The footage began with a view of Junko herself rising up from bed, her normally massive pigtails let loose to flow down her back in a waterfall of hair. She stretched and, without even looking, swept the camera off its stand to hold up to her face.

"Surprised to see me?" she asked, holding up a peace sign to the lens. "Or just surprised to see me like this? Come on... even models need their beauty sleep." She shook out her mane before addressing the camera. "Listen. Here's the deal."

"You've all been such a good little fanbase... good enough to earn a little treat. So I decided I'd show you all just how much I appreciate you with an exclusive look at a day in the life of me. From sun-up to sundown, I'll be showing you juuuust what it's like to be the model of models. Starting... with... breakfast."

She swiveled, the view shifting as she pulled her legs off the bed… and hit the ground running, the camera bobbing as she jogged through her house.

"Exercising, too! You don't get this kind of bod without a proper regiment, you know? Swimming, jumprope, kickboxing... models have a honed routine to keep us looking great. I'll show you more later, but personally, I like to start early. I guess that's what makes me the best of the best, riiiight?"

The scene shifted to her kitchen, a tiled room with an island of counters in the middle. "You've got to eat like a model, too," she explained as she retrieved some eggs and apples from the fridge. "No Mickey D's, fellas... just nutrient-dense homemade meals. There's still so much yummy food you can eat and still keep a slim figure!"

After breakfast, it was time for the main event of the morning. Returning to her bedroom, Junko headed to a set of slated double doors and threw them open…

...Into a fashionista's heaven.

Inside were rows upon rows of outfits and coat racks that went up to the ceiling. An endless medley of skirts and shirts, dresses and shoes, underwear and anything else that'd make a cosplayer drool. At the end of it all sat a little area like a personal changing room, with a ring of mirrors to let the user view themselves from every possible angle.

"Welcome... to paradise."

Junko walked amidst the aisles like an icon parting the sea of style, humming to herself. "What did you expect from the Ultimate Fashionista? I've got custom tailored outfits from all the top lines... and even some custom made pieces. No one knows style better than myself, no?"

Barely even looking, her hands became a blur as they snatched at seemingly random items amidst the coathangers. Once they were all assembled she had a perfect ensemble of white blouse over long black slanted skirt, high heels with stockings, and even a little black beret to go with it all. "Voila. Just one of my many masterpieces."

Feigning shyness, she pursed her lips and held the outfit over herself. "Now I just need to get dressed, and then it's off to start the day. Soooorrrrry, no peeking! I don't appreciate you guys THAT much." With a cheeky smirk, she winked at the camera before it went dark.

When the camera turned back on , Junko was all dressed and in the back of her limo. She scoffed at the screen. "I know I promised a look at my day, but you're some kind of loser if you want to see my commute here."

"Besides... the real action is over there." She stepped out of the car and turned the phone towards a glamorous building towering above. Even the architecture was fashionable. "I've got a shoot today, and you all get front row seats! In fact, I think I can sneak a teensy weensy favor out of the camera crew..."

There was a second video to click after that, and so Mukuro did. Like something from television, Junko suited up in a medley of exquisite dresses and took to the stage while cameras flashed again and again. She posed, emitting a unique energy to each of her movements that made it clear she was the star of the show whether other models were there or not. When she walked down the runway, it was hers and hers alone.

And just like that, the glamour was over.

The camera cut back to the first video. A rough jump to the parking lot showed Junko casually strutting away from the building, the camera angled from the side. "Another busy day..." she sighed, running a hand through her hair... and lowering her fingers down to her purse. "It's good to let your hair down after working hard, ya know?"

As she passed by a row of cars, a flash of steel whipped from her hand. She crouched and stabbed a switchblade into someone's front tire without even glancing its way.

As if nothing happened, she folded it back up and put it away, a hum on her lips and a smile on her face as she moved on. A moment later, a frustrated cry rang out from behind her as she giggled and flashed a peace sign. "Now we can have some real fun."

The next cut landed them in a fancy restaurant with their hostess once again filling up the screen. "When you make it like me, you always dine in style. But even when you're not making the food yourself, you still need to be veeeery picky to make sure it adheres to the model diet."

Slowly, a sinister sneer suddenly spread across her cheeks. "Veeeeery picky."

A few dishes returned to the kitchen later and her waitress was at her wit's end. Despite it all, she kept her composure... which made it all the more satisfying when Junko put on her most hurt tone.

"Excuse me?" she said, louder than necessary. "What gives you the right to say something like that?!"

The waitress just looked at her, open-mouthed. "What? I didn't..."

"Well if that's how you treat your guests, I can find dozens of other places that treat their customers right."

By then, the head waiter had noticed the commotion and come to check it out. Before the server could defend herself, he butted himself in between the two ladies. "My sincerest apologies, Miss Enoshima. We'll have her replaced before you know it, with someone with more decorum."

Aghast, the waitress could only watch as Junko winked at her behind her boss' back.

The footage skipped again. The final bit started out simply - Junko walking down the street, passing by a few folks down on their luck. When they looked up at her, their eyes pleading, she didn't even glance in their direction.

However, when she passed them, she made sure to pull a big stack of bills out of her purse and drop them behind her.

As she kept walking, the people noticed and were quickly vying to grab the cash before the others could. Pushing turned into shoving which turned into outright violence and shouting as each fought for an easy ticket to improving their lives.

While they brawled, Junko laughed into the screen, angling it towards the scuffle. "Giving money for despair… hmmmm… you know, that's not a bad idea for a little project I'm working on…"

Mukuro watched with muted surprise as the tape went on, growing worse and worse. Not surprised at the content – she knew how her sister worked, and even assisted sometimes. No, it was surprising that Junko thought that she could present this to the public.

She shut it off around the time it just devolved into explosions and screams of terror. For a good while, Mukuro rested her cheek in her hand, trying to mentally cut and spin what she'd seen into something palatable. Even if she were the Ultimate Editor, she didn't think there was much hope for anyone approving this shocking new look at their idol.

Fortunately, the door opening a little more normally finally rescued her from thinking. "Sooooo?" Junko hummed from the doorway. "Any big plans for it yet? Or are you lazier than you look?"

Mukuro shook her head on both counts. "I think it might be better to just scrap this. The first part isn't bad, but the rest… I don't think this is salvageable even with editing, Junko."

"Whaaaaat?" Junko put her hands on her hips. " Come on, it can't be THAT bad. Do you know how many fans we're letting down if you can't handle it?" Though from the twinkle in her eye, the idea of disappointing her audience had a certain charm.

Knowing that, Mukuro pulled Junko's phone from its jack and shrugged. "Then let them be sad. A little despair they can deal with, but a public relations disaster less so."

Junko took back her phone and sighed, hovering her thumb over the little trash can icon by the file. "All that work for nothing… sigh. All because my smelly sister isn't willing to put in the effort." And yet, from the plainness of her tone, it sounded like she'd already expected this outcome. Junko sneered wickedly and pulled her thumb back. "How awful. Guess I'll just have to keep it all to myself~…"