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 3

The show was well underway now, and Link was pretty sure he wouldn't have made it through without Saria there to keep his spirits up with running commentary on some of the, frankly, insane creations that were being displayed.

"...and here we have a girl wearing what appears to be a pile of lampshades stitched together into...well, a pile of lampshades," Saria said, sounding like a sports commentator as she took several shots of the model strutting down the catwalk, looking none-too-amused by what she was forced to wear.

Then again, to Link, all models seemed to be perpetually pissed off. Given the things they had to wear in public, he didn't really blame them. He dutifully raised his camera took several bursts along with a carefully angled and focused ones when the model reached the end of the catwalk, posing in a way that must have been supremely uncomfortable with the lampshade frame digging into her skin.

"I wonder if they bought all those lampshades new or if they got people to donate their used ones," Saria said as the girl disappeared backstage.

"Probably donated," Link said. "None of those shades looked new."

"Hah, true. Maybe—snrk, oh my god."

Her face screwed up into a delightful grin as a young man walked onto the stage...wearing what Link could only assume was a blanket that had been sewn into a dress. And not a thin blanket, either. One of those winter blankets meant to absorb and retain as much as physically possible. It looked supremely uncomfortable, and Link couldn't even begin to imagine how sweltering the poor model was underneath it. He could only lift his camera and take more photos of the horror.

"Look at that thing," Saria said, suppressing her giggling. "Must trap farts like a champ."

Link snorted.

"Seriously, I bet it just collects in a gas pocket, and unleashes it all in one go when it reaches critical pressure and saturation, killing everyone unfortunate to be in the same room when it happens."

Link couldn't suppress his laugh at that, and neither could Saria as they broke down into giggles, earning themselves ugly looks from the people around them (and the model, who glared down at them).

"S-Sorry," Saria said, waving. "Go about your business."

The model looked supremely offended, but remained professional and did his job, giving a surprisingly elegant twirl and turning back towards the curtain area.

It was getting hot in here, between the stage lights and the big crowd stuffed into a small place, and Link was forced to unzip his hoodie lest he wanted to pass out from the heat. Next to him, Saria snickered.

"What?" he asked.

"Nice T-shirt," she said, pointing at his graphic tee. "Didn't think I'd ever see one of those in the wild."

"What's wrong with it?" Link said, looking down at the stylised print of three wolves howling at the moon. "I think it's great!"

Saria gave him a look that bordered on pitying. "Oh, Link," she said, "never change."

"Wasn't planning on it?" he said, confused.

She laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Next up is a brief peek into Zora Sportswear's upcoming collection!" the announcer said unnecessarily enthusiastically. "Let's see what we can look forward to strutting about in on the beaches this summer!"

The atmosphere in the room changed a little, and more cameras were brandished (especially among the onlookers). Of course, that was to be expected. Swimwear and the like were bound to draw more attention than couch cushions sewn into an outfit. Especially on models who tended to look like athletes.

"Right, time for the hot stuff," Saria said with the same enthusiasm reserved for things like root canals. "Mido definitely wanted pics of this, in case of accidental exposure and stuff. He's such a creep sometimes."

"That's Mido," Link agreed, adding a bookmark to the camera's file system so he could keep the designers and brands separated. "Why are we friends with him, again?"

"Me, he pays," Saria said. "I don't know why you bother, though. You haven't done a job for him in ages. You know, you're not obliged to keep his contact information or respond to his social media posts."

Link didn't have a good answer to that. Luckily, the conversation ended as the lights grew a little brighter, and the Zora Sportswear models appeared on stage. Young men and women in excellent shape walking back and forth, wearing very little. Unlike most of the other designs Link had seen today, Zora Sportswear didn't bother with experiments or daring. They just showed off what they intended to sell that season.

Bikinis were definitely their main focus, it seemed, along with skimpy trunks for men. More like short shorts, if you asked Link. Not that he minded—at least these outfits made sense. He snapped several shots, making sure to get the models at the best angles and lighting, showing off their beautiful physiques. Too bad about their facial expressions, though. Still the same old sourpusses.

"I still don't understand why they're not allowed to smile," he said. "Surely a happy-looking model is a more convincing sales argument than one that looks like you've pissed in their cereal."

"Most people like being considered dirt by beautiful people, I guess," Saria replied, shrugging. "I don't get it either. I mean, look at that girl—her scowl is completely at odds with the happy coral print of that skirt. Imagine her smiling or at least pretending to be happy she's at the beach!"

"Yeah," Link agreed. "That'd be an improvement."

"And as a special treat, Zora's lead designer, Mipha, has decided to give us a tiny little peek into her new fall collection, which is inspired by the royal houses of old," the announcer's voice sounded over the speakers.

"Oh, great," Saria said, rolling her eyes. "Royalist drivel. Like we need more of that."

"Just inspired by," Link pointed out. "I don't think it's meant to be a statement of longing."

Saria made to say something else, but she caught a glimpse of the next model, her jaw dropping.

"Link..." was all she could say, and Link followed her gaze...

...and saw what was very likely the most beautiful man in the world. Tall, athletic, and a face that looked like it had been chiselled out of marble, and a grin so bright it outshone the floodlights of the stage. His hair was long and dark red, gathered into a loose ponytail that reached the middle of his back, where it blended perfectly in with the fabric of his jacket, which was the exact same shade.

His outfit appeared to be inspired by old military-style royal uniforms, though with entirely different colours, with silver-coloured details. It fit the model perfectly and showed off every curve of his athletic build like it was just a second layer of skin...or, like Link's brain suggested, that he wasn't wearing anything at all.

The model stopped at the end of the runway, posing heroically, still grinning like he was the damned sun, his beautiful golden eyes roaming the room like he intended to give every single person there a personal moment. He then raised his fist, shaking it, and then giving everyone a thumbs-up, like he was telling everyone he believed in them. His grin brightened even more, if such a thing was even possible, light glinting off them in a blinding display.

Around him, Link realised the room had gone completely silent save for the obnoxious music...and the clicking of hundreds of cameras as they all drank in this beautiful god of a model.

"Link, you may want to take some pictures of this one," Saria whispered.

Fuck! He'd been so entranced by the Zora model he'd forgotten his job entirely. Link hurriedly raised his camera and put it in burst mode, hoping to get as many pictures as possible.

The model seemed to have noticed his delayed picture-taking, and gave another pose, looking at Link the entire time with a huge smile.

Like it was just for him.

Then he gave a little twirl, and disappeared from the stage, leaving Link gaping like a fish.

The tense atmosphere of the room lifted considerably after that, and Link had a feeling there were quite a few spectators who'd likely need a quick trip to the restroom right about now.

"Phew," Saria said, looking through the pictures she'd just taken on her camera's screen. "You know, maybe having a royal family wouldn't be so bad if it meant we got to have someone like him as a prince."

"Yeah," Link said, still trying to recover from having seen what he was quite sure was an avatar of the gods walking among mortals. He made a mental note to get the model's name and to see if he had a fan club.

...maybe he liked to go hiking?

"...and step...and glower...and turn...and walk back. Steady pace." Sheik muttered to himself as he watched a recording of Kiro, the model he was replacing for the day, on his phone. In the video, Kiro strutted his way along an imaginary catwalk in what seemed to be some sort of practice room. There was no sound, and even if there was Sheik wouldn't have heard it over the loud music and excited crowd on the other side of the curtains.

Kafei had insisted that he at least try to emulate how Kiro had been practicing, since Sheik had never actually modelled before, and should have some semblance of a routine to go through one the catwalk.

So here he was, waiting for his turn while the Zora models strutted about in swimwear, his scandalous outfit thankfully covered up with a huge bathrobe (also viscose, apparently) that hid all the details from view. He didn't like the silky feel of the robe. He didn't. He could not. He highly doubted he'd have the nerve to stand around in plain view of the other models who, despite wearing less than he did, didn't look nearly as perverted.

A few of Kafei's other models were gathered in a huddle nearby, none-too-subtly looking and pointing at the various outfits and the people wearing them, as well as at the red-haired woman directing the Zora models. Apparently, that was Mipha, the chief designer for the brand.

Sheik didn't care. He was about to make an idiot of himself in front of a few hundred spectators and fuck knew how many cameras, he needed to steel himself.

He did notice that someone extremely tall walked past him, however, and a flash of red as they went out onto the catwalk after being announced as something special...he thought. He really wasn't paying attention, focusing once more on Kiro's routine. No problem, honestly. He just had to get that sour expression right. No fucking problem, he thought, screwing up his face, pretending he'd just caught a whiff of Kafei's gym bag during their teenage years.

Man, years later and he could still smell it. It was like the scent had been imprinted on his mind's nose.

"What're you watching?"

He didn't jump.

He didn't.

He nearly dropped his phone, sure, but that was for entirely different reasons. A lack of potassium, or something, momentarily causing him to lose his grip on the phone. That's what happens when he's not allowed to eat anything the day before the show.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the interrupter said. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

"It's fine, it's fine," Sheik said, embarrassed about his sudden lack of martial arts instincts that should have told him someone was sneaking up on him. "I was just watching a routine and...and..."

As he looked up...and up...and up at the speaker, he realised he was in the presence of a god. There was no other description of the huge, red-headed model smiling down at him with a mouth full of shiny, white teeth. He was dressed in a red military-like uniform that matched his hair, and a lot of silver accessories that, on anyone else, would've looked gaudy.

On him, though, it was...princely.

Fuck, it should be illegal to be this good-looking.

"Oh, I think I know him," the redhead said. "Hiro...or something, right?"

"Kiro," Sheik corrected him.

"Yeah, that's it!" Redhead looked around. "I was actually expecting to see him today, but..."

"He's sick," Sheik said. "I'm filling in for him today."

"Oh, so you work for Shinobi too?" He held out his hand, shaking Sheik's very energetically. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sidon!"

"Sh-Sheik," he said, managing to stumble elegantly over his own name like a fucking idiot. This was clearly not his day. He cleared his throat. "I'm just filling in today, I don't usually model."

"Oh, I see!" Sidon said, like it was the most exciting thing he'd ever heard. "Well, they certainly picked a good substitute!"

Was that a compliment? Sheik wasn't sure, and he was hesitant to take anything models said at face value, even from someone like Sidon.

"Uh...thank you?"

"You're welcome!" Sidon nodded. "So, if you don't model full-time, what do you do, exactly?"

"Oh, I'm a judo instructor," Sheik said.

Sidon's golden eyes widened. "No way! Really?!"

Sheik couldn't help but laugh a little. His reaction was just so...genuine. "Yeah," he said. "Got my own dojo and everything."

"How exciting! What rank are you?"

Huh.

That was the first time someone (who wasn't into judo themselves) had asked him that. How unusual.

And refreshing.

"Oh, uh, second degree black belt," he said.

"That is so cool!" Sidon exclaimed. "I wouldn't have guessed! Doesn't it take years of training to reach that rank?"

"Depends on how fast you progress, really," Sheik said, suddenly feeling very out of his depth. No one usually wanted to talk about this other than his students, or possibly their parents. "I've been taught since I was a toddler, so..."

"Fascinating," Sidon said, and it actually didn't sound sarcastic, which is pretty difficult to pull off with a word like fascinating, which attracts sarcasm like a moth to a flame. "So how did you end up substituting for a model?"

Sheik nodded towards the sound setup, where Kafei was talking to someone he assumed was the showrunner.

"My cousin is the lead designer and CEO of Shinobi. He asked me for a favour, and I couldn't say no."

He didn't mention he'd tried, and gotten his ass beaten in his own dojo for it.

"What a coincidence!" Sidon said, pointing to the red-haired woman from Zora. "Mipha, the lead designer for Zora, is my older sister! I model for her part-time!"

Mipha must have noticed she was being stared at, looking up from her phone and waving to Sidon and, after a moment, fixing Sheik with the deadliest glare he'd ever received. Oh, there was pure hatred in that gaze. Amazing, how much loathing could be contained in such a small body. Sheik didn't like his chances if he were to face Sidon's sister in the ring, regardless of how little experience she might have in fighting. He'd be a dead man.

"Oh, so...you're not a full-time model either?" Sheik asked, relief filling him instantly once he looked away from the black hole that was Mipha, and into Sidon's eyes instead. Fuck, they were gorgeous.

"Nah, I'm just doing this to pay my way through college," Sidon said proudly. "I'm studying marine biology!"

Fuck, now that was cool. Way cooler than what Sheik had studied (business management). But wait...if Sidon was in college...

"That's very impressive," he said. "But um...do you mind if I ask...how old are you?"

"Nineteen!" Sidon replied.

Oh, thank Din, Sheik thought.

"So you're a sophomore, then?" he said hurriedly, so his question wouldn't sound so suspicious.

It had, hadn't it?

"That's right," Sidon confirmed. "And yourself? If you don't mind my asking, of course. Models can be a little touchy about that question..."

"I don't mind," Sheik said, happy that Sidon hadn't gotten caught up on why he'd asked. "I'm twenty-two."

"We're quite close, then!" Sidon said, looking excited. "Say, would you be—"

"Sidon!" Mipha called from across the room. "Dressing room! We need to get you out of that suit!"

Sheik didn't need to look at her to know Mipha was giving him another death glare. Overprotective was an understatement.

"Ah, duty calls," Sidon said, shaking his head and turning away, to Sheik's immense disappointment. "By the way," the model slash marine biologist added before going, "there's a very cute Hylian photographer near the end of the catwalk, next to a green-haired girl. If you give him a little extra attention, I'm sure you can make him faint. It was very nice to meet you, Sheik. I hope we can talk again later. Maybe at the after-party?"

"Y-Yeah, sure," Sheik said, staring at Sidon's retreating back until he disappeared into the admin area. Oh, if he could be a fly on the wall as he was peeled out of that outfit...

"Yoo-hoo, earth to Sheik," Kafei's obnoxious voice spoke as a hand was waved inches away from his face. "You in there? We're up in a few minutes. You ready?"

Sheik shook his head, stomach lurching as he realised what was about to happen: the most humiliating moment of his life.

Eugh.

Well, if he was about to embarrass himself, he might as well do it with style. If he was going out there in a pleather schoolgirl outfit, he was damn well going to pull it off like a fucking queen.

"As ready as I will be, I guess," Sheik said, glaring at his cousin. "So, I'm last?"

"Yeah, you're the main attraction," Kafei said with a wink.

Paya was there too, carefully taking Sheik's phone and putting it into her pocket for safekeeping. "I'll take care of this while you're gone," she said.

"Remember," Kafei interrupted, "twirl at the end of the catwalk. I hand-stitched those panties myself, and I want to show off my work."

Sheik suddenly felt the urge to vomit.

Link returned to his seat beside Saria, handing her a bottle of water, all the while chugging down his own. The heat had gotten unbearable, and that last Zora model hadn't made things cooler by staring at him like that. If he hadn't known better, Link would've assumed it had been an attempt at flirting.

"Thanks," Saria said, drinking some water as well. "I'll never get used to the heat at these places. I mean, the woods can get pretty hot too, but at least you can count on the wind to cool you down a bit..."

"Mmm," Link hummed in agreement, screwing the cork back on. "Who's next?" he said, looking at the schedule Zelda had sent him.

"Minor brand," Saria said. "Shinobi Designs. Based on Sheikah culture, apparently. Kinda ninja-inspired stuff, I think? Lots of black fabric."

"Well, ninjas are cool," Link said, adding another bookmark to his camera's album. "And maybe we'll see something practical from them."

Saria snorted. "Tall order, Link. Tall order indeed. Though I guess if we can get people to walk around dressed like ninjas, we as a society are heading in the right direction."

"If only," Link said with a sigh. Personally, he'd stick with jeans and T-shirts if he could, but he supposed a casual ninja outfit would be nice too.

The lights brightened again, and a music track that incorporated a mix of modern rock with traditional instruments like shamisen began to play.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a rising star on the fashion horizon has graced us with his presence today!" the announcer said. "Lead designer of Shinobi Designs, Kafei, is here to show us that we can all be deadly shadows in our day-to-day lives!"

"Do they write those blurbs themselves, or is it up the announcer to improvise?" Link asked with a huff.

"A little bit of both, I think."

And true enough, Saria's prediction came true. Shinobi designs only employed Sheikah models, apparently, and Link had to admit they all looked striking, with their vivid red eyes, dark skin, and silver hair as they strode along the catwalk dressed in 21st century ninja wear.

There was a lot of fishnet, on both the male and female models, which Link had nothing against whatsoever. A lot of the outfits involved hiding the lower parts of their faces, too, which probably wasn't going to be popular with law enforcement if they made it into mainstream fashion, but...then again, ninjas were cool, damn it!

"Yeah, I'm good with a ninja society from now on," he whispered to Saria, who only nodded wordlessly as she kept snapping photos. None of them would be of interest to Mido, who only wanted stupid-looking outfits or salacious ones. Link had a feeling those pictures were solely for Saria's enjoyment.

Link didn't blame her. The models cleared off the catwalk, and for a moment it seemed like that was all Shinobi had to show, but then one last model appeared...and it was like the whole room held its breath.

As did Link.

Because fucking hell, the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen came strutting down the catwalk, looking absolutely confident and knowing of his sexuality.

And his outfit...

Link suddenly felt parched again, finding it very difficult to swallow as the model swayed his hips in time with the music, giving everyone a half-smirk that spoke volumes of how much he knew they wanted him.

The skirt...the boots...the thigh-high socks exposing the perfect amount of skin... There was no shirt, only a leather bolero attached by straps criss-crossing the model's torso, showing off his toned upper body, where muscles rippled sinuously with each movement, almost rhythmically to the music. His hands were covered by half-gloves that looked incredibly impractical but completed the outfit in a way Link couldn't even describe.

His hair was braided into an elegant ponytail that reached his shoulder blades, which bounced with each step he took.

At this point he wasn't even taking pictures. He could just stare at the Sheikah as he reached the end of the catwalk and, with another smirk, did a fast twirl that caused his short skirt to flutter...and reveal that he was wearing a pair of silky panties underneath it.

It was gone from view as fast as it had appeared, but the image was burned into Link's mind.

He tried to swallow again.

Was he drooling?

He was drooling.

"Link..." Saria warned.

Shit.

Link once again brought up his camera in burst mode, just as the Sheikah did another twirl.

Score!

And, as with the Zora model, their eyes met. But unlike the Zora model, Link couldn't read the Sheikah at all. There was nothing in those eyes, negative nor positive.

Sheik couldn't believe his eyes. Was that photographer wearing a t-shirt with the three wolves howling at the moon graphic? How the fuck had he even been let inside?

Sheik didn't much care for fashion in general, but even he knew that you just didn't wear that shirt. Especially not in public!

Moreover, he'd felt that photographer's eyes on him the moment he walked onto the stage, and frankly he felt those two eyes infinitely more keenly than the hundreds of others around him.

Not to mention...wait...

Was...

Was he drooling?

He was drooling.

Disgusting. Just Sheik's luck to catch the attention of the biggest pervert in the place. A pity, too, because the blonde Hylian was kind of cute. Pity about the shirt. And the drooling. And the vacant look on his face as he did so.

The green-haired girl next to him elbowed him in the side, and the photographer seemed to wake up, suddenly raising his equipment and taking lots of shots.

Sheik considered walking away without giving him anything...

...but...

...oh, what the hell. Might as well give the sad bastard something to get flustered about.

Sheik smirked the way Kiro had in the video and did another twirl. Embarrassed as he was to wear this outfit, it also made him feel a little powerful, knowing he had that sort of influence over a person just by flashing a bit of fabric.

It was nothing compared to throwing people around in a judo ring, of course, but he could see why professional models enjoyed this kind of thing.

The model smirked again and did one last twirl (Link snapped more pictures) before walking off the stage, leaving Link to gape.

"Yikes, Link," Saria said as the music died down. "Do you need to go the restroom for a bit?"

Link shut his mouth (jaw clicking), glaring at her. "No, I do not," he said, crossing his legs.

"Whatever you say," his supposed friend giggled. "Want me to send you the pics I took of that last Sheikah?"

Link glared at her for a long moment before muttering a defeated "Yes."