Niou grins and Yukimura chuckles; it's the biggest rise he can get from the model, each time, so he accepts it. He doesn't wish to, but it's a losing challenge with Yukimura.
"Still won't leave Tezuka?" he asks, and that makes the smile fade from Yukimura's face, and then reappear, sharper than before.
"I like Tezuka."
"You sound like a faithful housewife, waiting for her husband to return home."
"Hardly." Yukimura snorts. "I'd not even define myself as faithful."
"Oh but you are. Sticking to Tezuka like you do. The sex is just sex, and no one expects anyone to be faithful in this business. But you're a rare one, refusing other jobs." Nious face loses it's smirk, and he drops his voice. "I can make you the shining star of the world. A rich man. Give you everything."
"You forget, Niou," Yukimura tells him, and reaches up to grab his chin. "I'm already rich, I've got everything I need, and I'm well on the way to becoming a star."
"With Tezuka'as clothes."
"I never expected you to be jealous." Yukimura chuckles at that, and whatever reply Niou has is lost in the force of Yukimura's kiss.
-
"No, no, no." Niou's voice doesn't rise, doesn't change at all, but everyone in the workroom can feel his displeasure. "This is fucking crap."
"But-" someone tries to protest; there's no point, however, because Niou's already ripping the shirt from the mannequin and tossing the material down. "Try another fabric. It's supposed to flow. That crap wasn't flowing."
He stalks out of the workroom just as quickly as he entered and back into his studio. Everyone on the floor can hear the door slam.
"I wonder what crawled up his ass and died," Marui mutters from the hall, steps from the studio door. Niou hadn't even noticed him. He rolls his eyes and turns away; there's always another day to visit the temperamental bastard.
-
"Still as moody today as you were yesterday?" Marui asks, the following day. He leans against the table Niou's behind, working on a sketch, blocking the artist's light, not that Marui cares.
"Yep," Niou replies and reaches up to push Marui aside. "You're getting fat."
"You're just too used to working with anorexic models."
"They're not anorexic. They've just got fast metabolisms."
"Yeah and my hair is natural."
"You just brighten it up every now and then."
"Whatever, I'm not here to discuss my dieting habits or your models. I'm here to find out the latest."
Niou looks up then, frowning; sweeps his arm across the table, and Marui watches in fascination as the papers go flying. "There's another newcomer to the stage."
"What's so big about that? There are newcomers every season."
"This one's endorsed by Tezuka."
That's all that Marui needs to piece together everything; the hush-hush atmosphere of Tezuka's studio the past few days, Niou's mood.
"He's got to be good, then. To have Tezuka backing him."
"He's shit." Niou slams his fist against the table. "Crap. His clothes are good, but that's it. He doesn't understand, isn't doing it for any other reason than to prove he can."
"So he's not a pretentious designer who thinks his work is the shit. Big-fucking-deal, Niou."
"You need to see him, Marui; see his designs." Niou shakes his head. "It's a big-fucking-deal. In fact, it's a huge-fucking-deal. Tezuka I didn't mind, Tezuka I respect. But this damn brat comes unto the scene as if he owns it and isn't expecting any challenges."
"Oh, boo-hoo Niou. You can't tell me you're getting pissed because some new designer is trying to usurp your spot."
"He's not going to usurp my spot." Niou frowns. "But I can't stand."
"Then take him down a notch. Show him who is who."
Niou stares at Marui for a moment and leans back, grinning. "You know, Marui, you're right; that's exactly what I should do."
"Glad I good be of service."
"Tell me, got any ideas on how sway Yukimura to my side?"
That question, futile and pointless, makes Marui roll his eyes. He doesn't even bother to reply to it.
"I'll see you at the show tomorrow."
"Fuck, it's tomrorow already?" Niou scrambles up from his chair and grabs a piece of paper from the floor. "Gotta go, Marui. Work to do. Make sure to get lots of good pictures of my pieces. They're always stunning."
"Stop playing up your ego, ass."
"Love you too, darling."
-
Niou slips backstage. It's easy to do because even if he's not Sanada's favorite anymore, he was once. And he's still a noted designer in the world market, and it makes people respect him.
They really shouldn't.
Security thinks he needs time with his designs, to perfect some touch here or add something there. It's hardly the truth, but it works for him. And there's enough people wandering in and out that they won't even think to question him.
Echizen's in the middle of the afternoon. Bad time, short show, but worth it. He'll get noticed. He's going to get noticed no matter what. But Niou's going to make sure it doesn't go over as well as it should.
All of his clothes are there, lined up perfectly, in order of what will be shown. And Niou grabs an item at large, and sees: this is just a copy.
Certainly, a copy with original touches, but it's still just a copy. There's no disguising that fact; these were clothes that have been seen before, before their times, but things any good designer would know by heart.
Chuckling at this point, he thinks, would make him a very poor copy of a very pathetic criminal. He's above that.
Niou smirks instead.
It just takes a seam ripper, a needle and some thread, and a few gaudy ribbons, but in the end, not quite half of the clothes are altered. Seams ripped, threads hanging down, buttons removed, original touches altered. It's satisfying work, to take a line that's only a rip-off and show the world what it is.