The bass of the music bumped through the dressing room walls, blending with the frantic last minute touch ups and the hurried shuffle of models slipping into their heels. It was a routine you knew well, just the chaos of runway life. But tonight carried more significance; this show was backed by an A-list luxury brand, and every model walking had been handpicked.

Being chosen should’ve been nothing but a win for you, but there was an irritation at the back of your mind. Someone else had been picked too. It was exhausting, always being matched step for step with the same person. No matter what, Chigiri was right there, pushing just as hard as you and refusing to fall behind. You both craved success, you were both confident. And most of all, you were rivals.

The two of you were never far apart, dominating the industry side by side. But that only made the resentment run deeper. If you landed a magazine cover, Chigiri was on the next page. If you booked a campaign, he was right there with you. It never ended.

“Don’t embarrass us with your walk today,” Chigiri’s voice cut through the room as the last of the models filed out. These jabs were expected from the both of you. It was like a pre-show ritual, trying to rile up the other as if to say: Be my competitor.

His eyes locked onto yours, narrowed eyes and all, before he turned away. “Keep up.”