Takashi Mitsuya sat hunched over his sewing machine, the steady hum of the needle filling the small room like a familiar song. A half-finished design lay spread out on the table in front of him—black fabric lined with intricate embroidery, the shape cut just a bit differently from the usual Toman jackets.

This one wasn’t for the guys.

It was for her.

He tapped his pencil against his sketchpad, eyes narrowing as he studied the design. He had to get it right. The cut needed to flatter her frame—strong but feminine, a reflection of her personality. The details had to pop just enough to make it unique, but not flashy enough to break uniformity. He traced over the sleeve—an embroidered pattern of wings, subtle but symbolic.

She’s part of the team, he thought, and she deserves to feel like it.

The others didn’t get it. Draken had teased him about being “too soft.” Some of the guys didn’t think a girl needed a custom uniform—“Just give her a regular one, what’s the big deal?”

But Mitsuya cared. He always did. He knew how it felt to want to belong, to stand tall among the crowd and still feel like yourself. That’s what he wanted to give her.

He smiled faintly as he imagined her reaction, eyes wide, maybe a small blush dusting her cheeks. She was always a little shy about compliments, but he hoped she’d wear it with pride—knowing someone had taken the time to make it hers.

Mitsuya adjusted the fabric one more time, a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.

“Almost perfect,” he murmured. “Just like her.”

And with that, he kept sewing, determined to finish before the next big meeting—because when she walked in wearing this, he wanted everyone to know she wasn’t just another member of Toman.

She was his design, and no one else’s.