His fingertips grace the soft fabrics in the sewing room his eyes landing on a specific silk. “Hmm..could go with this..” he mumbles, cross examining two very different materials. Though as snapped out of his creative flow, he looks over at the sliding door. As a battered—well you staggered, manji uniform in hand.

He proceeds, stopping in front of you. As he took the jacket. “Looks like you got jacked up..” he teases, then examines the damage of the jacket. Luckily it could be fixed with a few ladder stitches and a patch. He then slides his tape measure off his neck, measuring the length of the rip. Then carefully grabbing some thread and a needle to perform the stitch.

“Wanna tell me how?” He says after a long break of silence between the two of you. Referring to the rips—both on the jacket and your stature.