The Art of Undressing

Sayaka Fujiwara enters the studio like a storm pretending to be calm.

She's not naked.

Not even close.

She wears a floor-length robe of silver-blue silk, a thousand-needle embroidery of cranes, and a smirk that says: I know everything you've ever feared about yourself.

Kaito sets up the easel.

He's sweating but pretending he isn't.

Rei grips her charcoal stick like it owes her money.

Yuuto whispers, "Do you think she eats normal food or just sips conflict through a straw?"

Nocturne replies, "Both. At once."

THE ASSIGNMENT:

Draw Sayaka.

But not just what she looks like.

"Draw the version of me you think I am," she says.

"And maybe I'll tell you if you're right."

She sits on the velvet chaise like royalty awaiting betrayal.

Everyone stares at her.

She stares back, absolutely unbothered.

30 Minutes In…

Rei is drawing flames. Literal ones. Sayaka's hair is a firestorm. Her mouth a blade. Her robe? A curtain hiding a collapsing castle.

Yuuto draws her as a hydra wearing Chanel, each head sighing passive-aggressively.

Suzu draws her as a sentient perfume ad trapped in an existential crisis.

Nocturne draws slow. Methodical. Focused. Expression unreadable.

And Kaito?

Kaito draws like he's remembering a ghost that once touched his cheek and slapped his ambition.

Sayaka watches all of them.

She doesn't flinch. Doesn't fidget.

Not even when Rei accidentally snaps a pencil and mutters, "Oops. My hatred broke it."

Sayaka simply says, "I prefer truth over flattery."

Yuuto yells, "Then prepare to be emotionally shanked by pastels, ma'am!"

Kaito's Drawing

He draws her face last.

Not because he forgot it.

Because he remembers too much of it.

Every line in her robe is precise. Controlled. Symmetrical.

But the expression?

Not regal.

Not cruel.

Tired.

Like someone holding a pose too long in a spotlight they never asked for.

He hesitates before finishing.

Then, in the corner of the paper, writes:

"You always said perfection was power. But maybe imperfection is freedom."

He doesn't know if it's a compliment or a goodbye.

Break Time.

Sayaka stretches like a villain preparing for Act III.

She walks around, examining each drawing.

Stops at Rei's.

"Fascinating," she says. "You drew me like I'm a war you haven't finished."

Rei meets her gaze. "You're the reason he's scared of being happy."

Sayaka pauses.

Then:

"No. He's the reason he's scared of being happy. I just held up the mirror."

She turns to Yuuto's hydra.

Laughs.

"I love this one. Accurate."

Then… Nocturne's.

She stares.

Longer than anyone else's.

Nocturne's Drawing

It's simple. Raw. Mostly pencil.

But there's a detail no one else captured:

Sayaka's hands.

Not poised. Not clawed. Not stylish.

Just… human.

One gripping her robe too tightly.

The other curled slightly inward, as if hiding something.

She stares at it a long time.

Then looks up at Nocturne.

"What do you think I want?" Sayaka asks.

Nocturne shrugs. "To be seen without being pitied."

Sayaka swallows.

Almost flinches.

"…You're good," she says. "Annoying, but good."

Back at Kaito's easel, Sayaka studies his piece.

Silence.

Then:

"You always saw the crack before the marble," she says. "That was your gift. And your weakness."

"I'm done breaking things to make art," Kaito replies.

Sayaka looks at him. Not cruel. Not superior.

Just… sad.

"You were never meant for my world."

"I know," he says. "I just thought I had to be."

THE REVEAL.

Each artist pins their drawing on the wall.

The students gather, quiet, buzzing with judgment and caffeine.

Sayaka walks down the line.

She points at each piece.

Gives a single word review.

"Angry." (Rei)

"Deranged." (Yuuto)

"Tragically accurate." (Suzu)

"Intolerably honest." (Nocturne)

"Unfinished." (Kaito)

He frowns. "It's not."

"It is," she says. "But maybe that's the point."

Then she turns to the class.

"You all want to find yourselves in art.

But you can't until you stop hiding your fears in your work.

Fear is not truth.

Vulnerability is."

Silence.

Even Fernando the plant leans in.

Sayaka walks to the door.

Just before she leaves, she turns.

"Thank you for seeing me," she says.

Then, softer, to Kaito:

"And thank you for letting go."

That Night.

The group gathers on the rooftop.

It's chilly. Someone brings cocoa. Someone else brings wine disguised as tea.

They don't talk about Sayaka.

They just… exist.

Paint-stained. Exhausted. Real.

Rei leans on Nocturne's shoulder.

Yuuto braids Haruka's hair in the dark.

Suzu teaches Fernando how to "emotionally pose."

Kaito stares at the sky.

He doesn't feel broken.

He feels… unfinished.

And finally okay with that.

End of Chapter 16