The Art of Undressing

The moon is full. The vibes are feral.

In other words: Suzu's favorite kind of Tuesday.

The studio is dimly lit with LED candles, rose petals, and three bowls of miso soup no one remembers making. Suzu walks in wearing a crown made of ramen packets and a cape fashioned from old kimono scraps.

"Tonight," she declares, arms spread wide like an anime druid, "we summon the spirit of liberation through skin, sweat, and sketching!"

Yuuto is already curled up in a blanket like a confused caterpillar.

"Is this legal?" he whispers.

"No," Rei mutters. "And that's why it works."

Kaito sighs and flips the sign on the front door to read:

CLOSED FOR ARTISTIC WITCHCRAFT.(Do not knock unless you're naked.)

Theme: Lunar Exposure.Model: Suzu.Pose: "Spiritual Nudity in Motion."Translation: interpretive dance, completely nude, with an occasional dramatic monologue in French (that she learned on Duolingo).

Everyone is supposed to sketch freely. No rules. No direction. Just… feel.

Kaito watches from the side, equal parts awe-struck and emotionally confused. The vibe is somewhere between a live exorcism and an extremely tasteful striptease at Burning Man.

Suzu twirls.

Yuuto gasps.

Rei paints with her fingers.

There's glitter. There's shouting. At one point, Suzu makes eye contact with the ceiling fan and whispers, "You understand me, don't you?"

The fan continues spinning.

Silently judging.

Then something happens.

Yuuto—sweaty, wide-eyed, fueled by vibes and raw tofu—creates something else.

A sketch so intense, so raw, that when Rei sees it over his shoulder…

She flinches.

Because the figure in the drawing isn't Suzu.

It's Nocturne.

Alone, in the corner.

Watching.

Face hidden in shadows.

But it's unmistakable.

"I didn't mean to draw them," Yuuto says, voice shaking. "They just… appeared."

Everyone falls silent.

Kaito looks around.

No one else is there.

Or are they?

Later that night, when the others leave (still humming and dripping glitter), Kaito stays behind to clean.

He's scrubbing paint off the floor when he notices the closet door slightly ajar.

Inside, next to the gesso and an unopened box of emergency underpants (don't ask), is a small envelope.

It reads:

"To Kaito. Only when the moon is full."

His hands hesitate.

Then he opens it.

Inside is a short note, handwritten in black ink:

I watch because I'm not brave enough to stand in the light.But when you speak, you make the dark feel warm.If I ever pose again—it will be for you.

P.S. You look good when you're not pretending to be in control.

— Nocturne 💫

Kaito stares at the paper.

His heartbeat slows.

Not in panic.

In… something dangerously close to affection.

He tucks the note into his sketchbook.

Carefully.

Like it might break if folded wrong.

The next morning, he finds a small charcoal sketch left anonymously on the supply table.

It's not signed.

But he knows who drew it.

It's of him.

Bent over his desk.

Smiling.

Just barely.

End of Chapter 8

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