Mornings at The Art of Undressing are starting to feel… routine. Which is alarming, because when your routine involves semi-nude emotional outbursts and sword-wielding idols, something is probably broken inside you.
Kaito sips his lukewarm kombucha (he read somewhere it helps with spiritual clarity; he mostly uses it to avoid real breakfast) and stares at the schedule.
Model Today: Haruka Morimoto.Theme: "Freedom."Requested Prop: 47 white feathers.Optional backup: live pigeon (DENIED).
He sighs. "Why do I feel like I'm running an art cult with mood swings?"
Just then, the door creaks open. Rei walks in early. Suspiciously early. And… carrying a color palette.
Kaito nearly drops his not-kombucha.
"You… brought colors."
Rei flinches like he just accused her of a felony. "It's not permanent. I'm testing something."
He peers into her case. Red. Yellow. Even—dare he believe—blue.
"Rei Tachibana, have you fallen in love?"
"No. I saw a pigeon wearing a pink bowtie this morning and had a moment of weakness."
"...Same thing."
Haruka enters like a renaissance painting walked into a rave. She's wearing a silk robe, glitter on her cheeks, and 47 pristine feathers tied to thin strings hanging from her wrists, ankles, and (somehow) shoulders.
"I feel like a chicken that just got its groove back," she announces.
Yuuto walks in behind her, sees the feathers, and immediately drops his sketchpad.
"Oh no," he whispers. "She evolved."
They begin the session. Haruka stands on one foot like a deranged crane goddess, feathers floating, chin lifted as if auditioning for a perfume ad directed by Sofia Coppola.
Yuuto's hand trembles. "This is too beautiful. I'm not emotionally stable enough for this pose."
Kaito leans against the wall. "Just draw, man. Cry later."
Rei starts sketching silently. Then pauses.
And—without fanfare—dips her brush into red.
Kaito sees it. Freezes. Wants to say something, but doesn't. Doesn't need to.
Because Rei, for the first time in years, is painting not in pain… but in curiosity.
The room hums with unspoken tension. Feathers sway. Pencils dance. Even Yuuto, surprisingly, doesn't cry. He's too focused. Too enchanted.
Haruka whispers mid-pose:"I feel like I'm flying and grieving at the same time."
Kaito writes that down. He doesn't know if it's a poem or a mental breakdown, but it's good either way.
During break, everyone collapses like emotionally overcooked spaghetti.
Rei stands over her own sketch in disbelief. The red she used is subtle—just on Haruka's lips. But it's there.
Yuuto sneaks a peek. "You brought red back?"
"I didn't mean to," she murmurs. "It just… happened."
Haruka sits beside her. "You know, when I quit being an idol, I thought I'd never wear glitter again. I wore it today for fun."
Rei blinks. "...Why are you telling me this?"
"Because sometimes, the things that once caged you can eventually set you free."
Yuuto nods sagely. "Like when I stopped using rulers. I embraced the chaos."
Everyone ignores him. But with affection.
Then the door swings open again.
A new figure enters.
Barefoot. Wearing nothing but a sheer poncho made of what appears to be bubble wrap and pure confidence.
"Hi," she says. "I'm Suzu. I'm here to model next week."
Everyone stares.
Rei blinks. "You're early."
Suzu shrugs. "I got excited. Also, pants are a social construct."
Kaito blinks. "We're... fully booked for this week."
"No worries. I'll just vibe in the corner. Don't mind me."
She sits in lotus position and begins humming what might be whale songs. Or death metal. No one is sure.
Yuuto leans in. "Where do you find these people?"
Kaito sighs. "I don't. They find me."
At the end of the day, everyone lingers.
Rei stays behind to clean her brushes. Haruka helps put the feathers back in her bag, one by one. Yuuto offers Suzu a KitKat, which she respectfully declines because she's "currently in a sugar celibacy phase."
Kaito locks up late.
And when he's finally alone, he notices a small feather caught in the ceiling fan, spinning gently.
He doesn't take it down.
He lets it turn.
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