The Art of Undressing

If The Art of Undressing were a religion, then today—Thursday—would be the holy day of exposed thighs and emotional vulnerability.

Why?

Because Suzu made it official.

"Welcome to Wholesome Nude Thursdays," she proclaims, nude except for fuzzy pink earmuffs and a Hello Kitty bandaid on her elbow."Today we strip not for lust, but for healing."

Kaito chokes on his tea.Rei buries her face in her scarf.Yuuto mumbles, "This is how cults start."Nocturne, still lingering in the shadows near the tea station, simply nods. "Spiritual nudity is underrated."

The Concept:

Everyone poses. Everyone sketches.You're not allowed to say "sorry" while being naked.There's herbal tea, soft jazz, and consent forms written in crayon.

Rei is first to pose.

Not fully nude—just shoulder bared, legs folded, eyes fierce and defiant.

"I'm not here for approval," she mutters.

Yuuto whispers to Kaito, "She's here for revenge through art."

Haruka shows up late, dramatically tossing off a coat to reveal a bedsheet toga. "Did I miss the existential disrobing?"

Suzu gasps. "You're just in time for the affirmation chant."

Everyone: "We are beautiful meat lanterns of emotion!"

Rei: "I will kill all of you."

Then it happens.

The door opens.

Enter: Yuuto's ex-boyfriend.

Shirtless.

Sculpted like a fallen Greek god with daddy issues.

"Hey," he says casually, like he hasn't just detonated Yuuto's last three years of therapy."Someone said you're doing, uh… nude healing art now?"

Yuuto's soul leaves his body.

Kaito, sensing an incoming emotional landslide, tries to redirect."Ah, welcome. Please sign the Consent to Be Sketched While Vulnerable form and maybe… don't emotionally destroy my student?"

Too late.

Ex-Boyfriend (real name: Takumi, known among the group instantly as That Guy) sits down, flexes, and smirks at Yuuto.

"Miss me?"

Yuuto stares.

Then calmly walks to the bathroom.

And screams.

Fifteen minutes later…

Yuuto returns wearing nothing but a towel and pure rage.He strikes a pose that can only be described as "elegantly unbothered flamingo."

"I will draw him," he announces. "And I will make his left pec significantly smaller out of spite."

Everyone claps. Including Nocturne, who is now sipping hibiscus tea like a gay cryptid observing human behavior.

Meanwhile, Rei pulls Kaito aside near the supply closet.

She looks… weird.

Nervous.

Eyes sharp but twitchy.

"I need to say something," she says.

Kaito braces.

"I don't—" she starts, voice cracking. "I don't hate this. The studio. You. This mess. The naked people. The tea. The… feeling things."

She looks at him, terrified.

"I think I care."

A long pause.

Kaito, soft-voiced: "That's okay."

Rei nods. Then immediately punches him in the arm and runs away.

By the end of the day:

Suzu's affirmation chants have evolved into interpretive humming.

Haruka has painted her own buttprint in gold and declared it "post-capitalist rebellion."

Yuuto finished his sketch of Takumi—with a dramatic emphasis on uneven nipples and a suspicious extra toe. Rei cried. It was beautiful.

Nocturne drew something quietly in the corner and left before anyone noticed.

Kaito finds it after everyone's gone.

It's a self-portrait.

Nocturne, fully revealed—no shadows, no cloak.

Naked.

Alone.

But reaching forward.

And behind them: the outline of a hand—Kaito's, maybe—almost touching.

Kaito tucks the drawing beside the others. His secret collection.

He's not sure what's happening yet.

But it feels like the first time someone has ever drawn toward him instead of away.

And it's terrifying.

And thrilling.

And naked.

In every possible way.

End of Chapter 10