The Art of Undressing

Wednesdays at The Art of Undressing are like leftover lasagna—messy, emotionally layered, and possibly better than the first time.

The studio is unusually bright today. Haruka brought sunflowers. Suzu brought a disco ball. Rei… brought rules.

She stands in front of the group with the authority of a militant raccoon librarian.

"Today's challenge," she announces, holding up a sign that says:

NO BLACK. NO GREY. ONLY COLOR.(Yes, even you, Yuuto.)

Yuuto groans and clutches his 4B pencil like a lifeline.

"I'm not emotionally prepared for... yellow."

"Good," Rei snaps. "That means you're about to grow."

Haruka sips coffee. "Is this artistic growth or a pastel-colored mental breakdown?"

"Yes," Rei says.

Today's Model: Haruka "I'm Not Competitive but I Will Destroy You" Morimoto.Theme: "Joy in Collapse."Requested props: glitter, a watermelon, and a tax form from 2019 (???)

"I want to model the exact moment you realize adulthood is a scam," Haruka explains as she drapes herself in a velvet robe and drops half a watermelon on the floor. "But, like, sexy."

Yuuto looks to Kaito, as if begging for adult supervision.

Kaito, sipping his third coffee of the day, simply mutters: "Let her cook."

Suzu, who hasn't stopped humming a chakra-tuning frequency since sunrise, stares at her canvas like she's seeing sound. She's painting Haruka as a collapsed goddess, surrounded by paperwork and watermelon juice. There's… joy in it. Chaos joy.

Rei paints a fire.

Not literal flames, but Haruka, mid-laugh, wrapped in red and orange and liberation.

Yuuto accidentally uses lavender. Then coral. Then screams "I'M GAY FOR COLOR" and knocks over his palette.

Everyone applauds his bravery.

Enter: Yuuto's Mom.

Without warning.

Without knocking.

In a visor and yoga pants.

"YUUUUUUTOOOOO~!" she sings, barging into the studio like a very polite tornado.

"Oh no," Yuuto gasps, ducking behind an easel. "Abort mission! Hide the glitter!"

His mother blinks.

Takes one look at the mostly-nude Haruka, the disco ball, the watermelon carnage, and then at her son hiding behind a canvas labeled "Emotional Meltdown in Peach Tones."

Oh," she says calmly. "So this is what you've been doing instead of accounting school."

Haruka stands, fully topless, holding a glitter-covered pen.

"I'm the model," she says sweetly.

Yuuto's mom adjusts her visor. "Good form. Nice bone structure. You hydrate, don't you?"

Haruka nods. "Coconut water and revenge."

Yuuto's mom smiles. "I like you."

Then she turns to Kaito and drops a bomb.

"Do you need an older model for a 'Motherhood and Martini Nights' theme? I've always wanted to be painted nude. Ever since I watched Titanic."

Yuuto faints.

Post-chaos debrief.

Yuuto is horizontal on the beanbag.

"I died," he whispers. "I'm a ghost now. A spirit made of pastel shame."

Haruka pats his head. "Your mom has incredible energy. She offered me banana bread and a wine spritzer recipe."

Suzu sighs. "Her aura radiated authority. And cinnamon."

Rei, casually finishing her painting, says without looking up: "Your mom has better boundaries than you."

Yuuto moans.

Kaito, meanwhile, is staring at a message on his phone.

From: Nocturne.

I want to return. Not to pose. Not yet. But to watch.To see what I might become.

Is that allowed?

Kaito replies:

Of course. Come as you are. Or as you're becoming. We have watermelon.

He hits send.

Then looks around the studio.

It smells like paint, glitter, and personal breakthroughs.

Yuuto is slowly recovering from maternal trauma.

Rei is pretending she didn't have fun.

Haruka is adjusting her robe like a queen who just overthrew capitalism.

And Suzu?

Suzu is hanging the disco ball from a light fixture using dental floss and sheer belief.

Kaito grins.

"This isn't a school anymore," he mutters.

And he's right.

It's not a school. It's not a gallery. It's not a therapy group.

It's a cathedral for the beautifully weird and tenderly unhinged.

And it's just getting started.