Sai draws like he completes missions. Every line is exact, each page a premeditated exercise in precision.
When Sai is still new to the team and Sakura still feels the need for affinity between team members she joins Sai as he draws, sitting down next to him and glancing at the sketchbook splayed across his lap.
She watches as he flips through pages upon pages of artwork, showing her a drawing here and a rough sketch there, while nodding absently at the compositions.
"They're good, Sai. They're..." she pauses, at a loss for an adjective that can appropriately describe what Sai has created. Because she's not sure what it is exactly, but each picture lacks something vital, something very subtle and abstruse.
They're wonderful from a technical standpoint, the figures anatomically correct, the shading light and unobtrusive.
It isn't until much later, after their small happening has nearly faded from her memory that Sakura finally finds the word she was looking for. She's daydreaming on a mission, (a bad habit) staring at Sai without really realizing it. He glances behind him, face impassive, and upon seeing her curves his lips into a horrible imitation smile almost remnant of Kakashi's.
And she realizes that he will never make a picture that is beautiful, sincere, or complex. He is too empty.