School passes fast like a summer storm. Yusuke focuses on his studies very seriously, missing breakfast once more, but he did manage to make himself a bento box for lunch. Even so, he can't stop thinking about Akiko, and there's something about it which feels wrong. She's a very nice girl, whom he saw as someone beautiful when she doesn't seem to believe so. Perhaps she's too modest to think so. Modesty is what makes a person lovely after all.
In art class, Yusuke decided to paint Akiko. His hands cooperated with him brilliantly at first, but to his horror, her features lacked the passion and pure beauty that he seeks. He glowered at the sensual being displayed on the white surface. True, he did capture her slender figure, smooth and long black curls, graceful thighs... His hands, disobedient and traitorous, had failed him. He sighed, putting his brush down.
"Oh, Amamiya-san..." he mumbled, leaning back for what felt like ages. Yusuke got up from his seat to stretch his muscles, his joints popped satisfyingly after sitting in a slightly hunched position for what seems like an hour. He left class when the bell rang, and everything goes back to a normal routine.
Even coming home felt unappealing. Madarame is in the middle of a phone call, although he simply nods in acknowledging his pupil's return. Yusuke simply stares at his collection of untouched sketchbooks and empty canvases, all calling out to Akiko's beauty to grace their blankness, but what was memory compared to the real thing? What was a simple portrait of a young woman to the presence of a real-life angel?
Just then, the doorbell rings.
"Go answer it!" Madarame hollers from down the corridor.
Obediently, Yusuke heads over to the intercom and pushes the button to speak to whoever's on the other side. "Who is it? Sensei is currently-"
"Um, it's me. It's Akiko."
Yusuke's heart leapt joyously. He hadn't expected to see his muse again. It's as if God has answered his prayers, sensing his distress and had delivered this angel right on his front door. "I'll be right out!" He rushes to the door, unlocking the latch and throwing it open in a swift motion. "Amamiya-san!" Yusuke cut off his enthusiastic greeting when he immediately noticed that Akiko isn't alone. The blonde hooligan, Ryuji is his name, and Ann are flanking her, and neither of them are smiling. "...You two are here, as well?" The disappointment in his voice is clear as crystal.
Ryuji offered a lopsided grin. "Hey!"
It was perfectly clear that Yusuke didn't want him around. He noticed Akiko giving him an apologetic frown.
"Sorry, but we ain't here to talk about the modeling thing. There's something we gotta ask you." Ryuji's body language, expression and tone become unusually intense, like a policeman in an interrogation room. "Is it true Madarame's plagiarizing stuff? He's abusing people too, yeah?"
Yusuke's blood runs cold. Those words hit him like a brick wall, but he masked his emotions perfectly. He stares at the accuser with a neutral, cold frown. "Are you serious?" he asked, incredulous. The memory of Akiko's searching gaze from the other day comes back to haunt him, and he glances over at his muse to see that he's receiving the same look now. There's no way she found out. Not from one day at the exhibit. Yusuke had been careful not making mistakes.
"We read about it online." The idiot had the nerve to show him the comments on his phone.
Yusuke takes a step forward to get a closer examination. Advancing on the hooligan seems like a good solution, given his taller height and intimidating features, but he wants to see this for himself. "This...?" And then, Yusuke finds himself erupting into a fit of hysteric laughter. "Hehehehe... Hahahahahahaha!"
This has got to be some joke.
Plagirism.
Abuse.
He's never done anything so atrocious in his life. Madarame has never raised a hand to hurt him, and using one of his artworks in the exhibit in exchange for all the care he's received to make him grow up to be the talented young man he is today. It isn't plagiarism if he agreed to hand over his ideas to his beloved foster father, right?
"Preposterous! Not only is the plagiarism impossible, but abuse? If he hated children so much to harm them, he would never allow pupils into his home!" His deep, baritone voice was as powerful as his reasoning for defending the man who had given him more kindness than he deserves. Who are those fools to judge such a good person? "And I'm the one residing here and studying under him. I'm saying it's not true, so it's beyond doubt."
"You might be lying about it!" Ryuji's snippy retort causes the painter's body to radiate anger.
"That..." Yusuke clutches a fist onto his chest, just where his heart is. "That is utter rubbish." If anyone had noticed, his already pale complexion goes whiter than ever. But he recollects himself at the last second. "That's utter rubbish. I had no family when Sensei took me in! He's the one who raised me into what you see now! If you continue to ridicule the man I owe my life to, you will rue this day!" His deep bellow and scathing glare forces that worthless idiot to take a step back.
"You really think that?" Ann protested, raising her hands defensively, but a trace of agitation and disbelief were clearly visible on her lovely features.
"Look, Kitagawa-kun..." Akiko, whom had remained quiet ever since the heated exchange between the two males started, spoke in a soft, audible tone. She was more calmer and soothing than those two. "I'm sorry about all this. I was just worried for your safety. We saw the post online and I wanted to make sure if you're okay."
Yusuke stared at his muse with a bewildered face. Worried for his safety? An uneasy silence falls over him. Nobody has ever expressed genuine concern for him in quite a while... least of all, coming from a female. Touched, he inhales softly and prepares to take a step forward, to explain what she believes is all a misunderstanding...
"Yusuke?" The mood breaks when Madarame has made his presence be known. Of course, Yusuke had been shouting. Sensei must've overheard them. "What's the matter? I heard you yelling." His guardian is sincerely concerned.
Panic burns inside Yusuke's chest. He's not responsible for this mess. He gestured an accusing hand towards Ryuji and Ann to condemn them for being the cause of this commotion. "These people are slandering you with baseless rumors!"
The elderly artist just shook his head a little, before offering a soothing response to ease the tension, "Forgive them, Yusuke. They must've heard some bad rumors and came in worry for their friend's safety." He gave a lighthearted smile toward the group.
Sighing, Yusuke reluctantly lowered his head. Of course his Sensei is forgiving. The young artist should've known better. Although, he doesn't believe this is right. These people should be told off for slandering him, but if his Sensei knows better than he does, Yusuke isn't complied to argue. "Understood, Sensei..."
"Well, even I doubt that a cranky old man like myself could be liked by everyone." Madarame continues, a hint of jovial in his tone.
"That's not what we meant..." Ann protested, except it's much weaker this time.
Madarame interrupts her with a simple raise of his hand. "I'm sorry to have butt in on your conversation. However, I do have neighbors around. Could I please ask you to keep it down?"
"Yes, sir." Akiko bowed in response.
"Now, if you'll excuse me." That seemed to be enough for Madarame, who quickly excused himself to shuffle back inside the atelier.
The neighbors? Yusuke had completely forgotten about that. How much did they hear, if they did? Madarame's smooth comments have dispersed the flames of anger which Yusuke had so openly displayed when he lashed out at the two blondes earlier. He grimaces, unsure of what to do next. Apologizing seems like the correct decision for his poor behavior. His Sensei would approve of that.
"That was discourteous of me... I'm sorry." The young artist bowed stiffly in the direction of the two blondes. Neither of them was quite sure how to reply. Yusuke stares at his feet and his mind is lost in thought, desperately trying to find a way to prove his guardian's innocence to them. Then, his face brightens like the sun once the answer becomes so obvious. "I know! I think you'll be able to believe in Sensei if you saw that painting."
He pulls out his phone and navigates through the multiple photos to search for that famous painting he admired for so long. It wasn't long until Yusuke finds his favorite image of Sayuri while explaining the origin behind it. Akiko and her friends crowd around to get a closer look. "It's his maiden work as well as his most representative piece - it's titled Sayuri.
"Sayuri?" Ann's eyes widened, spellbound.
"This was the painting that inspired me to become an artist."
"It's so beautiful."
"I don't know all this fine-art stuff, but even I can tell that this is impressive." Even Ryuji confessed his amazement when he first laid eyes on the portrait.
Yusuke slipped his phone back into his pocket and focused his full attention toward Akiko, his eyes practically sparkling. It makes his confession to why he chose her to be his model in the first place more admirable than ever. "When I first saw you, I felt the same powerful emotion as when I saw this painting."
"W-What? M-Me?" Akiko stuttered, pointing at herself with a trembling finger. The complexion of her face was quickly changing to a dark shade of crimson. "But I'm not..." The flustered girl fumbles over her words. "I don't know if I'm that beautiful! Are you sure you didn't make a mistake by choosing me?"
The young artist ignores her flustered protests and silences her by delicately placing his finger over her lips, leaving her stunned. "I wish to pursue beauty like this. And I believe drawing you will be part of that pursuit," he elaborated, reaching out to grasp her hand between his own. "I implore you, Amamiya-san! Seriously consider my offer."
After a moment of consideration, Akiko's response is slightly meek, "I still need time to think it over."
"I'm sorry that you took the time to come all this way, but I must assist Sensei today." Yusuke slowly releases her hand. In his secret thoughts, he relished in the feel of her fingertips grazing his skin, soft as flower petals. "I hope we can discuss this further another time. If you'll excuse me, then."
He turns to walk back inside the house, sliding the door closed and locking it behind him. The abrupt cough in Madarame's throat is a warning sign that his Sensei wishes to reprimand him. Usually, it happens whenever he disobeys his master or does something wrong. It wasn't Yusuke's fault that his muse's two comrades had the gall to insult his master like that.
Quite suddenly, Madarame grabbed Yusuke by the arm and pulled him inside the studio. The frightened teen feels a dread of terror rush down his spine. That jovial warmth had evaporated from the elderly man's face which had now become terrifying and lethal.
"You need to keep your actions and words under control, Yusuke!" he scolded, the iciness in his tone made the boy tense. "Did you so much as inform that girl... your muse..." Madarame spat as if the word itself is poison, "about the-"
"No, Sensei!" Yusuke's defense is weak, but he stands his ground. "Amamiya-san knows nothing. I made sure of it during the exhibition." He knows who is to blame for all of this. "It's those incompetent friends of hers! They're the ones who discovered those idiotic rumors about you." As soon as he got too close to Akiko, that meddlesome hooligan, Ryuji, just had to have the nerve to drive a wedge between them. Even his respect for Ann had gone down the drain when she started questioning Madarame's reputation. "I apologize for my behavior, nevertheless."
Madarame just sighed, grasping his temple in slight frustration. "See that an incident like this doesn't repeat for the second time. If her friends remain persistent regarding those rumors, I don't want them near my house again. As for that girl... you better keep her on a tight leash from now on. If I don't have that nude painting soon, there will be some inconveniences."
"Understood, Sensei." The undying loyalty Yusuke feels for his master will never falter.