Tamaki couldn't stop thinking about the events that transpired the other day. He always saw Yuki as somebody that was his bright eyed apprentice in training. Not as a homesick lost little kitten. It made him feel rather guilty. He had a life before coming to Japan. A rather happy one by the looks of it. He put on his smock and tried to focus on his class. He looked around at the other students. All of them older and some sporting outrageous fashion. This was seriously making him feel like he was at sea. Maybe he could make friends. The girl next to him had a name tag. It said Keiko.
He turned to Keiko to strike up some conversation. "Ah, in this room once again. It's like my heart goes into overdrive every time I'm in here. I mean, can you believe it? THEE Osamu Nakajima, am I right?" The college girl raised an eyebrow. He sighed brushing a lock of blonde hair to the side. "Quite honestly between you and moi, he doesn't believe I can be a true artist, but I'll show him a new side of me. The world thinks I'm a snobbish pretty boy, but I can show him my inner depth and pain." She gave a slight chuckle. "I mean just the other day, I ran out of school uniforms, and had to borrow a uniform from the vice president of my club. That's the sort of frustration that I will be able to use in my art." He said almost as if in a noble fashion.
"I'm using my girlfriend's suicide." Keiko said in a bland fashion. Tamaki was drained of color, and shrank like a mouse, turning back to his canvas. Some of these artist were far more hardcore than him. He would need to up his game.
With a loud bang the door swang open, and Yuki's ever intimidating father walked in, and placed his stuff away. "Pick up your brushes and get ready. We will be starting a new lesson today." He said drinking from a mug of coffee.
The blonde smiled bright. "Oh, what is it today? Greenery, landscapes?"
Mr. Nakajima gave a dead stare. "Does this look like the local park Tama-chan?" He curled up a bit irritated. A simple no would have worked. "Today we will not be working on details. We will be working on angles of light and shadow, and we will focus on how it falls on a living creature. That living creature is the female form."
"What?" Tamaki said confused.
With a snap of his fingers a beautiful woman stepped in. Tamaki smiled. He was supposed to draw her? He stood straight. This was going to be a piece of cake. It was his job after all to appreciate a woman. He could draw a woman in a robe... but why did she have a robe?
Without even a flinch, she dropped it in front of everybody, and Tamaki stared in disbelief. He had never seen such a woman disrobe so confidently and shamelessly in front of a crowd. Did she even realize what she had just done? His face turned pink, and he felt so embarrassed. He held a hand over his mouth. Was Yuki's father for real? He suddenly realized that his discomfort was being noticed by everybody. Even Mr. Nakajima was staring at him in an almost predictable way. Like he knew he would overreact. Either Mr. Nakajima already knew he wasn't up for it, or he was expecting somebody to make a big deal out of it, and knew Tamaki would be the first. He immediately pardoned himself. "I apologize it caught me off guard."
After his apology she moved up to the pedestal in the center of the room, and stood there so everybody could observe her. The more mature artists got started, as Tamaki proceeded as well. Mr. Nakajima continued his lesson ignoring Tamaki's apology. "As you begin to sketch. Think less of the human form as a person, and more as an object, and apply it as an addition in the surrounding environment of the room. What is the defining characteristic that catches your eye?"
Tamaki gasped and turned even darker staring at the model then at his teacher. Did he just ask the class what on her body caught their eye? What kind of stupid question was that? It was extremely obvious.
It was then that Mr. Nakajima was getting annoyed. It was predictable that he would be the one to be making a big deal, but not continue it. He glared until Tamaki managed to regain his composure, and try to ignore the nude figure in front of him, and rather focus on being a proper gentleman he often labeled himself on being.
"I need you all to focus on the reflection of light. How the human body works on the light. Which parts reflect the light, and which parts cast a shadow. Follw the curves and contours of the shapes."
Suddenly there was a clattering sound. Tamaki dropped his pencil, and reached for it, his face as red as it could be. His nerves were betraying him, as his hand shook. If he couldn't handle being in the presence of a nude woman, how could he regroup and have the courage to draw her? He was granted a spot in this class, and blowing it! He could hardly hold his hand still as he tried to sketch. It was then that things seem to get at their worst when he saw out of the corner of his eye, his frightening sensei. "Excuse me Mr. Suoh, but perhaps you haven't noticed. You are in an art class. Not an Elementary class. Shall I introduce the breasts of a woman to you, or have you never seen them before?"
He tried to cover himself. "No, I mean, yes, I mean... I've seen... some?" He didn't know how to answer without sounding like either a pervert, or an ignorant child. So this is how the class would go? Being called out in front of everybody, and being the fool of the class?
Osamu merely sneered. "Please try to have some respect."
Tamaki took a minute to close his eyes, and keep himself under control. This wasn't as hard as he was making it out to be. He could do this. He just had to stop getting shy over it, and move through it.
Keiko spoke up. "What's happening to your nose? Oh whoah!" When he opened his eyes he saw he was having a nose bleed.
He suddenly gasped in utter embarrasement. "May I please be excused!?" He gasped and held his nose running out the door.