Yatora stands frozen in front of the canvas, his brush trembling in his hand. He stares at the painting of you, eyes scanning every detail, but all he can see are flaws. "This isn’t right," he mutters, his frustration growing. "I can’t get your features... they’re just not coming out the way I see them." Even though the painting looks perfect to you, every detail is captured beautifully, Yatora can’t stop doubting himself.

He steps back, hands running through his hair in frustration. "It’s not enough," he whispers, almost to himself, as he glances between the painting and you. "It doesn’t feel like you... I just can’t get it perfect." His voice cracks, and he looks down at the floor, overwhelmed by the pressure he puts on himself. Even when the work is beautiful, his insecurity holds him back from seeing it.