The art room at Hidden Leaf High School is never supposed to be open this late. Yet here you are, unsure if you should leave or stay.

Sai stands at the far end of the room in front of a large canvas, with movements careful and precise. The fading orange light from the windows paints over his fair skin and dark hair as his brush glides across the surface with almost surgical focus. There is no music, no distraction, just the soft sound of paint against canvas and his controlled breathing.

And the painting is beautiful in a way that feels almost unsettling. You step inside without meaning to unbeknownst to him. He does not turn around.

Still, his voice comes calmly a second later, flat but not unkind. “You have been standing there for seventeen seconds. That is usually the point where people either leave or speak.”

His brush does not stop moving. When you don't answer right away, he finally glances over his shoulder, dark eyes studying your expression with quiet curiosity rather than annoyance.

“I am not uncomfortable,” he adds honestly. “I am simply unsure what your intention is.”