The art room was quiet except for the scratching of pencils on paper. Misaki Tanaka sat alone at one of the large tables, her sketchpad opened in front of her. The early morning sunlight coming through the windows, casting gentle shadows on the rows of half-finished art projects. Her hand moved fluently across the page, drawing smooth and almost perfect lines, but there was a tension in her movements—a stiffness that wasn't usually there.
Misaki paused, staring at her drawing, a half-finished sketch of a floral arrangement for the upcoming art exhibit at the cultural festival. Normally, art came to her naturally, each line flowing effortlessly from her hand on the page. But today, something was off. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get anything right. The flowers seemed lifeless, the details seemed half-hearted.
She sighed, frustrated. For weeks, she had felt blocked, unable to create anything she was truly proud of. And with the cultural festival approaching, the pressure was increasing. Everyone expected great things from her—after all, she was the top art student in the school. But the weight of those expectations began to suffocate her creativity.
The door to the art room creaked open, and Misaki glanced up to see Yuki Aoyama stepping inside, her guitar case slung over her shoulder. Yuki's quiet, reserved nature, meant she rarely ventured into places like the art room, but the two of them had formed a quiet friendship over the years—bonding through their shared connection to the arts, even if their mediums were different.
Yuki noticed Misaki's anxiousness at her sketchpad and hesitated. "Are you okay?"
Misaki forced a small smile, closing the sketchpad. "Yeah. Just… struggling with this piece for the festival. What about you? Practicing for the music performance?"
Yuki nodded, her expression soft and uncertain. "I've been practicing, but… I don't know if I'm ready. I don't usually perform in front of people. It's different when it's just me and my guitar."
Misaki nodded. "I get it. Art feels the same way sometimes. It's personal, you know? Putting it out there for everyone to see, it's hard."
Yuki walked over and sat beside her at the table, setting her guitar case down gently. For a few moments, they sat in silence, the air started to feel heavy with silence and tension in the air. They were dealing with their own creative struggles, but neither knew how to express it out loud.
After a long pause, Yuki spoke quietly. "What do you do when you're stuck? When nothing you make feels right?"
Misaki looked at her, surprised by the question. She hadn't expected Yuki to say the exact thing she had been grappling with. She leaned back on her chair, her eyes staring at the half-finished paintings and sketches scattered around the room.
"I don't know," Misaki admitted, in her voice soft. "I've been asking myself that same question lately. It's like… no matter what I do, it's not good enough. I keep trying to force something, but it just doesn't feel right."
Yuki bit her lip, playing with the strap of her guitar case. "Yeah. That's how I feel too. I keep playing the same song over and over, but it never sounds the way I want it to. It's frustrating."
Misaki smiled, finding a sense of comfort in knowing that Yuki understood her struggle. "Maybe that's the problem. We're both trying too hard."
Yuki tilted her head curiously, asking, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, maybe we're overthinking it," Misaki said, opening her sketchpad again and glancing down at the unfinished drawing. "Sometimes I get so caught up in making everything perfect that I forget why I love doing this in the first place. I love art because it lets me express myself, without worrying about whether it's good enough for someone else."
Yuki thought about that for a moment, her fingers gently sliding through the surface of her guitar case. "So, you're saying… we should focus on what we enjoy, not what people expect?"
"Exactly," Misaki said, "I think we both need to stop worrying about impressing people and just do what feels right for us."
Yuki hesitated, "But what if people don't like it? What if… what if I'm not good enough?"
Misaki smiled gently, her tone soft but firm. "You are good enough, Yuki. And even if people don't like it, that doesn't mean it's not worth doing. Art, whether it's music or painting, it's about expressing yourself. As long as you're true to that, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."
For the first time in a while, Yuki felt a sense of relief. Misaki's words made sense, and deep down, Yuki knew she was right. She had been so focused on her fears of performing that she had forgotten why she loved playing the guitar in the first place.
Yuki said, hesitating. "You're right. I guess I just need to remember that."
Misaki smiled, leaning forward slightly. "How about this—why don't we try working on something together? You play your guitar, and I'll draw. No pressure, no expectations. Just for us."
Yuki blinked, surprised by the offer. "You mean, right now?"
"Yeah," Misaki said. "Why not? Let's see what happens when we stop trying so hard."
After a moment of hesitation, Yuki smiled and nodded. "Okay. Let's give it a try."
Yuki pulled out her guitar off its case, her fingers lightly playing the strings as she tuned it. The sound filled the quiet room, as Yuki relaxed. As she began to play, Misaki opened her sketchpad once more, her pencil sliding across the paper without any hesitation. She wasn't focused on creating something perfect and overwhelming, just something that felt right to her.
The two of them sat together in silence, each lost in their own world of creativity. Yuki's soft, soothing music blended with the quiet scratch of Misaki's pencil on paper. The tension that had been in the air moments ago seemed to go away, replaced by a sense of calmness.
For the first time in weeks, Misaki felt the pressure lift from her shoulders. She wasn't worried about deadlines or expectations. She was just drawing, enjoying the process for what it was. And beside her, Yuki was doing the same—playing music not to impress anyone, but simply because she loved it.
As they both were lost in their world of creativities, Kaito wanders into the room, uninvited but curious. He looks over Misaki's sketches. "Not bad," he says casually. "But it could be cooler with some digital effects. You ever thought of mixing traditional with tech?"
"Tech? You mean like computers?"
Kaito grins, "Yeah. You've got a good foundation, but you can make it more imaginative, attractive, and appealing. Through what you ask? Of course, Art designer softwares.
Misaki blinks, confused. "How would that even work?"
"I dunno. But I could probably figure something out." So says The Lazy Genius.
"I mean," Kaito continued, sitting up a little straighter, "you're making things harder than they need to be. You're both amazing at what you do, whether it's drawing or playing guitar. The second you start worrying about whether it's good enough, you're killing the whole point of it."
Misaki crossed her arms. "So, what, we're just supposed to not care? That's your solution?"
Kaito shrugged, his expressions relaxed. "Not not care. Just… chill. Let it come naturally. You're overthinking because you're too focused on making everything perfect. Art isn't about that. It's about expressing yourself."
Yuki, who had been quietly listening, looked down at her guitar, listening to Kaito's words. "I guess… I have been focusing too much on whether people will like it."
"That's exactly it," Kaito said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. "If you stop worrying about impressing everyone and just enjoy the process, things will fall into place."
Misaki sighed, looking down at her sketchpad. As much as she hated to admit it, Kaito had a point. She had been so focused on creating the perfect piece for the art exhibit that she'd lost sight of why she loved drawing in the first place. But his laid-back attitude still annoyed her, how could someone be so talented and so nonchalant at the same time?
"What about you?" Misaki asked, narrowing her eyes at Kaito. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something for the festival? I haven't seen you lift a finger."
Kaito shocked, thinking in his head, "Déjà vu, I heard these words recently..... Well, who cares..."
Kaito grinned, unbothered. "I already did my part. The sound system's set up and ready to go. Took me, like, an hour. Now I'm just waiting for the rest of you to catch up, easy."
Kaito's natural talent and his ability to breeze through things effortlessly was frustrating, but they both knew he was right. He never seemed to stress about anything, and somehow, things always worked out for him.
For a while, the three of them sat in comfortable silence, Yuki playing her guitar, Misaki sketching, and Kaito leaning back, watching them with his usual lazy smile. There was no pressure, no looming deadlines, just a moment of shared creativity.
Kaito yawned, stretching his arms. "See? This is how it should be. No stress, just vibes."
Misaki shot him a joyful glare. "You really are impossible, you know that?"
Kaito grinned, unbothered. "Hey, it works, doesn't it?"
Yuki laughed softly, her music filling the room with a sense of calm. "Maybe we should listen to Kaito's advice sometimes."
As the melody continued and Misaki's sketch took shape, they all realized something important, sometimes, the key to overcoming these struggles wasn't about trying harder. It was about letting go and trusting the process. And in that shared space of creativity, they found new connections, one that leveled up their individual struggles and brought them closer as friends.
To be continued.....