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Doing something “just for fun” was a concept that Saiki understood, in theory. He liked poorly made video games and B movies. He enjoyed reading books for pleasure and doing private karaoke sessions.
Saiki never sucked at anything. Well, he couldn’t play instruments, but he could trick anyone into thinking he could, so that didn’t count. Saiki could draw anything with perfect precision. He could sing with perfect pitch. He never missed a move in a rhythm dancing game.
That is, until he lost his powers.
He sat in art class with a pencil held between his fingers, staring in frustration at the blank piece of paper before him. Then he glanced at the bowl of fruit on the table. Still life drawing. Just draw what you see. Should be simple, Saiki thought, cursing his trembling hands.
“What’s the matter, boo?” The chirpy voice startled him, even though Aiura had been sitting next to him the whole time.
Saiki sighed, then took a look at the sketchbook in Aiura’s lap.
He didn’t understand why Aiura insisted upon her little hobbies–dancing, painting, playing the drums–when she objectively sucked at all of them. It looked like she sucked at drawing, too. The bowl of fruit looked more like a flat half moon. The banana, a weird, fat snake. The apple was too round, the orange too lumpy.
“I love still life day!” Aiura said, perhaps noticing that Saiki was staring at her drawing. “It’s peaceful, ya know? Reminds me that, like, art is all around us!” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Kinda corny, I guess.”
“I’m not good at it.” Saiki muttered, still frozen by perfectionism. His pencil hovered over the surface of the paper, waiting for Saiki to give it the go ahead to start creating.
“So?” said Aiura. “It’s okay to do something for fun, even if you suck at it!” Aiura held her paper up. “I know, it sucks. I still like it.”
“It’s not as fun when you suck.”
Aiura waved her hand. “Naw. Sometimes sucking at something makes it even more fun. You need to loosen up, babe.”
He didn’t understand how that could possibly be true, but he couldn’t turn in a blank piece of paper for an art assignment (at least not again). So he let his pencil fall to the paper and moved his hand. One stroke down. The shaking in his hand stopped as he continued sketching the shapes of the bowl, the fruit, the cloth draped over the table.
“It’s good,” Aiura said when he finally lifted his pencil away.
Saiki smiled and looked at her. “Really?”
“No,” Aiura laughed. “But you seemed to enjoy yourself. And that was cute.”
“Shut up,” Saiki said, feeling warmth on his cheeks. Somehow, embarrassment and pride coexisted there in the blush on his face. Being powerless was uncomfortable, but maybe there was something kind of fun about this.