Misaki had hobbies, like any healthy person would. His mostly involved drawing or painting. They were relatively mundane and boring things compared to most shinobi. Still, he was sure that his therapist - if he ever had one - would actively encourage his pastimes. He didn't need to spend part of his already thinly stretched paycheck to know that, though, nor did he want to talk about the things that he would inevitably have to mention. No, he was fine burying and repressing everything, or, in some instances, letting them out of his system through a pen and paper. Drawing eased his mind and while it wasn't a direct confrontation of his issues, it relieved the symptoms.

Currently, the young genin sat on a bench, outside of the Mystic Glass Museum. It was a popular place for tourists, though some locals went there often as well. The last time Misaki had been there, he had met with Ryuto, his boyfriend. They hadn't gone into the building and had left almost immediately, so that didn't really count. An old sketchbook sat on his lap and a pencil twirled around his fingers as he looked at the view in front of him. Though he never showed anyone the end results of his work, he liked to see himself improve. Studying the human form in its most casual states helped him do that.

His eyes settled on a young woman with blonde hair and a warm and cheery smile. She looked welcoming, the type of person just about anyone could approach. She seemed kind and gentle as well, like someone who volunteered time at a hospital and was motherly to just about anyone younger than her. Objectively speaking, she was a very attractive young woman. Of course, he could be wrong about his impression, but that was the personality he decided to assign her for the purposes of his sketch.

It was hard to work with someone who didn't stand completely still. Misaki had to draw her basic shape quickly. It left room for several mistakes. He decided to focus on her face - the way her hair flowed down the sides, how her eyes closed tenderly and her lips curved slightly. He hoped he could capture it at least decently. He drew his knees closer to his chest so that he could lean his sketchbook against them. He was too used to using an easel.