Disclaimer: I certainly do not own Gakuen Alice.
The Sewing Scissors
The sewing scissors gleamed. Shiny. Pretty. They were a symbol of the world her mother whirled through, one that the child had yet to enter but secretly admired greatly. Determined, she inched her hand closer and closer. It was just her luck the sewing basket had been left out on the table, rather than the high shelf the five year old couldn't reach by herself.
She hadn't believed her luck when she first entered the dining room. There atop the dining room table, lying open in all its glory, was the sewing box. Glinting in the light, on top of the ribbons and thread, was her mother's sewing scissors. She had gazed longing at them each time her mother brought out her box to repair a vestment or make one of her own creations. In her mother's presence, the child knew she was forbidden to touch the sewing box or its contents. However, now …. now was a rare opportunity indeed. She had left her mother upstairs, and her grandfather most likely was rocking on the outside porch. No one was around, and it was the perfect chance to strike. Operation Sewing Scissors had formed in her mind, and its commencement was carried out immediately. She scooted under the table, dodging the legs of the chairs until she reemerged on the far side of the room, away from the door.
Climbing up one of the chairs and crawling to the center of the table left her moments away from achieving her goal. Her fist closed around the heavy metal scissors, and she relished the moment. She had achieved her goal, she had outsmarted the grown-ups, she had become ruler of the Sewing Scissors, she had…
"What do you think you're doing, baka?" came a familiar voice tinged with contempt. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with scissors? Especially a klutz like you?"
A little boy regarded her steadily with ruby eyes, his line of vision just clearing the top of the table where the girl was examining her prize.
"Natsume! Have you come to play?" The little girl haphazardly threw her arms in the air, with her prize clutched tightly in her hand. The scissors glinted dangerously in the light.
Unfortunately for her, her mother entered the dining room shortly after the little boy.
"Mikan! What have I told you about playing with my sewing box?" exclaimed Yuka, her grin fading from her face as she took in the scene before her. Her daughter froze, the scissors still held high in the air. Before Mikan could register the need for an escape plan, Yuka had placed the scissors back in the sewing basket and scooped her daughter off the table. The basket was closed with an official snap and whisked away to its far off place on the shelf.
Sighing, Yuka turned to face the five year old. Shaking her head with exasperation, she looked down at the little girl who was refusing to make eye contact.
"Alright you two, go off and play for a little while. Aunt Kaorou and I have some things to catch up. And Mikan, we'll talk about this later." Yuka ruffled her daughter's hair before heading towards the front porch.
As she followed Natsume towards the door, Mikan spared one final glance at the top shelf where the sewing basket peacefully sat. The prize was lost, but the day was not. For a few perfect moments, she had held the scissors in her grasp. Maybe there would be a next time, when she would be able to use them with the same certainty and skill as her mother. Maybe.