n1: a bit OOC on the Fourth's part. My apologies.
disclaimer: disclaimed.
title: trebuchet needles
A needle though the fabric, a needle through the cotton, needle through the beads.
Repeat.
Yondaime pushed the needle through the brown fabric of the teddy bear, his eyes narrowed at the small rip that Alice had managed to create. It was on the face of the teddy, large and nearly impossible to miss by a normal person, let alone the small recluse.
He continued his motions.
Sewing was a man's sport. A needle in the hands of a woman created an air of fragility, of daintiness and of course-motherly repair. In the hands of a man? It could become a weapon. Destruction and reparation could come from the needle that he currently held.
A stain of red dropped onto the teddy.
Yondaime looked down, gazing down at his pricked finger. Nothing but an example of the destruction a needle from a man's hands. Nothing more or less. He continued to sew, making a note to clean the bear's secondhand wound, before gritting his teeth slightly.
Why was he fixing the bear?
Sewing in the hands of a man only led to destruction-the reparation came later. Look at the bear. Formerly a symbol of nothing more than a childlike innocence and ignorance, now it reeked with the stains of his violent life and benevolent hatred. The bear- that was Alice.
Yondaime tainted Alice.
The teddy dropped down to his desk, his hands coming up to hold onto his face as his fingers ran though his hair. A nearly choked scream-but-not-quite-a-scream-because-he-was-a-man, escaped from his lips and the needle clacked on the table. Why was he fixing the bear, why was he helping Alice? All that could come from him was hatred and impurity in all the sense of the word.
He couldn't help her. He couldn't offer her reparation without destruction.
Just ask that assistant of hers.
He, that boy Narumi, he could help her. Narumi could watch over her, he could guide her and assist her-as his position demanded- but more importantly, Narumi could help her remain out of the clutches of isolation.
He could not do that for Alice. Repairing her teddy- her soul- was the most he could do for her. The bear moved to his hand again and he began to sew.
A needle though the fabric, a needle through the cotton, needle through the beads.
This reparation was all he could do for her. He'd be sure to do it well.
