Thimble

(This drabble is almost six months old. I debated for a long time whether or not I should post it, but I've decided that it would be a shame to let writing go to waste.)


The teachers were scared. Scared of losing their jobs.

But Iruka had an idea.

...And the simplicity behind it was almost laughable. After all, they were just children. It was just a window.

He was in the middle of a lesson when an eerily cold wind busted the classroom door down and snow forced its way inside. The dubbed "geniuses" watched indifferently as their peers ran about frantically, some cowering in corners, and others, rushing off to eat the powdery white cold.

Naruto was among the first to gather a handful and shove it into his mouth, and he'd shivered visibly as it slid down his throat. Elbowing him out of the way, Kiba did the same.

Sakura and Ino huddled close together, linked at the arms, throwing insults down each other's backs. Distant and alone, Hinata watched them, shadowed by the craft cabinet above her head that had been abandoned in favor of the snow.

Then there was Shikamaru, too lazy to bother looking up for the cause of the commotion. And there was Sasuke, as well, who had placed himself far above his classmates' level of maturity.

Iruka watched Hinata and the two boys and wondered at all the pain they had suffered. Those three were the students that caved in on themselves…the students that preferred solitude.

But it did not matter. Within a few minutes he'd slammed the door firmly closed and dealt the class a good telling-off.

A half-hour into "quiet time", he discovered little people tugging at his sleeves, pointing out the window where a layer of frost had formed on the glass. He shooed them away, and then, acting on curiosity, pulled a thimble from his vest pocked. (It never hurt to be prepared.)

He strode to the window and began meticulously tracing swirls and etching complex snowflakes into the surface. When his muse had been sated, he turned back to the class only to find a room full of jealous stares.

An idea struck him and he called each of them up to collect the thimble, one by one. They drew with fervor, and when they were finished, his window appeared as a collage of nightmares and sweet thoughts colliding. (It was a collage of secrets, and of breakthroughs.)

When the other teachers arrived at the board meeting, battered and worried and angry with themselves, Iruka sat back and laced his fingers and smiled.

…It was so simple.

It was just a window.

Fin.