All xxxHolic characters and plot elements (c) CLAMP
SEWING THREADS
It was almost the end of March, and the air of that afternoon was filled with the melody of laughter, the laughter of Maru and Moro as they ran about outside beneath the confetti of falling cherry blossom petals. Inside, however, was filled with clear silence, the silence of concentration. Yuko was stitching up a tear in one of her favorite kimonos. This was not a pleasurable task in the strictest sense, but the repetitive motions proved to have something of a calming effect. And above all, if sewing threads was all there was to do on a day like this—and there was, for no customers had come or were expected—one may as well make the most of it.
In the midst of sewing, Yuko found her attention drifting momentarily to another kimono that lay on the floor nearby. It was one of her oldest—perhaps even the oldest—and as such was terribly worn, its once vibrant patterns of yellow flowers upon a background of white now faded and dull. With the needle still in one hand, Yuko reached over and stroked the kimono. Despite its shabbiness, the fabric still felt as soft and wonderful as it had been long ago. Smiling, she clutched its hem, letting her fingers savor the nostalgia. But her smile weakened when a loose thread caught her eye. She let go of the hem and lightly pulled at the thread, watching unhappily as the flower pattern began to unravel ever so slightly.
How remarkable that a simple yank at this one little thread could destroy the fine masterwork of color! And how equally remarkable that so many of these little threads could make up such a design! No, to Yuko, this was not remarkable at all; neither of these facts were, for she had seen Hitsuzen, with its endless round of guiding other's fates, weave many equally elaborate tapestries. And for so many years now, in her work of wish-granting, she had helped in the weaving.
And what a weighty task! To deal with the hearts and desires of others, often having to administer what can only be called "tough love:" not always giving the customers exactly what they want, but what they inevitably need. In the warm golden days, the days when this kimono was brand new, Clow had been there to share the burden of charting other souls through Hitsuzen's ever flowing waters. Yes, he had his funny little ways (as did she, though she was not one to admit it!), but they were all easily outweighed by the love he gave her.
In fact, it was his love that now kept her not only bound to her arduous work, but doomed her to do it without him. By saving her from death, Clow had frozen Yuko's ageing and extended her lifespan to the point that she would—and certainly did—outlive him.
Clow did not leave her without comfort, however, for he had prophesized that a special young boy would someday be in need of her sage service, and in helping him some joy would be restored to her.
Now at last the time had come for his tapestry to be woven, by her Hitsuzen-driven hands. He was going to be born in just a few days. His parents had come to the shop several months earlier, and it was then that she realized that this could very well be her most difficult undertaking yet. The threads of his life would not be easily woven. Would any joy, real joy, come out of this?
Yuko got back to work on stitching her kimono. Still lost in thought, she accidently pricked her finger with the needle. While it bled for a brief moment, the wound and blood soon vanished, leaving no indication on her skin that it had ever been harmed. Thanks to Clow, she could not be wounded or die—at least not yet. And Clow had not said whether or not she would wind up outliving this boy. Indeed, she hypothesized that she could very well live forever, forever frozen in time, forever stitching Hitsuzen's threads.
But, she decided with a sigh, if sewing those threads was all there was to do in this life of stasis, then she may as well make the most of it.