4th Arrow [Broadcast Mind]
You sit there at the table, still a young child, face screwed up in concentration, eyes focused behind your large glasses, as you work the needle through the thread. White and blue fabric is spread out on the table in front of you, along with various other sewing supplies.
Behind you, an elderly man watches for a moment, clad in his own white outfit, a smile on his face, before he moves closer. A hand on your head causes you to look at him, pausing the in-and-out movement of the needle and thread in your hand, and you match his smile.
"That looks wonderful, Uryuu."
And your smile beams. "Thank you, Sensei!"
Because nothing means more to you then the praise of the person most important to you.
Behind you, an elderly man watches for a moment, clad in his own white outfit, a smile on his face, before he moves closer. A hand on your head causes you to look at him, pausing the in-and-out movement of the needle and thread in your hand, and you match his smile.
"That looks wonderful, Uryuu."
And your smile beams. "Thank you, Sensei!"
Because nothing means more to you then the praise of the person most important to you.