[She's definitely watching him, trying her best to stay still even as she refuses to look away from what he's doing. There is a slight desire to give a little pull away as he admits to only having gotten the book recently.
But they're already deep into this, and she's sure he's trying his best.]
It's no different than sending children to nursery school when they're four or five.
[It's an attempt to reassure him that she's not judging him. But she realizes that nursery school and shinobi skills aren't the same sort of education.]
People tend to protect children where I come from. Keep things that might seem violent or harsh away from them until they're older. But maybe that means they learn too much, too old. As terrible as it can be to be unprotected, it can be even worse to be kept so sheltered everything is a shock.
[But hey, she's not judging his culture or were he comes from. she's just trying to find a common thread that links them together through their different experiences.]
（ she will feel a sense of pressure, beneath the blue glow. the heat, as he'd mentioned. there is not much actual pain in and of itself, with broken bones the tendency is for the surrounding tissue to hurt rather than the bone itself. his touch is light and firm but there is certainly a sort of gentleness to it that seems studied rather than innate.
(the truth is that he had it once, and put it away to become a man of akatsuki.)
the reassurance, perhaps, has the opposite effect. she is trying to normalize it, and while he does think of his world and his upbringing and his life as normal, he is still one who hopes for peace and for a place where children have no need of knives. he is silent a moment, and then his attention seems to refocus on her, red eyes meeting hers deliberately. ）
Clara-san... I appreciate your tact, but I do not need you to justify or sympathize with my world as it is. I am aware of its flaws.
（ he says that with deliberation, it is clear the words have been chosen with care. he has no desire to offend her, simply to make his stance clear. ）
[His words and the way he says them make her silent for a while. She just bites at her lip and watches the way he works at her arm, focusing on the strange pressure she's feeling rather than talking.
But as the blue glow begins to fade and the pressure lessens up a little, she's left looking over at him in concern. She wonders what he must think of her for trying to make sense out of where he's from. If he's insulted, she should apologize.]
Sorry, I just -
[she hesitates, glancing away.]
I just think that something can be flawed and still be good.
[Because if she doesn't think that way, she'll lose hope that she's able to be considered a good person at the end of the day. She's so, so flawed and broken. She will always try to find reason and justify other flawed things and their right to exist.]
（ he releases her, once he's finished, withdrawing deft hands back into his own space as if he had never touched her at all. it isn't entirely healed, but it should feel the tiniest bit better, the soreness and ache to the muscles eased off at least. he will never be truly skilled at this but it is more important, on these missions, that they have a healer than a man who can reach into minds and leave them a desolate wasteland.
realizing that his best function here may be healing over hurt is something he has not examined too deeply in himself. but turning away from the rack and ruin of what he knows, what he has honed himself for — he has not yet decided his feelings about it.
he does not look at her as he speaks, an oddly avoidant tactic. he generally has no difficulty with meeting the gazes of others, it is a question of whether or not they will meet his. ）
And you are not incorrect to think that. I am aware that my village has its deficiencies, but it is still the home that I love.
（ he has spent nearly a decade denying all affection and allegiance for konoha. to be in a position to say it so freely, without wondering who he may have condemned by saying so, is an odd thing. freeing, almost. she cannot know the gift she has given him, nor is it evident.
he stands, then, and gives her a polite — if shallow — bow. ）
You have my gratitude for allowing me to work on your arm.
（ there is still the tea to be had, but at the very least he can move to one of the chairs for that. he turns to the tray, and sets about filling the little earthenware cups. ）
[The way he stays so calm and collected, even while turning gratitude toward her. She could point out that he's the one that's helped her, but she's so completely charmed by him that she doesn't have the heart to rebuke what he's said.
Instead, she turns her focus onto tea. Tea is nice and safe, it's something they both enjoy. It's a way to enjoy one another's company without any expectations of conversation beyond simple small talk.]
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no subject
But they're already deep into this, and she's sure he's trying his best.]
It's no different than sending children to nursery school when they're four or five.
[It's an attempt to reassure him that she's not judging him. But she realizes that nursery school and shinobi skills aren't the same sort of education.]
People tend to protect children where I come from. Keep things that might seem violent or harsh away from them until they're older. But maybe that means they learn too much, too old. As terrible as it can be to be unprotected, it can be even worse to be kept so sheltered everything is a shock.
[But hey, she's not judging his culture or were he comes from. she's just trying to find a common thread that links them together through their different experiences.]
no subject
(the truth is that he had it once, and put it away to become a man of akatsuki.)
the reassurance, perhaps, has the opposite effect. she is trying to normalize it, and while he does think of his world and his upbringing and his life as normal, he is still one who hopes for peace and for a place where children have no need of knives. he is silent a moment, and then his attention seems to refocus on her, red eyes meeting hers deliberately. ）
Clara-san... I appreciate your tact, but I do not need you to justify or sympathize with my world as it is. I am aware of its flaws.
（ he says that with deliberation, it is clear the words have been chosen with care. he has no desire to offend her, simply to make his stance clear. ）
no subject
But as the blue glow begins to fade and the pressure lessens up a little, she's left looking over at him in concern. She wonders what he must think of her for trying to make sense out of where he's from. If he's insulted, she should apologize.]
Sorry, I just -
[she hesitates, glancing away.]
I just think that something can be flawed and still be good.
[Because if she doesn't think that way, she'll lose hope that she's able to be considered a good person at the end of the day. She's so, so flawed and broken. She will always try to find reason and justify other flawed things and their right to exist.]
no subject
（ he releases her, once he's finished, withdrawing deft hands back into his own space as if he had never touched her at all. it isn't entirely healed, but it should feel the tiniest bit better, the soreness and ache to the muscles eased off at least. he will never be truly skilled at this but it is more important, on these missions, that they have a healer than a man who can reach into minds and leave them a desolate wasteland.
realizing that his best function here may be healing over hurt is something he has not examined too deeply in himself. but turning away from the rack and ruin of what he knows, what he has honed himself for — he has not yet decided his feelings about it.
he does not look at her as he speaks, an oddly avoidant tactic. he generally has no difficulty with meeting the gazes of others, it is a question of whether or not they will meet his. ）
And you are not incorrect to think that. I am aware that my village has its deficiencies, but it is still the home that I love.
（ he has spent nearly a decade denying all affection and allegiance for konoha. to be in a position to say it so freely, without wondering who he may have condemned by saying so, is an odd thing. freeing, almost. she cannot know the gift she has given him, nor is it evident.
he stands, then, and gives her a polite — if shallow — bow. ）
You have my gratitude for allowing me to work on your arm.
（ there is still the tea to be had, but at the very least he can move to one of the chairs for that. he turns to the tray, and sets about filling the little earthenware cups. ）
no subject
Instead, she turns her focus onto tea. Tea is nice and safe, it's something they both enjoy. It's a way to enjoy one another's company without any expectations of conversation beyond simple small talk.]