The threads that binds us
Air filtered through the smoke hazed room with difficulty, dancing across dust motes and sparking, only to die in the next moment in a blue white tendril making it's way to the ceiling. A lonely fly buzzed aimlessly around, sitting here for a moment, then rising to sit there. Then it impaled itself on a thread, body twitching wildly as the wings were sheared clear off. The still moving pieces fell to the floor, writhing madly in the throes of a death that had already occurred. Yohji took a long moment to watch it, lazily evaluating every move before his eyes flicked back to their previous position.
The wire that holds us
Anything can be dangerous, anything can kill. The multi-colored strands that crisscrossed the room like some crazed spider's web shimmered in a stray sun beam, silently agreeing with him. It's the spider's web, and I'm the spider, sitting here so complacently ... or am I the fly? Trapped in helpless stasis, waiting for the menace that hovers just beyond sight. Habit made him glance over his shoulder, sighting for the enemy that existed only in his mind. It was a neat trick when one can't move for the threads woven about his still form.
A slice that ends us
Slowly he centered himself, weaving the bands of control tightly around himself, locking the bad things in. Control was the key. Control was the one factor that made him different from his fellow assassins. Omi and Ken, though competent, were still too young to have mastered control of their own emotions. Aya had walled himself away in a prison with no window and no bars, locking everything away. And when he broke free ... it would be worse than all of them combined. Yes, poor Aya-kun doesn't realize that not giving in is not the same as not bending ... Thread bends but does not give. To give is to break under the stress. Control ... ? He tested the bonds. In control.
A tie that breaks us ...
And with that, Yohji stood, shattering the threads.
Forever more ...