In the top right hand drawer of his dresser, in the back, behind a small collection of Guild-issued oddments, there is a small box.
It is an old box, but it is as polished and unmarked as the day its maker completed it. It is carved from ironwood, with a gleaming varnish, and a simple silver latch adorns the front to hold the lid closed.
When he is alone, he retrieves the little ironwood box from the back of his drawer. Sometimes he stands still, weighing it in his hands before opening it, but tonight he carries it with him, and sits down on the edge of the bed.
A gentle flick of his thumb releases the catch, and the lid opens soundlessly on delicate silver hinges. The interior is lined with black velvet. It is filled with memories.
Small black and white photographs, days from the past that he did not talk about. A young woman, tall and strong. The same woman, holding a newborn infant, looking serene. Him, holding the same infant, looking a little nervous and amazed. Him, and a little girl at his side, glancing only shyly at the camera as she clung to his hand.
Small objects accompanied the photographs. A coiled silk hair ribbon. A silver ring, embossed with vines. A small loop with a little bell and other amusing dangles, a baby girl's plaything. He lifted it from the box and held it in his fingers. Fragile. Delicate. The bell tinkled softly against his palm as he raised it to his lips and kissed it gently, before returning it to its place among the other memories.
He wore a quiet smile as he closed the box once more, and returned the little memories to the back of his drawer. For just a moment more he stood, gazing at the box, before finally sliding the drawer shut with the soft sound of well fitted wood.
Banichi turned and prepared himself for bed, still smiling.
~Fin~