A Little Black Box
The stone floor was cold. It was even colder at night.
No snow would fall in the desert. But winter still found its way within his confinement cell.
There were no people to bother him, but he did not have his books either. His uncle was dead. His father had yet to appear before him.
The cell had no windows. The sun, the moon, and the stars were denied him. He could not tell the difference between night and day. It was as if time stretched on endlessly in this dungeon.
He could not allow himself to fall asleep again lest his control slip once more. So he ignored the beast's whispers and focused his thoughts on other things.
All he had was the stone, the daydreams, and memories.
This winter promised to be a long one.
.
.
He didn't mind it when the kunoichi told him stories of her childhood home. Or how she would complain about the sweltering heat.
She'd compare her living conditions within the village walls to her own. She was especially excited to talk about the people there. She'd called them her comrades. Friends. Family.
The kunoichi would joke that she could get the tan that she'd always wanted, all year round, if she lived here amongst the dunes.
And then she'd turn around and speak wistfully of the asphalt streets of her neighborhood, molten because of the heat haze. Of the cool shade that the tall trees offered after a hard day of work. Of the little open space near the hospital that one needed to cross in order to reach the playground.
He'd perked up at the mention of the playground. Which one was better, he'd asked. This one, or the one in her village? And were the children there nice?
The kunoichi had laughed, but it didn't sound as happy as he expected. It was more amused.
She told him that children were the same almost everywhere.
Children were hopeful. Children were honest. Children were cruel.
Maybe it was this conversation that got him thinking that he wanted to grow up as soon as possible.
Or maybe it was because of her.
He told her as much.
She shook her head and said that she wanted him to live a normal life as a child. While he still had the chance.
But he didn't even know what a normal childhood was like. He wasn't sure that he wanted such a thing. If it meant that he would never meet her, he would gladly disregard what was normal in favor of her presence.
He didn't dare say this aloud, however. He did not want to upset her. So he stayed silent and quietly accepted her hair ruffle. Enjoying the feel of her fingers on his head.
.
.
Sincerely, although confinement grew ever colder, he hoped that she was doing well.
As he lay curled on his side, he wondered if snow had begun to fall in her village. Living in that country seemed like a challenge in itself. In comparison, the desert was much more constant. Predictable. He couldn't imagine having to deal with the weather patterns she'd described. Living at the mercy of nature's whims.
His palm had bled several times now from gripping the stone so tightly. It reminded him that he was indeed still alive when the silence became oppressive.
Swallowing a scream, he shifted positions. He could feel the chill all the way to his very soul. His determination had severely dampened.
Darkness surrounded him from all sides. No way out.
His eyes drooped shut.
No, not to sleep. But to imagine pink strands illuminated by the moonlight.
If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel her feather-light lips on his forehead once again.
.
.
It was on the night before she left that she revealed her affiliation, under the cover of night and the playground slide.
When she told him where she hailed from, he hadn't expected it to be so far. When he thought about the distance between the two villages, ever widening with time and uncertainty, he felt even more lonely than before.
Because she was born at the tail end of the third secret war, she could only smile sadly.
Different cultures and beliefs will inevitably clash. Clans had been at war since time immemorial. Years of scars and the flow of blood could not simply be erased. Her own generation, despite striving for peace, was faced with overwhelming evidence to the contrary in the belief that the human mind could be moved by facts and reason.
Each village had its own share of darkness, she said. Peace could only hold for so long.
What was fighting in the war like, he asked.
The kunoichi considered this.
"Like living in constant, heightened fear."
And then she gently told him that at one point, their villages had been enemies. That the alliance only came about near the end. That in reality, her movements were being closely monitored, and they would no doubt probe him for signs of brainwashing after she left.
She asked him if he still trusted her.
Was there any doubt? Of course he did. And he always would.
His resolve hadn't wavered, even when she left him at the playground entrance at dawn. It stood strong in the face of his deceased uncle's prodding. And it would continue to hold as time passed and tomorrow became today.
.
.
His heart froze when he was released from that dark cell at last. Much more had changed within the village than he'd initially thought.
Until now, he had not given a single thought to his father, the most powerful shinobi in the village. He did not think about the consequences of his meetings with the kunoichi, or his own loss of control. He only cared for his own desires and fantasies.
Spring had finally returned to the desert. But with the new formal edict, foreigners had been continuously turned away at the village gates. Which meant the merchant caravan he'd planned for would also be refused entry.
He would lose his chance to meet with the kunoichi for good.
No.
After months of waiting and dreaming and longing, of reading books and deep meditation, he would not stand for this. He didn't care if he would be punished even more harshly afterwards for it. If he did not do something, if he did not catch even a glimpse of emerald eyes he would go mad.
Confrontation with his father was out of the question. His own life was hanging in the balance.
Yet he could not just sit down and accept defeat after suffering for an entire year. Hungering for her presence.
He pressed his fingers to his own forehead. Faint remembrance of that innocent and tender kiss helped him make a decision.
It was time for another gamble. Another leap of faith.
He didn't even know for sure if she was a part of the merchant caravan's guard detail this year. He only had a desperate prayer, and a slim chance.
The boy needed to cross over those walls that separated him from her, no matter what it took.
TBC...