A Little Black Box
She smiled sweetly at her little boy and scooped him right up.
His silver hair was every bit as spiky as his father's.
The man himself exited the house not a moment too soon, armed to the teeth. Ready for another long mission.
Intel gathering on a growing crime syndicate. In other words, business as usual.
She wished him good luck at the village gates. The little boy waved at his beloved father once more.
When he was out of sight, she took him shopping for new training equipment. He was a precocious child who loved learning, and she wanted to support that.
Later, they got ice cream and relaxed at the playground near the hospital.
While watching him gambol with some other children in the grass under the bright sunlight, her smile slipped for a fraction.
Her mind was troubled when she woke up this morning. It was usually sleep that granted her escape from the worries of the day, so this bothered her like nothing before.
She had a dream of the past on the previous night. And seeing her innocent little boy have fun in the trees made her recall it with more clarity.
That once, long ago...
She was still a child. And he, even younger than her.
Surrounded by sand, in empty playground.
Together in a private world that belonged only to the two of them...
She stood up from her perch on the swing. The boy was running back to her, begging for a snack.
Her musings on the past were pushed to the back of her mind in favor of her life in the present.
.
.
Last night, I had a dream of the past.
The pen paused, mid stroke.
Jade eyes blinked hard. The words on the parchment refused to focus.
He had no choice but to stop writing for now.
The unfinished letter was carefully folded and slipped inside the desk drawer. He would finish writing it tomorrow. Then, he would need to procure more envelopes from a store. The ink was running low, as well.
And once he finished the letter, it would go inside the special compartment in his luggage, never to be read. Never to see the light of day again.
Since when did he begin writing correspondence without sending them to anyone, he wondered. And why didn't he just stop, when technology had made so much progress and made everything more convenient these days.
Maybe it wasn't convenience he wanted, then. He wanted something that had been lost to him, and he could never find again.
A glimmer of light caught his eye.
A little obsidian cube winked at him from atop a printout. He'd finished typing a speech for his village leader, who was arriving tomorrow afternoon. The box had been acting as a very ineffective paperweight.
Reaching out for it, and rolling it in between his fingers was as automatic as breathing.
The Black Box theory.
His studies in philosophy during his younger years led him to learning this. It was a theory that could be applied to certain fields of science. It was used to describe things that could only be defined by their inner workings.
The cube in his hand was the ultimate example of the Black Box theory:
Nobody knew how it worked. Not even him. Just that it did, or was supposed to.
Even after all these years, he could never find the truth behind it.
Maybe it was a sign that it just wasn't meant to be.
.
.
As an adult, and an important political figure of his village, he had many responsibilities.
Traveling the world, never staying in the same place for long, returning to his village very rarely and only for important functions. He had met many people from all walks of life, advocating his village's interests and gathering support.
His relationship with his own people, and his siblings, was purely business, which worked fine for him. A diplomat such as he could not afford to put his roots down anywhere.
The war against the men in black cloaks and red clouds had been long and grueling, and nearly destroyed all of his hard work. In the end all of the shinobi of the world had come together to form a united front against this incredible threat. And they'd all prevailed.
So, a steady alliance between all the great shinobi powers was not such a far fetched idea anymore. One day, true peace would come, he was sure of it.
So why did he have this dream now, of all times...
Perhaps it was because of the paperback he'd recovered from his old bedroom back in the village a fortnight ago.
Mysteries of the Universe, vol. 2
It was very old and worn. He recalled reading it many times as a young boy.
During those times, he was very impressionable. He was thirsty for any information about the world beyond the village walls.
The future seemed very big, but time was limited. Events happened and there was nothing they could do about it. So he thought that it was inevitable that he would become a diplomat.
It was not a safe job. He'd clashed against rivals, enemies and acquaintances alike. In some battles he had emerged battered, yet victorious. In others, he could only recoup his losses and fall back. The battles themselves sometimes did not stay inside a meeting chamber. Dealing with shinobi was almost a guarantee that blood would be spilled.
The bottle of wine on the toilet seat had been a gift he'd received from one of the less violent meetings he'd attended.
He was not a drinker.
The expensive liquid was poured into the glass.
The smile on his face was purely nostalgic, even as the strange sadness pricked his chest.
What happened in the past stayed in the past. Those days of innocence were never to be found again. Those bloody battles in the turbulent period left their scars on his soul, but were gradually fading.
It was the little things that made him into the man he was now. Those little things would remain.
Several glasses later, he finally convinced himself that it was enough for him. The rest of the wine was poured down the sink drain.
.
.
This time, his work has taken him to the land of the samurai. The leader of his village, his older sibling, very nearly cemented a true alliance agreement with these warriors. Success rested on his ability to bring these two factions to peace at the summit that was to take place in three days.
This was the eighth time he had seen snow, and the cold still disagreed with him.
It settled over his bed sheets. It clung to his clothes. It weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Just by living, the sadness has piled up. Like the cold.
During the past couple years, he kept moving forward as he always did, wanting something. Searching for something. The emotion encompassed him, almost life threatening. As if a noose that hung limply around his neck was slowly tightening.
And he just kept working, traveling to many different places he was required to go as an ambassador, without ever knowing where that feeling was coming from.
One day, he opened his eyes and accepted the truth.
His heart was losing its motivation as the days passed, and there was nothing he could do about it.
That feeling he'd held onto for so long, the feeling of desiring something. The feeling that helped him step forwards through the darkness without fear.
It was gone.
The reflection of his darkened jade eyes in the mirror did not lie.
And the mirror told him that he was nearly at his limit.
.
.
The morning of the summit in the land of the samurai.
As usual, he stood with many other important people on equal footing.
His village leader sat in the designated chair. He stood two steps behind and one step to the right of her.
At the sound of the gong, another meeting that decided the fate of millions had begun.
The future seemed very big, but time was limited. Events happened and there was nothing they could do about it.
But he could only do what he could. Nothing more.
.
.
Last night, he had a dream. A fleeting dream about the past.
In it, he was still a child.
The playground was wide and empty.
Sitting side by side, under the cover of clouded skies.
On the very cusp of reality and something else.
Witnessing a hidden truth of life known only to her, a hidden truth which he barely understood.
Immersed in something that he could only describe as magical.
Both swings were occupied, heedless of the weather.
And on one of those days, he'd made a promise.
That he would, without a doubt... be by that person's side forevermore.
.
.
A Little Black Box
The End
Thank you for reading.
TBC... in the "sequel" (which begins in the next chapter, lol)