From Today's Me to Tomorrow's You

The year was 1999.

The park in Tokyo was abuzz with Sunday crowds taking advantage of the last week of summer vacation of the last century.

It was a pleasant day, all in all—even for a mellowed-out kitsune, who used to regard such shenanigans as dross.

Kaga reclined on the bench, arms crossed and legs crossed as well, her tails swishing to and fro idly, her ears flapping gently as they absorbed the noise.

The shriek and shouting of the children at the playground a short distance away, the buzz and murmur of the adults as they gossiped and chatted, and the honking and hooting of the traffic a block down the road made a discordant music.

Her pup, as she liked to call the boy, was lying on the grass, gazing up at the clear Japanese sky, a drawing and a bunch of crayons spread out on his left and a wooden sword on his right.

Which one did he like more?

Practicing his art or sharpening his blade?

Be more like his mother or his father?

He was stronger than his age let on—but thoughtful, too.

Guess it didn't matter in the end.

"Mom," he called out, his voice slightly squeaky, still full of the highs and lows from the changing timbre.

"Yes, dear?"

"Dad told me it will be the new century soon. Is it true?"

"Yes, dear, it's true."

"He said it will be the new millennium, too. What does that mean?"

"That means 1000 years would have passed since the last, son."

"Oh, wow. That's a long time, isn't it, mom?"

"We only lived through a fraction of it, but yes, it's very long."

"What do you think will happen, mom? Dad said people are hopeful for it. He said things will be better in the future."

She was never one for philosophy or math or anything esoteric or theoretical. But like the boy, his father liked to ponder, and she had become more and more like him as the years went by.

Something to be done about climate change. End of strife across the world. Cure for diseases.

These were future things they had discussed at length—although she listened more instead of weighing in. She was more cautious about these matters but never without a bit of hope.

If only for the children, that is.

She stood up and joined the boy, sitting on the grass beside him, the blades tickling her tails and calves.

"I can't speak for the future, but I will fight for it if needed."

That was more of a declaration to herself as opposed to a response to the boy. Her mate, idealistic as he was, would do the same, she was sure.

The boy looked at her, his eyes bright, his face still round with the fat of youth.

"Can I fight too, mom? I want to be as strong as you are!"

How naive, how innocent. How... cute.

She gently patted his soft mop of hair and then rubbed his ears.

"Only for the right reasons and only when you are ready."

He smiled, a smile she would remember always, no matter what happened.

"Yes! For you and dad! For all of us!"

A kid's promise, it was. But her son had never gone back on his word.

Perhaps the drawing and the blade were not mutually exclusive. After all, Musashi Miyamoto was as much a writer and painter as he was a swordsman.

"I'm sure you will be a great protector, son. I will teach you the things you need to know."

"And dad will, too?"

"Yes, of course."

"Yay!"

The boy embraced her, and she did the same.

"Thank you, mom! Oh... right. I want to show you my drawing, but I need to add something first!"

So he grabbed a crayon, and it didn't take long for him to make the finishing touches.

"Done! Here, take a look!"

The piece was as good as an eight-year-old could do. The one with the fox's tails and ears must be her, and the other one, the man in uniform, must be his father.

And in between, a boy holding a sword, which seemed to be hastily added.

A declaration, a promise, a message.

For himself and for his family. Maybe he didn't realize it, but Kaga saw the writing on the wall, as it were.

For tomorrow.

"I will treasure this, son."

And she held it close to her chest and chuckled.

"Do you like it, mom?"

"Yes, I do."

"Yay! Now, time to practice some more!"

"Don't overexert yourself, okay?"

"Okay, mom!"

He resumed his training, the sword moving slowly and deliberately.

The moves were sloppy and left too much opening.

But there was promise.

After a while, the exertion had started to take its toll on the small body.

Yet he would've kept going had she not stopped him.

He protested at first, but she would not have any of it.

He was still pouting when she had him resting on her lap, but being covered by her tails like a blanket did wonders. Soon, he had fallen asleep.

"Goodness. You're almost as stubborn as me," she whispered. "Not that it's a bad thing. You'll make a great warrior, just like your mother and father."

She kissed his forehead, and his lips curved into a small smile. The boy stirred but not much else.

Soon, he would outgrow her.

The turn of the millennium would see to that.

But for now, she was content to stay in the moment, knowing all the promises that tomorrow had.