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His father’s death comes as a shock. His father who had only been abroad for six years; who was due to come home in four more. His father who was not particularly diligent at writing home but would infrequently send short little notes and small gifts. Kazuma has a Western-style wooden sword, a box to keep little things in, and, remarkably, a Western pocket watch. His mother has several broaches and other pieces of jewellery. Despite the lack of long letters it is obvious that his father hasn’t forgotten about them. He was always thinking of his family back home; he was always going to come home. Except now he isn’t.As much as Kazuma understands it was some illness that took his father’s life. Something he’d caught in a Western country that was never going to be as clean as Japan. Kazuma is fourteen now and he tells himself that he understands, that it’s just the product of terrible luck, but he’s not quite sure he believes it. He already knows that somehow, some way, he must go to Great Britain and find the truth, even if that truth is only what he already knows. He hides in the garden, behind the bushes, clutching his childish toy sword close and crying, angrily, silently. He can’t weep in front of his mother; he can already see the strain she suffers under. He doesn’t want to add to that. He must be strong. He must somehow support her if only by being a good son and not causing her any trouble. He will study hard, he will not cause her worry, he will make her proud and, eventually, he will become the sort of success that will ensure that she will be able to live comfortably for the rest of her days. But between his brave resolution and determination to be good, he still can’t help hearing parts of broken conversations, that go on behind closed doors. He sometimes finds that he comes home and hears his mother speaking harshly to someone or other. He tells himself that he won’t listen but he does anyway. It’s hard not to when he hears his mother sounding both angry and heartbroken. From the scattered conversations Kazuma starts to understand that his mother is arguing with emissaries sent from the Asougi clan over the recovery of his father’s body. He’s rarely thought much of his extended family, but now, there is a level of suspicious formality in the messengers that they seem to keep sending. It worries him. And any time he dares to ask his mother about it she seems so very worn and lost. Eventually it comes out that they are being forced to move out of their home. Not that they are being asked to move into the main Asougi compound either. Instead, they are being thrown out, because this house was granted as a residence because a cousin to the clan head had need of it. Kazuma doesn’t really understand the details that are formally presented to his mother but it seems like there is little to be done. “Can’t we- this is father’s house! How can they make us leave?”“Kazuma.”“Mother?”“We don’t have a choice.” There’s something so forlorn in the way she says it that it quells all his hot-headed anger. “Why?”“This house was granted to an Asougi son.”“But I’m an Asougi son!”“But not yet of age.” She smiles sadly at him and brushes his hair back from his face. So they move. They live in a much smaller house without a peaceful garden. They rent from a landlord who tries to flirt with his mother, who is constantly turned down, and yet somehow seems quite happy to be told off. Kazuma is relieved that they are coping, but he notes that his mother is meticulous with managing the household expenses, and that she stays up late into the night sewing. Their landlord actually helps them to sell the small stitched purses and handkerchiefs, and Kazuma comes to understand that they are surviving off his mother’s savings and the items she sells.Soon he will be able to support them, Kazuma tells himself, but time is not on their side.His mother starts to tire easily. She stays up sewing still but not for nearly as long. Some nights Kazuma sees her stop with a mutter of annoyance that she can’t see clearly enough anymore. It wears her down and right now there is nothing he can do to help. Eventually she can’t hide her sickness from Kazuma anymore. When Doctor Mikotoba finally visits them Kazuma finds out that the delay has been due to the fact that he had no idea where they had moved to. His family, his father’s family, had been entirely dismissive of Doctor Mikotoba’s enquiries. But now the doctor is here at least his mother will be able to recover… won’t she? At the funeral his extended family doesn’t even send a representative, and Kazuma remembers a half-heard conversation between his parents that suggested that the honour and glory of the Asougi clan had long ago faded. It would explain their dishonourable behaviour. Only a degenerate family would think to abandon a widow and child. He still doesn’t understand what logic, if any; they could possibly have thought would be on their side. Apart from some legal statute that meant that they could be thrown out of their home…. It can’t be right though, he’s sure there must have been some trickery involved. A home given to the use of an Asougi son, no matter how removed from the line of succession, would still be the home of an Asougi grandson. The thought strikes him that, if he had not been born, or perhaps had been a daughter instead of a son, then they could have forced his mother to leave anyway. But those would be old rules, things written to prioritise sons with families, who needed provision. And anyway, he is his father’s son, so even if there was some archaic wording written on some old parchment there is no reason they should have had to leave. But he was not yet of age by some arbitrary number and that cruel detail had been used against them. And thus some corrupt lawyer somewhere had earned his fee. Still, when Doctor Mikotoba offers to take him in, Kazuma wants to refuse. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help your father. Will you let me help you instead?”“Thank you, Doctor Mikotoba but-““Kazuma, I know you are on your own in the world now. Please let me help.”“You shouldn’t have to! They shouldn’t have thrown us out! They-“ Doctor Mikotoba’s hands on his shoulders steady him and Kazuma hangs his head. “Why? Why did they….”“As I understand it they were legally within their rights to reclaim… your home.” Not long after Kazuma is surprised and delighted to find that Doctor Mikotoba has every intention of funding his university education. This is more than Kazuma had dared hope for and he is at a loss to express his gratitude. Doctor Mikotoba lays a hand on Kazuma’s shoulder and smiles at him encouragingly. “So, we should probably start to think about what you’d like to study-““Law.”“Law? Well, that’s decisive.”“I’m going to study law and… and… nobody is going to use the legal system to cheat me out of anything ever again.” Of course once that other letter arrives, detailing the truth of his father’s death, the fact that Kazuma had decided to study law already is doubly useful. In fact, it’s a suitable excuse to give to anyone who asks. Nobody else other than Doctor Mikotoba need know of any other reason. His father? He can speak of openly. But his mother and all she suffered through? It feels, even now, too raw, too sacred for Kazuma to speak aloud to anyone; it is a painful, private, whisper that he shares now only in the silences when he visits her grave.