Cold Light - Chapter 1 - Part 3

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The exam ended in the morning, and just after one in the afternoon, Keishi returned from cram school. He entered the garden through the northern service gate close to the street. During the exam, his mind kept wandering back to his parents' argument, so he honestly couldn’t remember what he had written on the test paper. In any case, the results were bound to be disastrous.

As he walked along the stone path with his head down, he felt sweat trickle down his cheek. When he wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked up, he noticed a child standing in front of the back door. The child wore a blue, yet dirty, baseball cap and had a thin body. His large eyes were staring straight at Keishi.

Could this be the stranger’s child his father had mentioned? He looked much younger than Keishi had vaguely imagined. His mother had said he was poorly behaved, so Keishi had assumed he was around middle school age, but in reality, the child had the stature of a second or third grader.

Poor kid, Keishi thought. Did he know that no one welcomed him, that he wasn’t wanted? The child lowered his head in a dejected manner, almost as if he was aware of it. Forgetting his mother’s warning, Keishi approached the small figure and knelt down in front of him.

“What’s your name?”

The child slowly raised his face and looked up at Keishi.

“Tohru Takahisa,” he replied.

“Tohru, huh? Hello,” Keishi said with a smile.

The child bit his lip shyly and then smiled brightly. Keishi couldn’t help but smile back at the adorable expression. His right hand instinctively reached out and gently patted the child’s head, along with the baseball cap.

"Who are you?"

The sound of clogs clattering and the sliding door at the back entrance creaked open. Fujishima quickly stood up, turning his back to the child, and dashed into the overgrown garden. He had spoken to the child despite his mother’s warnings to stay away. He didn’t know who had come to the back entrance, but there was a chance they might report him to his mother.

He was terrified—terrified of incurring his mother’s wrath. He had come to realize that he was nothing more than an object to fulfill his mother’s desires, a favorite doll, and not someone she genuinely loved. Even if that love was a "fake," the pretense of being loved was essential to him. If he lost even that, he would be utterly alone in the world.

Fujishima stayed in his room until dinner, not daring to step outside, tormented by regret for speaking to the child and possibly giving his mother a reason to be angry. When he descended to the dining room at seven o'clock for dinner, his mother was already seated at the table. The entire time, he was on edge, unable to eat properly, fearing that at any moment she would bring up the incident from earlier. But as dinner drew to a close and his mother’s expression remained unchanged, he began to think that maybe she didn’t know. Feeling relieved, he rose from his seat as the meal ended, only to be stopped by his mother calling out, "Keishi-san," nearly causing his heart to stop.

"You didn’t have much of an appetite today. Are you feeling alright?"

He tried to smile, though he knew his cheeks were tense.

"It’s been hot lately..."

His mother’s brow furrowed slightly. "Let’s have something lighter tomorrow. But no matter how little appetite you have, you must eat. You’re already a light eater, and if you don’t eat, you’ll get sick."

"Yes, I understand."

He left the dining room as if fleeing and collapsed onto his bed as soon as he returned to his room. He was relieved that his mother seemed unaware and told himself that he needed to eat properly tomorrow to avoid drawing any suspicion.

He wondered who the child would eat with. His father had taken meals alone in his room ever since Fujishima could remember, and he had overheard him refer to the child as he was an object. It was hard to imagine them dining together in harmony.

The separate annex where the child was staying had once been a storehouse and was now little more than a storage space. Fujishima had rarely set foot there, and his memories of the place were of cluttered wooden boxes and old furniture in a dark, damp atmosphere. He wondered if anyone could really live in such a place, but knew there was nothing he could do.

After that first encounter at the back entrance, Fujishima didn’t see the child again. His mother never mentioned the other child living in the house, and Fujishima began to wonder if he was even still there.

The second time they met was in mid-September, about half a month after the start of the second school term, when a typhoon brought rain throughout the day, and by nightfall, the storm had intensified with strong winds. As Fujishima tried to read, the incessant rattling of the windows made it difficult to concentrate, and he finally gave up, turned off the light, and crawled into bed.

He had just counted the fifth sheep when he heard a creaking sound, as if a door was being opened. Startled, he sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. In the dim light, where darkness still prevailed, he noticed that the door, which he was sure he had closed, was now slightly ajar. Neither Tamaki nor even his mother would ever enter his room without knocking.

"Who’s there?"

There was no reply. The thought that it might be a burglar flashed through his mind, sending a wave of panic through him. He considered telling his mother, but that would mean leaving his room and getting closer to the intruder. Holding his breath, Fujishima stared intently at the narrow, dark gap.

Then he saw fingers on the door, down low, small hands. Just as he thought, "Could it be?" the door creaked open further, and the small figure was revealed. Realizing who it was, Fujishima felt a wave of relief wash over him, and his tense shoulders relaxed. The child stood half-hidden behind the door, peeking into the room but not entering, as if waiting to see what Fujishima would do. Fujishima got out of bed and approached the child, worried he might run away, but the child stood still, staring up at him with large eyes.

After confirming that no one was in the hallway, Fujishima softly said, "Come in."

The child stepped into the room, and Fujishima closed the door behind them. When he turned on the room’s main light, the child winced and squeezed his eyes shut, as if the sudden brightness hurt. The small body was soaked, clothes clinging to his skin, and water dripped from his hair and the hem of his clothes.

"Your name is Tohru, right? What are you doing up so late?"

Kneeling in front of the child, Fujishima gently asked.

"I want to talk to my dad," the child muttered.

"This is the second floor. Your dad’s room is downstairs," Fujishima explained. Because of his wheelchair, Fujishima's father had a study and bedroom on the first floor. His mother’s room was also on the first floor, but on the opposite side of the house. The servants were on the first floor as well, making Fujishima the only one using the second floor. The child bit his lip and turned away from Fujishima, heading straight for the door. Sensing that he was about to go downstairs, Fujishima hurried to stop him. It was past midnight.

"It would be better to talk to him tomorrow, at an earlier time. Your dad might already be asleep," Fujishima suggested.

The child turned back and shook his head, muttering, "No."

"You don’t want to wait? But if you wake him up now, it might bother him," Fujishima reasoned.

Tohru shook his head again, lips pressed tightly together. "This is troublesome..." Fujishima sighed, and as he did, tears began to well up in the child’s large eyes, quickly spilling over. Covering his face with both hands, the child started to cry, and Fujishima, flustered, kept apologizing.

"I-I didn’t mean to be mean. I really thought your dad might be asleep already..."

No matter how much he apologized, the child wouldn’t stop crying. Fujishima was at a loss.

"I want to see my dad!" Tohru cried out, his voice trembling. The shout echoed through the room, and Fujishima’s heart pounded with fear that it might reach his mother downstairs.

"Please, don’t shout. Just wait until tomorrow, then go to his room earlier. That way, you can have a proper talk," Fujishima pleaded.

The tear-filled eyes glared up at him, making him catch his breath.

"If the woman in the kimono finds out, she’ll get mad."

The child’s lips were bright red from being bitten, as they tried to hold back his tears.

"She told me never to come to this house, and if I did, she’d kill me. That old woman..."

There was only one person in the house who always wore a kimono. Fujishima recalled his mother’s voice, full of harsh insults directed at his father. He didn’t even want to imagine what kind of words she had used with this child.

"I want to go back to my mom! I hate this!"

The child squatted down and burst into tears. This child had been brought here purely out of spite, as a means to torment his mother. There was nothing good about being brought to a place like this. Children, like himself and Tohru, always ended up as victims of their parents' and adults’ egos.

Fujishima gently patted the child’s head, knowing it was a mere consolation but unable to stop himself from doing it. Tohru looked up with a face twisted in distress and then suddenly clung to Fujishima with a force that made him lose his balance and fall to the floor. His nightclothes dampened as a sour smell wafted up, making him feel queasy. Despite the stench, he couldn’t bring himself to push the child away and struggled to disentangle himself without appearing unnatural.

"Do you want to go back to your mother?" Fujishima asked, and Tohru, still gripping his right hand, nodded silently.

"I’ll talk to your father about it tomorrow, okay? But for now, let’s get you back to your room."

Tohru fiercely shook his head.

"No! I don’t want to! I don’t want to!"

Fujishima didn’t know what to do with the child, who was now obstinately resisting. He couldn’t forcefully drag the child back, given how strongly he opposed the idea. For a moment, he considered letting the child stay in his room for the night, but there was only one bed, and the wet, smelly clothes were a problem. As he pondered why the child smelled so bad, he remembered that while the separate annex had a toilet, there was no bathroom.

Even though he was dealing with a child, Fujishima hesitated to ask directly, thinking it might come across as rude.

"Tohru, um... do you take a bath every day?"

Tohru gripped Fujishima's hand tightly before slowly looking down and shaking his head.

"How long has it been since you last took a bath?"

"I don’t know," Tohru answered in a dismissive tone.

"Two days? Three days?"

"I don’t remember."

After a brief pause, Tohru added in a small voice, "I haven’t bathed since I got here. Everyone says I smell bad."

Tohru had arrived during the middle of summer vacation. Fujishima was so shocked that he was momentarily speechless. This was Japan, not some remote jungle. Fujishima gripped Tohru’s hand tightly, making the child look up.

"Come with me."

Tohru seemed to think he was being sent back to his room and resisted, planting his small feet firmly on the ground.

"You don’t have to go back to your room. But let’s go take a bath," Fujishima said, leading Tohru by the hand and quietly sneaking to the bathroom without making a sound. While there was a large bath on the first floor, there was also a smaller bathroom on the second floor, usually reserved for guests and rarely used.

In the changing room, Tohru undressed, revealing a frail body with a disproportionately large head and eyes that made him look almost alien. While Tohru washed himself, Fujishima sat in the changing room, lost in thought. The child's discarded clothes gave off a rotten stench even from a distance.

As he listened to the sound of the shower, Fujishima wondered what he was doing. He had been explicitly told not to interact with this child, yet here he was, holding hands and even helping with a bath. He shuddered at the thought of how his mother would react if she found out. He could almost see her in a hysterical rage, and the prospect terrified him, but it also saddened him. No matter how much she might despise the child, denying them even the chance to bathe was cruel.

Suddenly, Fujishima heard footsteps approaching from the hallway. His back stiffened, and his heart raced. The footsteps stopped right outside the bathroom.

"Is someone in there?"

His mother’s voice from outside the door made him tremble uncontrollably.

"Y-yes," he stammered, quickly shoving the child’s clothes under the sink.

"Keishi? What are you doing at this hour?"

Terrified that she might open the door to the changing room at any moment, Fujishima desperately tried to maintain his composure.

"I, um, I was sweating, so I decided to take a shower."

The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds but felt like an eternity to Fujishima.

"I see. I thought I heard someone talking, so I came to check..."

"It must have been the wind," he quickly replied.

Whether satisfied or not, his mother simply said, "Make sure you don’t stay up too late," before her footsteps retreated down the hall. Even after the sound of her steps faded, his heart continued to pound in his chest.

There was a loud bang, and Fujishima let out a small scream. The naked child cautiously peeked out from the bathroom. Standing before Fujishima, Tohru glanced around, looking lost and uncertain. Only then did Fujishima remember the dirty clothes he had stuffed under the sink. The thought of putting those filthy clothes back on Tohru after he had just gotten clean was unbearable, so he handed him a bath towel from the changing room’s closet. While Tohru dried off, Fujishima helped him dry his hair. After that, Fujishima carried the child, now wrapped in the bath towel like a bundle, from the bathroom to his room, moving as quietly as possible. Once inside, he locked the door, using the room’s lock for the first time ever.

"If you go back to your room in the morning, you can stay here tonight," he offered.

Tohru, wearing the oversized pajamas Fujishima had lent him, nodded slightly while trying his best to hold up the pants that kept slipping down his waist.

Fujishima turned off the room's main light, leaving only the bedside lamp on. He got into bed first and called out to Tohru, who was hesitating near the window. Slowly, Tohru approached.

The bed was large enough that even with both of them in it, it didn’t feel cramped. However, it was the first time Fujishima had ever slept next to someone other than his mother, so he felt a bit nervous. When he closed his eyes, a wave of fear washed over him—fear of his own audacity. Today, he had done several things that would surely make his mother angry. If she found out about everything, it wouldn’t end with just being yelled at. Yet, strangely, he didn’t feel much regret. He didn’t feel guilty about betraying her.

The sound of the wind and rain outside was so intense that it kept sleep at bay. The small body beside him kept shifting uncomfortably at the edge of the bed, inching closer to the center. In the darkness, their eyes met.

“This was the only place with the light on,” Tohru murmured, still looking at Fujishima.

“The rain was so loud, and the wind was scary. Everything outside was pitch dark, but this place had the light on.”

Fujishima imagined the child walking through the pitch-black garden, braving the torrential rain and wind. It must not have been easy to reach the main house.

“All the doors were closed, but the small kitchen window was open, so I came in through there. I really wanted to talk to my dad.”

Fujishima gently patted the child’s head.

“The dark must have been scary. You did well to endure it.”

Tohru suddenly clung to Fujishima’s chest, a solid lump of emotion hitting him, almost knocking the breath out of him. “I was scared. So scared. Really scared,” Tohru kept repeating in a trembling voice as he held on tightly, his small head shaking with the intensity of his feelings.

“You don’t have to hold on so tightly. I’m not going anywhere,” Fujishima reassured him.

Tohru shook his head and gripped Fujishima’s shirt even tighter. His desperation was endearing, so Fujishima lightly embraced the child to soothe him. As time passed, the strength in Tohru’s grip gradually weakened, and soon, Fujishima could hear the regular, soft breathing of a child who had fallen asleep. Until now, Fujishima had only known the warmth of his mother’s skin. He realized for the first time how much heat a child’s body could generate.

Early the next morning, Fujishima walked Tohru back to the storage house. He accompanied him to the entrance, but until the very last moment when Tohru had to leave the main house, his small hand clung tightly to Fujishima’s right hand. Though his face twisted in a way that suggested he was about to cry, Tohru managed to keep the tears from falling, his lips pressed into a firm line.

That evening, after his mother had gone out to her social dance meeting, Fujishima visited his father’s room just after 8 p.m. Even though he had resolved to do so, his chest was still swirling with anxiety, and he found it difficult to knock on the door. He hadn’t had a proper conversation with his father in months. The worst-case scenario was that his father might ignore him completely. What finally pushed him to knock was the image of the child’s tear-streaked face. It was a sense of justice that made him believe the child didn’t deserve to be unhappy here.

After taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. “Who is it?” his father’s voice came from inside. Fujishima replied, “It’s Keishi. I need to talk to you about something important, Father.” There was a pause before a short reply came: “Come in.”

It had been years since Fujishima had stepped into his father’s room, and his knees trembled with nervousness. His father was lounging comfortably on a large sofa in the middle of the room, reading a book. The room was big in size, and lined with bookshelves on all sides, and one of the two windows was wide open, causing the lace curtains to sway gently.

Fujishima froze just inside the doorway, unable to take another step forward. He couldn’t meet his father’s intense gaze head-on and gradually lowered his eyes.

“I want to talk about Tohru,” he began, but his father’s voice interrupted him with a skeptical tone, “Tohru, you say?”

Fujishima could almost see his father’s furrowed brows and suspicious expression.

“I want to ask you to let him return to his mother. Staying here won’t do him any good, and he wants to go back,” Fujishima continued.

There was a sound as his father closed the book, and Fujishima instinctively looked up, only to be caught in a sharp, piercing gaze. His father leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, resting his chin on his hand.

“Did your mother put you up to this?” His father’s eyes were unforgiving.

“No, she didn’t.”

Even though he denied it, his father’s expression, tinged with a faint, mocking smile, didn’t seem to believe him. After a short silence, his father sighed softly.

“Close the window. It’s getting cold.”

Following his father’s instructions, Fujishima moved closer to the window. The chirping of insects filled the air.

“Is that woman out somewhere?” his father asked as Fujishima turned back, catching a glimpse of the back of his father’s head over the sofa.

“She went to a social dance gathering,” Fujishima replied.

“Social dance, huh…”

The words were accompanied by a sharp pang in his chest. His father’s legs no longer worked, yet his mother went out cheerfully to dance, week after week.

“Have I ever hit you?” his father asked suddenly.

Fujishima gripped the hem of the curtain tightly. “...No,” he replied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at you either, so why are you always so afraid of me? What is it about me that scares you so much?”

Even though his father pressed him, Fujishima didn’t know what to say.

“If you showed some defiance, I’d think there was still some hope for you… But a life where everything is given to you must be easy. All you have to do is walk in the direction your mother points, like a clockwork doll.”

Fujishima felt a cold sensation spread through his body. He knew he couldn’t do anything without his mother and that he couldn’t make decisions on his own. Despite this awareness, he had no idea how to change. The biting sarcasm, combined with an overwhelming sense of awkwardness, gnawed at him. Normally, he would have fallen silent at this point. But today, he had a purpose. The sense of duty pushed him to speak.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” he managed to say, though his voice was barely more than a whisper, like the buzz of a mosquito.

His father’s right eyebrow twitched slightly.

“I don’t know what nonsense that woman has filled your head with, but Tohru is not going back to his mother.”

“It’s not right to keep him here,” Fujishima argued, remembering the child’s tear-streaked face and the desperate grip of his small hands. His father narrowed his eyes.

"Last month, I received a call from the child welfare center informing me that Tohru had been taken into protective custody. He collapsed at school, and when they couldn't reach his guardian, the call eventually made its way to me. The cause of his collapse was malnutrition. When they looked into it, they found that his mother had left home about a month prior and hadn't been seen since… He hadn’t been eating properly," Fujishima's father explained, reaching for a cigarette on the side table.

"They said that the bank book and cash had disappeared from their apartment. I knew she was a negligent woman, but I never imagined she would abandon her own child like an unwanted pet. If you want to get rid of Tohru, do as you please. But if you send him away, he'll have nowhere to go."

Fujishima was shocked. He had assumed that simply returning the child to his mother would resolve the issue, but now he realized that wasn’t an option. If Tohru couldn’t go back to his mother, where could he possibly belong?

"If you’re done, get out. Just looking at you makes me angry," his father said, the words like sharp stabs to Fujishima's chest. Holding back the tears that threatened to spill, he bit down hard on his teeth.

"Please… don't tell Mother that I was talking about Tohru. I'm begging you," he added before quickly leaving his father’s study as if fleeing. As he exited the northern hallway, he could no longer hold back the tears. They flowed freely, unchecked. Never before had his father so bluntly expressed how loathsome he found him. It was the first time Fujishima had been made to feel, so explicitly, that even his presence was unbearable to his father.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. He glimpsed Tamaki’s figure and hastily turned right, slipping out through the back door. If she saw him crying, she might think it strange and report it to his mother.

Outside, the night was illuminated by a bright moon. Twigs snapped underfoot as he walked, the garden still littered with debris from the previous day's storm. The disarray felt like a reflection of his inner turmoil, leaving him feeling empty.

As he wandered aimlessly, he found himself near the northern separate annex. The high windows of the old storehouse remained dark. He knew he had to convey his father’s words to Tohru, but how could he tell the child that his mother had abandoned him? The thought of saying it was unbearable.

Fujishima passed the separate annex and entered the eastern garden. The plants here were always unkempt, unlike the rest of the garden, which puzzled him until he once asked the gardener, who had laughed and said, "I’ve been told not to touch this area." When he was younger, he had assumed his father disliked manicured gardens, but now he knew it was his mother’s doing.

As he stepped into the overgrown garden, he was startled by a rustling sound from the bushes. Thinking it was a cat, he jumped back, but then a small black figure emerged in front of him. Under the moonlight, he recognized the short hair of the child. Hastily wiping his tear-streaked face with his hands, he asked, "Are you out for a walk too?"

He tried to maintain a calm demeanor, but Tohru looked up and pointed at him. "I was going to your room."

Fujishima had promised to talk to his father. Tohru had likely come to hear the outcome. Sniffling, Fujishima apologized, "I’m sorry. I haven’t spoken to your father yet. He’s been busy with work, so I’ll try again another time."

Tohru muttered, "I see," and then approached him. He grasped Fujishima’s wrist tightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you crying?"

Fujishima quickly wiped his eyes. "It’s nothing," he said, but as soon as he spoke, tears welled up again. Even when he turned away, Tohru continued to gaze at him.

"Do you cry for no reason?"

There’s always a reason for tears—sadness. Even a child would understand that.

"Someone I care about… told me they hated me," Fujishima admitted. Saying it aloud made him recall the cold tone in his father’s voice, causing his chest to ache again. Tohru gently rubbed his right hand, trying to comfort him, but this only made Fujishima’s emotions surge more intensely.

"Next time, it’ll be okay," Tohru said earnestly. "When you meet them again, I’ll pray they’ll say they like you. If we both pray, the message will reach God sooner."

The cold emptiness in Fujishima’s heart was suddenly warmed, as if wrapped in a soft blanket. Despite his unfortunate circumstances, how could this child still wish for someone else’s happiness? Fujishima knelt before the child and bowed his head.

"…Thank you," he whispered.

Tohru gave a small, ticklish smile, then embraced Fujishima’s head, gently stroking his hair as his mother used to do. Forgetting that the one comforting him was just a small child, Fujishima clung to Tohru’s slender body and cried quietly.

Tohru didn’t move. He stood there, still and silent, until Fujishima had finished crying.

That night, Fujishima let Tohru sleep in his room again. Tohru had wanted to come, and Fujishima didn’t want to be alone either. They talked a little in bed, though it was mostly Tohru who spoke, with Fujishima naturally becoming the listener.

After Tohru had fallen asleep, Fujishima stroked his soft hair and thought about how, despite not being related by blood, he felt a deep sense of familiarity with this child. He had never felt so close to anyone before. Even if it was misfortune that brought them together, this was the first time Fujishima had experienced a feeling of affection that wasn’t about receiving love or giving it unconditionally. It was simply about cherishing and caring for someone.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Fujishima grew closer to Tohru. Despite the age difference, with one being a primary school student and the other a high schooler, just being together lessened the loneliness. Even just listening to Tohru’s endless chatter was enjoyable.

To make it easier for Tohru to visit, Fujishima gave him the key to the back door. Entering through the back allowed Tohru to avoid passing by his mother’s room on the way to the second floor. Moreover, since the route passed by his father’s room, there was little chance of running into his mother.

Every night, a small visitor would come to Fujishima’s room. It wasn’t just once or twice that Fujishima, while studying, dozed off, only to wake up and find Tohru sleeping in his bed. The fear of being caught by his mother was always in the back of his mind, but when he saw Tohru’s smiling face, those worries seemed to fade away. Tohru, aware that he’d be scolded if found in the main house by his mother, only came after everyone was asleep, around eleven o'clock.

Tohru called Fujishima “Big Brother.” Fujishima was surprised to learn that Tohru was a fifth grader. Though his speech was mature, his small size made Fujishima think he was in the second or third grade. When Fujishima mentioned this, Tohru pouted in anger.

At first, Fujishima thought Tohru was shy, but as time went by, Tohru became more talkative. He lived with his mother, who worked in the nightlife industry, but his "father" changed every six months. One day, his mother suddenly disappeared. Since being taken in by this family, Tohru had never seen the man who was supposed to be his real father. Tohru spoke passionately about these things, telling stories that made Fujishima feel sad.

About a month after Tohru started visiting, Fujishima was finally able to tell him, “It seems your mother won’t be coming to pick you up.” Tohru listened in silence, as if he already had an inkling that he had been abandoned.

To help Tohru, who couldn’t bathe on his own, Fujishima started delaying his own bath time until late at night so they could bathe together. However, within two weeks, they were caught by Tamaki, the elderly housekeeper, as Fujishima was carrying Tohru back to his room after their bath. Desperate, Fujishima pleaded with Tamaki to keep his friendship with Tohru a secret from his mother.

The elderly housekeeper readily agreed to keep the secret. She had known that a distant relative's child had started living in the separate annex, but she wasn’t told the details. Though Fujishima's mother had ordered her only to bring meals and not get involved, she admitted she had been concerned about Tohru. After Fujishima asked her to take care of Tohru, Tamaki began secretly washing his clothes, cleaning his room, and taking care of other things. Once, when Tohru overslept and couldn’t sneak back to his room, Tamaki even smuggled him back to the separate annex to avoid being caught by Fujishima’s mother. Though she had been working in the house for many years, Fujishima realized through this incident that she was actually a kind person.

Tohru adored Fujishima, calling him “Big Brother” with pure, uncalculating affection, which made Fujishima happy. Because of this, Fujishima grew fond of Tohru as well. He taught Tohru subjects he struggled with, gave him old dictionaries and books from the back of his closet, and celebrated with him when he brought home good test scores, as if they were his own achievements.

Recently, Fujishima’s mother had been going out more frequently, spending more than half the nights of the week away from home at social dances and dinners with other ladies. This actually worked out well for them, as they could be as noisy as they liked without worrying about her.

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