The book had been returned four months ago.
For the past month and more, life in the clan head's household had gone on as usual. Sasuke still trained in the mornings, still wolfed down his meals, and even complained about the overcooked radishes in exactly the same tone.
Mikoto carried on as usual too. Only the old wooden box at the bottom of the cabinet in the inner room was different. She had taken it out that July night and looked at it all night long. Since putting it back, she had never touched it again.
But she slept poorly at night. She would go sit in the study for a while, without turning on a light, simply sitting in the dark.
Even she could not untangle what she was thinking. The few things she could make sense of, she dared not pursue.
It was the afternoon of a day off. Sasuke had gone out early with his classmates, leaving his slot in the entryway shoe rack empty. There were no sounds of morning training now either. Outside the courtyard, all was quiet.
Mikoto went into the inner room, crouched down, and took the box from the very back of the cabinet's bottom shelf.
The box was not heavy. Holding it against her chest, she walked out through the courtyard gate and stopped at the entrance.
She had not set tea on the sitting room table that morning. Today, that table was not for receiving guests.
Footsteps sounded at the mouth of the lane. They were not Sasuke's. His steps were light and headlong; she could tell them apart. These steps were steady, each footfall even.
Listening, she drew the box closer against her chest.
Kiyoshi approached with his schoolbag on his back. When he reached her, his steps paused