By evening, the lights in the main house had come on earlier than they had over the past few days.
The last batch of entries in the ledger had just been wrapped up. Every name that needed crossing out had been crossed out. Only this one remained unresolved.
The sun had just slipped off the slope. The grass still held a little of the day's warmth, tinged with its green, earthy scent, and the evening wind swept over the quiet rooftops of the clan grounds.
Kiyoshi returned from the slope at an unhurried pace.
He had to go and speak to the person who still needed persuading. He could not put it off past tonight.
When he reached the courtyard gate, the compartment of the shoe rack against the wall was empty.
Sasuke was not home, and the courtyard held none of the sounds of his morning training.
Kiyoshi had visited this house many times. One glance told him which shoes were in the entryway. A pair was missing today, so he knew that this time, the boy would not be there to shield his mother from what Kiyoshi had to say.
Mikoto sat beneath the light in the main room, an unfinished garment spread across her lap. A ball of thread lay by her feet, and the stitches stopped midway, like a sentence left half spoken.
The old wooden box beneath the cabinet was still in its usual place, covered with a cloth. He did not touch it. He had seen it last time; there was no need to look through it again.
The lamp in the main room burned steadily, illuminating the silence.
Kiyoshi stood at the threshold for a moment, sorting his arguments in his mind: what he could say, and what he could not.
Tonight, he