His mother laughed and reached for the remote control. ‘I was tired of hearing you say it’s too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. You always complained about living in such an old-fashioned house. I thought if we modernised it a bit, you might come home more often. At least for the Obon and the new year.’

Shoji avoided her eyes.

‘Why don’t you take a bath?’ She clasped her hands. ‘But before that, tell me where you want to eat. I’ll make a reservation.’

‘Actually, it’s your cooking that I miss the most.’

‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘But if it’s too much trouble, we can eat out.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not a problem at all.’

‘I’m sorry, especially after you’ve dressed up in such a gorgeous kimono. You look beautiful.’

His mother burst out laughing. ‘You’re getting cheeky.’

She left the room and he lay on his futon, running his fingers along the surface. He could easily imagine his mother airing it a day before he’d arrived. She was right. He ought to come home more often. Then again, he didn’t want to see that man.

Shoji took a deep breath and smelled the fresh tatami. It seemed like his mother had replaced the flooring too. She took good care of the house, as if the family home were a precious heirloom. He supposed it was, though Shoji still didn’t like the place. He always felt uneasy here. He had the feeling that everyone was holding their breath, and one escaped, tiny sigh would topple everything.

He glanced around his room. The furniture was the same as before he had left — an old wooden cupboard, a toy cabinet full of cheap plastic toys, and a western-style desk, which stood out oddly in this traditional house.

But what was that on top of the desk? Shoji got up to take a closer look. A white paper bag. Had his mother left it there accidentally? He grabbed the bag and went to look for her.

On the way to the kitchen, Shoji saw his father emerging from a room. He tensed up. Dressed in a hakama, his father was stocky and expressionless. He gave Shoji a cold stare. Shoji clenched his fists and bowed.

‘It’s been a while,’ he greeted him. ‘I hope you’ve been well.’

His father was quiet for a moment before asking, ‘How long are you planning to stay?’

‘Just over the weekend.’

His father didn’t respond. He walked to the other side of the house, most likely to his workshop.