The small radio's folk song was always distant and tinny, the meals were getting ever more meagre by the day, and Takamichi Sōma was growing weary.

Sayuri sat next to him, quietly sewing, expressionless. She was a different woman from the one he had married— that was the glum reality. The smiling fancies of her youth had been stripped away by hard years, as had, Takamichi was guilty to note, her scant scraps of down-to-earth beauty. Now she was all the more drawn and thin, looking ten or twenty years older than she was, and her hands were rough from the mountains of chores. She seemed tired all the time, far too tired to hold grudges.

She hadn't carried the name “Sōma” for even ten years yet, but Sayuri had already been changed this much. Takamichi began to feel very tired.
“It's nearly New Years',” Sayuri said eventually, her gaze not leaving the shirt she was repairing. Takamichi swallowed.

“I don't know what we're going to do,” he said. “There's just not enough, even after all we've done to save. I don't know what to do.”

“What about the police?” Sayuri asked. She continued to stare away from him.
'They're my family' was on the tip of Takamichi's tongue, but today, he couldn't say it. “What indeed,” he managed. “They probably wouldn't listen. If bribes are involved, I wouldn't be surprised.”

“In that case, what choice do we have?” Sayuri laid her mending aside slowly, walked the few steps to the door, and pulled on her ragged jacket.

“What are you doing?” Takamichi asked, standing up as well.

“I am going out to speak to the head of the family,” Sayuri said. “I think that's our only option now.”

“At this hour? But Master Akito would—"

Sayuri clenched the sliding door's handle tightly, bowing her head again. “I don't want to associate with that man, but there's nothing else we can do. And we don't have much time left. It has to be tonight.”

“But he hates you. He...hates women. He'd eat you alive.” Takamichi fumbled for a moment. “Besides, they probably won't even let you inside the main house. They don't let anyone in.”

At this, Sayuri relented somewhat. “Then what can we do?”

“I'll go. They'll make some allowances for me, since I'm part of the family.” Takamichi dragged his battered second-hand coat off the rack. Sayuri looked as if she wanted to say something, only to let it fade away into her mind.

Takamichi paused, then glanced in the direction of the bedroom, where his son was nestled in the shared futon already. “I'll be back soon, with some luck. If Jun wakes up, tell him I send my love.”

“All right. Take care.”

“I will.” Takamichi slid open the door and stepped out.