It wasn’t a good idea, Kou learned, to step back; he was fast but Reizo was tougher. Air rushed out his gut. He collapsed to his knees and then the floor. Reizo's punch was like it had shattered stone. His eyes were watering. He couldn't see the door. Knowing he was surrounded by people who'd come to take him home, his resolve began faltering. He’d not leave. He didn’t need to. But Reizo was right: he was stubborn. He couldn't be like this.
And that man's fist was like a hammer. His abdomen was in absolute pain.
Kou couldn't admit Reizo was right. He had been ready to leave by saying he couldn't do anything to stop them, but the way he'd said it had been too aggressive. His mother had died. The only physical memories of her were the things he'd been given. The need to honour her was served as he wore it; he found it difficult to do anything that would go against the family. And he was longing to do something for himself. Then Reizo had punched him. It was like a gift, almost.