I stood before the door of my house, the ashes on my forehead itching. I reached a hand out and pulled the cord for the bell, hearing it ring inside. The door slid open, and I found myself looking into Grandmother's tired face. She saw the ash circle on my forehead, and stepped aside. I took my feet out of my shoes, stepping into the house.

Grandmother said nothing. She left me in the doorway, not looking back at me. As I stepped into the main room, I could see the shrine in its alcove, its black candles burning instead of our lucky red ones.

Because of me.

Mother knelt in front of the small table in the room, and I could see her counting out coins and paper bills, sorting them into sections. She didn't even look up.

"Come here," she said.

I went forward and got on my knees before my mother, bowing so low that my forehead touched the floor. "Mother, I am sorry for—"

"I sold your wedding robe," she said. "I got two hundred yan for the under-robe alone."

I looked up. Mother's face was blank as she worked. "And the fabric for the main robe turned up four-hundred-and-sixty yan."

My heart sank when Mother said those words. Mother forked out four bills—each bill was worth five yan—and held them out to me. I took them, wondering what Mother wanted me to do with them.

"Keep those," she said. "You are going to need the money for the train."

"The train?" My hands trembled as I folded the bills.

"We sent a telegram to Yoshi of our situation. He reported back that there are positions open in the factories in Kotari for you to work. He and his wife will put you up in their home until you have enough money to live on your own."

"Factories?"

"Learn to talk, Yori, instead of echoing my words." Mother tucked the bills into a leather case and put the coins in her jade jar. "Your father and I will not be able to feed you or Grandmother," she said. "Grandmother is going to live with her sister."

She stood and took her leave from me, the leather case and the jade jar in her hands. She made a small bow before our little shrine in the corner and went through the door, shutting it behind her and leaving me in my silence.

I looked at the bills in my hand. I didn't even deserve to receive the money for the train. I stood and went to the shrine in the corner, getting down on my knees. I clapped my hands three times before it, bowing my head each time. I then took the bills and slipped them under the candle holder. I would not need them—it was Father's money.

I left the shrine and slipped into the narrow hall of the ground floor. It was empty, and I hurried across, sliding on my feet with the use of my socks, before I darted up the stairs to my room.

I opened my closet door, moving the futon out and setting it aside so I had more room to work. I found my old travel bag on the highest shelf. I pulled it out and set it on the floor, opening it so I could put whatever I needed inside.

My eyes began to burn as I stopped and began to think about what I was doing. I looked into the bag. My knees bent beneath me, and I sank to the floor of my closet, curling in a tight ball as my tears fell from my eyes, down my face, falling onto the collar of my robe and leaving dark spots.

I should not have been so stupid as to ask that I would not marry Itsua-han. The Creator was now punishing me for my foolishness and my selfish behavior. No, the Creator did not just punish me—the Creator was punishing my whole family. Such was the price of one selfish action of a young merchant's daughter.

And now I had decided to run away, not work miserably in a factory. I was being selfish again. Mother and Father had been kind enough, as well as Yoshi, to give me a place to work. I had never worked harder than perhaps sewing the seam of a robe myself, or gathering herbs to put in broth for sick family members. My hands were soft and delicate, not calloused and rough like the hands of peasants.

I stayed in my miserable little ball of tears on the floor, letting them fall, as I had held them in the rest of the previous night, not wanting to cry in front of the priest at the temple. I could feel my eyes growing puffy and red, and I wiped them away with the palm of my hand.

It did no good; more kept falling.

I stood, still crying, pulling robes from my shelves and tucking them into the bag. I put the most expensive robes on the top; I would sell them once I had left my city, so I would have money to buy food and pay for shelter. I lowered them into the bag carefully; something as small as a stain or a loose stitch could have dramatically reduced the price of such fine clothes.

I remembered the Wailer in the city, and my thoughts wandered to her; I might have had to find a home in a Wailer house, and live the rest of my life pleasuring men while I sent the money back to my parents. It was a fitting fate for a young woman who had brought so much misfortune upon her family.

I heard voices through the wall of my closet. Mother and Father's room was next to mine, and I could hear the floorboards creaking as one of them (my best guess was Father) paced the room. I stopped my movement to listen as hard as I dared.

"You can't blame her for all this," Father was saying. I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "After all, Yo-ji was the one who put the money with Notomo, not Yori."

"She prayed that the marriage would not be." Mother's voice shared the same amount of exhaustion, but hers sounded angrier than Father's.

"Momoko." I heard Father sigh, and could imagine him putting his hands on Mother's shoulders and touching his forehead to hers. "The Creator does not punish. We punish ourselves. The Creator would not let all this happen to us because our daughter offered one prayer. Perhaps the Creator did not want Yori marrying Itsua-han. Perhaps there is a greater plan, and the Creator is using our loss of money as a tool."

I heard a sniff from Mother, and figured that she must have been crying. I heard Father speaking again, his voice softer, so I had to strain my ears to listen to what he was saying.

"We will speak to Lord Ashiro-han. He is a just ruler of our region, and I think that he will help us end the scheming business of the Notomo Bank."

"But there is no way to get our money back."

"None. We will have to work to make it back up there. I am sure, however, that Lord Ashiro-han will help us at least keep the business, rather than let us lose it."

"I will send a letter to him. I hope he can make time in searching for a wife to listen to us."

I heard the floorboards creaking again with Mother's light tread. I looked down at my bag, suddenly realizing how stupid I was to have thought about running away. There was hope in taking the matter up to Lord Ashiro-han. As far as I knew, he was a just lord, and a kind one, though he hadn't ventured from his home in seven years.

I would have to repay my family, somehow, for the humiliation and bad fortune I had brought upon them.

I left my bag packed, in case anything did go wrong.

"There is hope, at least," Grandmother was saying as she set the morning paper down. "You were quick to jump to conclusions, Momoko. Lord Ashiro-han has helped his people out of the dust before."

Mother looked up from her soup, her eyes wandering to my face. I lowered my gaze to my own soup, lifting the bowl to my lips. I looked over at the paper.

LORD ASHIRO-HAN TURNS DOWN TWENTY NAGEEYA

I reached for the paper, but Mother took it, reading it as she drank her tea. She showed it to Father, who read over it quickly.

"Why should this concern us?" he asked. "He still hasn't found a wife."

"Tatsuo," she said, taking his face in one hand to turn it back to the paper. "Read that line again."

He took the paper in both hands, reading over the line, his brows drawing together as he did so. He looked back at Mother and threw the paper down.

"No. I'm not going to do this just for money."

I set my bowl down, looking over at Grandmother. Her face bore extreme confusion, and I felt something fluttering deep inside me. I couldn't tell what it was; I was shocked at the look of fear that was on Father's face.

"But think of a future. We will be well cared for and—"

"No." Father took the paper and tore it into small pieces. "You will not speak to me again of this matter."

"Even if she is turned down—"

"I told you not to speak!" Father tossed the papers off the table. "He has had six dead wives, and I will not let our daughter be the seventh."

Something akin to dread flooded my body; I could feel myself pale, and I looked over at Mother. She wouldn't look at me, her face turning red.

"Momoko," Grandmother breathed. "How could you think of such a thing?"

"I am thinking of the benefit of our family," Mother said. "We would be more than well off. Think of Yoshi, and his wife and children. Should our family be joined with the family of the lord of our—"

"Now you are being selfish," Grandmother said. "You have let money take over your life, and you are willing to risk your own daughter's life just so you can be comfortable and happy."

"I am thinking about the child I carry in my womb," she said. "I am thinking of my daughter. I am thinking about us all. You are a foolish old woman who has always lived comfortably. You have never worked with your hands like I have. I do not want us to be reduced to living a peasant's life."

She stood with some effort and looked around at us all. "And all of you call me wicked for thinking of my family's welfare."

She left us, slamming the door shut and leaving a large silence behind us. I looked over at Father.

"She wanted me to be wed to Lord Ashiro-han?" I asked.

Father shook his head. "She suggested it. There is still a large amount of money given to the family of the rejected woman, so even if you were rejected, we would have enough money to pick us back up…"

I took a deep breath, still ashamed of myself. I looked at Grandmother, who was drumming her fingers on the table.

"I have humiliated the family," I said. "And I have been selfish. I suppose the best thing I could do is present myself to Lord Ashiro-han."

"And if you are accepted? If you become his wife? You shall die also." Father shook his head. "No, I cannot let this happen to you."

"But Father…"

"Go to your room. Both of you. I no longer wish to be in your presence."

I glanced at Grandmother; she nodded and stood, offering her hand to me. I stood as well, taking Grandmother's hand. She gave one last look at Father.

"Tatsuo," she began.

Father rested his forehead on his palms. "Go."

"Things will get better, my son."

He said nothing. Grandmother led me from the room, into the darkness and the cold of the hall. She kept her hands over mine, holding my little hand to her chest. For an old woman, she was still taller than I was, and she was surprisingly warm.

"Grandmother, if I was to marry Ashiro-han, I would bring honor back to the family."

She looked down at me. "You would risk your life to bring honor to our family?"

"I would do it to…to redeem myself. Even if I was rejected, at least Lord Ashiro-han would have to hear of the trouble we have been put into."

Grandmother pursed her lips. She released my hand and stood apart from me, staring at the light flickering in the family shrine. "Your mother already sent word to Lord Ashiro-han. He will listen to us, I am sure, without you having to be his bride."