It still baffled Kousaka why a perfect woman like her chose a mediocre man like his father as a partner. His father was not a classy man, to say the least. His face was like a failed montage of parts that didn’t fit together, he didn’t earn much, he had no hobbies but also no passion for work, and generally, you couldn’t find any merits worth calling merits (though to the Kousaka of today, just living normally and keeping a house was worthy of respect). Kousaka’s mother was harsh on herself, and sought similar effort from her son as well. From a time before Kousaka can remember, he was forced to take various lessons, and when at home, followed a minute-to-minute schedule devised by his mother. Being so young, he thought all mothers were like this, so he harbored no doubts and obediently did as told. If he defied her, he might be locked out of the house barefoot or not get any meals all day, so he had no choice. The fact that he didn’t live up to even half of her expectations seemed to make Kousaka’s mother more bewildered than upset. Why is this child, my own flesh and blood, not as perfect as me? Perhaps there was a problem in how I raised him? Strangely, she doubted everything except Kousaka’s disposition. Yet that most likely wasn’t a result of partiality as a parent, but a manifestation of her warped self-love. She chose to doubt her teaching methods before she’d doubt her own blood, that’s all.