“That’s not remembering them,” Fuyuko’s mother, Fuyuhi, said angrily. “Not as they were. My husband and son, your son—” she turned to Misaki, “—and your husband—” to Setsuko, “—and yours—” to Hyori, “—all of our men were warriors. If we don’t remember the way they died, then we’re not remembering them for who they were.”
