By Eugie Foster.
Read by Stephen Eley.
Mother sat bolt upright and stared at Oiwa. “Where is your face?” she cried.
Oiwa reached a hand to her cheek. “I-It is at the front of my head, where it always is.”
“No, only half of it,” Mother replied. She glared at me. “I pledge you to return the other half of your sister’s face. Swear it, Yasuo!”