Feels like an ending?
The original copy of the book had been lost in the fire, and the truth was that Laruku didn't really remember writing much of the second copy. He remembered going into the city to get an empty journal, but that was about it. He rarely thought about the past if he could help it, so of course conjuring up all the details he could about all the years of Clouded Tears's life -- even those years when he wasn't there -- was something he would pretend to forget if he could. He could recite memories without thinking about it if people prompted him to, so the authorship of the new book must have gone very much the same way. He had written with his eyes closed in some sense, but he could recite every scratchy word if he had to. If you want to.
The story had ended with fire.
They stopped moving and Laruku found his arms around his daughter, who wasn't really a little girl anymore. The voice laughed, but he didn't care. She did not belong to Ryoujoku anymore, or Kaena. She had grown up with morals and a good heart and she would be fine. (She didn't need him anymore, and he was relieved.) He hugged her because he could, because he did care, and he did love her. Because he was proud of her, and because she was the only thing in his life that had turned out okay. It was disgustingly ironic, the way that had turned out, but it was only the end that mattered, wasn't it? Thank you,
he answered decidedly.