Kubo hugged her back. He buried his face a little deeper in her neck, holding onto her like he could keep her very soul safe in his arms if he just held her close enough.

A choked-up laugh burst out of him as his mother steered them forcefully towards things that were happy. "Okay," he said, wiping his eye, "but that's your first question."

As he walked with her hand in hand to pick up the shamisen, it occurred to him that he needed to show her around, introduce her to everyone, play her all the songs he'd come up with since she'd died, so many things - he settled on two of HIS three questions. "Are you hungry? Or tired?"

He'd been given quarters with a spare room, which seemed outright opulent to the poor boy. Mother might like to have her own room for a change, though. He glowed, thinking of how comfortable the living arrangements were, how proud he'd be to take his mother to a home that was a step up from their cave.

"They gave me rooms," he said, emphasizing the plural. "They said I could put whatever I wanted into it! I asked for a kotatsu and they just gave me one!"

He slipped the shamisen's strap over his back again. "-and this isn't my song," he went on, playing through the tune again. "There's SO much music here, from centuries and CENTURIES back."

So many wonders, and he couldn't wait to share them all with her.

"I have more stories, too," he added, eager to heap good things on her.