Sonna Kazoku nara Sute Chaeba?

Reitaro Shinoya lives as a stranger in his own home, systematically ignored by both his wife and daughter. Rather than sharing meals or resting in the family spaces, he is confined to a small, dark room where he must eat and sleep entirely alone. The isolation extends beyond mere neglect; a strip of cellophane tape stretched across the corridor serves as an absolute boundary, and crossing that line into the rest of the house is strictly forbidden. When an outside observer witnesses this grim arrangement, she bluntly asks Reitaro whether the situation constitutes domestic violence. Instead of recognizing the severity of his circumstances, he dismisses her concern, insisting that his family merely enforces a few unusual rules. This quiet rationalization highlights just how deeply normalized the mistreatment has become in his daily life. Despite the emotional distance and the harsh restrictions placed upon him, Reitaro remains determined to mend his fractured household. He clings to the hope of restoring his family to what it once was, even as the barriers between them grow more rigid. His desperate struggle raises a haunting question about the true cost of holding together a family that has already pushed him away.