Page 11 of Mercy Written in Blood

Renji's pager vibrated before he could answer.

TRAUMA ALERT.

MASS CASUALTY INCIDENT.

ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: EIGHT MINUTES.

NUMBER OF PATIENTS: UNKNOWN.

POSSIBLE CONTAMINATION.

He looked back towards Aoi. The fatigue vanished from his posture so completely it might never have existed.

"Call Akiko," he said. "Wake every available surgical registrar. Open the secondary trauma bays and tell blood bank we may need another massive transfusion activation."

"What happened?"

Renji read the final line on the alert.

CASUALTIES RECOVERED FROM SOUTHERN TUNNEL NETWORK.

For the briefest instant, Kael's warning returned to him — movement underground, Protocol Seven-C. Something cold settled beneath Renji's ribs. He handed Aoi the tablet.

"Get everyone ready."

She read the alert and hurried towards the desk. Throughout the ward, lights came on, doors opened, phones began ringing. The hospital stretched awake around him.

Renji turned towards the lifts.

Far below the city, something that had remained buried for centuries had been disturbed. Now its survivors were coming to him.

Chapter Two

The Weight of the Name

By eight o'clock the city belonged to someone else. The neon that had painted Takamori in impossible colours only hours before had surrendered to soft morning sunlight. Commuters hurried across crossings with coffee in hand, delivery scooters weaved between buses, and the smell of fresh bread drifted from cafés opening their doors.

The Ishida Family headquarters was already awake. Unlike the towering corporate offices that dominated the financial district, it occupied an older building tucked between modern developments, its wooden beams and tiled roof having survived earthquakes, economic booms and three complete renovations of the surrounding neighbourhood. Visitors often expected something intimidating. Instead they found a place that felt lived in — employees greeting one another by name, shoes left neatly beside polished wooden floors, fresh flowers placed beside the entrance shrine before sunrise.

Haruki preferred it that way. Fear lasted only as long as people were afraid. Respect endured.

He stepped through the front doors carrying two takeaway coffees.

"Morning, Boss."

"Morning."

Security bowed. Haruki returned it without breaking stride. The older guard smiled — not unusual. People smiled around Haruki, not because he demanded loyalty, but because he gave it first.

The argument had already begun by the time he reached the meeting room.

"...I'm telling you he lied."

"He didn't lie."

"He absolutely lied."

Haruki pushed open the sliding door. Six heads turned simultaneously into silence. He looked from one face to another before settling on two men sitting opposite each other. Ken — thirty-two, construction foreman, temper like dry tinder — sat across from Daichi, one of the Family's accountants, who looked as though he'd rather face a firing squad than another five minutes of this conversation.