Page 145 of Mercy Written in Blood
"You understand."
"I understand being valued for what you can continue enduring."
Silence settled between them. Not empty. Shared. Haruki's hand rested on the windowsill between them. Renji's lay several inches away. Neither closed the distance.
"You did not choose what you are," Haruki said.
"No."
"Do you regret it?"
Renji looked out across the city. There was no answer simple enough for the question. He remembered waking hungry and terrified. Remembered the first human life ending beneath his hands. Remembered learning restraint through failure rather than virtue. He remembered medicine before antisepsis, pain before anaesthesia, epidemics consuming streets while he remained untouched. He remembered lives saved only because he had lived long enough to understand what others had not.
"Yes," he said.
Haruki waited.
"And no."
"That sounds honest."
"It is."
"Does it get easier?"
"What?"
"Living with a life you didn't choose."
Renji looked at him. Haruki's face held no performance now. No authority. No charm. Only a question one burdened man had asked another.
"No," Renji said. "But you become more skilled at carrying it."
Haruki lowered his gaze.
"I was afraid you would say that."
"I can lie, if you prefer."
"No."
The beginning of a smile broke through.
"I think we've established I came for honesty."
"You came with ramen."
"That too."
Renji's hand moved before he decided to move it. He placed it over Haruki's. Haruki looked down. The contact was simple. No urgency. No medical justification. Renji's skin was cooler;Haruki's warmth pressed against his palm, a living pulse beating beneath the bones of his hand. Haruki did not turn his hand over. Did not lace their fingers together. He let Renji choose the shape of the touch. That restraint again. More intimate than insistence.
"You are not trapped," Renji said.
Haruki looked at him.
"Neither are you."
Renji almost withdrew. Haruki's fingers shifted slightly beneath his — not holding him in place, only answering.
