Page 174 of Mercy Written in Blood

"You were drinking the sauce."

"I was testing it."

Renji looked towards the corridor. Haruki appeared at the far end, wearing dark trousers and a soft grey sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows — no jacket, no watch, no visible weapon. He stopped when he saw Renji. For one second, neither man moved. Then Haruki's gaze dropped to the apron. Amusement broke openly across his face.

"No."

Renji held up one hand.

"Do not."

"I haven't said anything."

"You were about to."

"I was going to say it suits you."

"It is covered in radishes."

"They may be turnips."

"That does not improve it."

Haruki came closer. The ease of his smile altered something in the entrance hall. Renji had seen him at the hospital, bloodied and stubborn. In cafés, carefully ordinary. In his apartment, stripped of authority for one evening. Here, Haruki belonged — not through dominance, but through familiarity. He leaned against the wooden frame beside the door and looked at Renji as though finding him there was both unexpected and entirely natural.

"You came," he said.

"You invited me."

"You could have refused."

"I considered it."

"How long?"

"Until Reina called the hospital and informed Akiko I was attending."

Haruki laughed.

"She threatened you with your department head?"

"She employed administrative pressure."

"That sounds more dignified."

"It was not."

Reina's voice came from the kitchen.

"Haruki, stop flirting and bring him in here."

Haruki went very still. Renji looked at him. From deeper in the house, someone laughed loudly enough to be heard through two walls.

"I am not flirting," Haruki called.

"Then you're doing an excellent imitation."

Renji handed Haruki the paper bag.