Page 176 of Mercy Written in Blood

"Fair."

The kitchen occupied nearly the entire rear wing of the house. It had been renovated within the last decade, but the old structure remained visible in thick ceiling beams and a stone hearth no longer used except in winter. Modern ovens stood beneath shelves crowded with bowls, clay pots and containers labelled in several different handwritings. Every surface was occupied — steam clouded one window, a pot boiled over on the stove, and two cutting boards had been placed on the central island, though no space remained around them.

Reina stood at one end slicing mushrooms with unnecessary force. Across from her, Hiroshi Ishida was attempting to rescue a tray of blackened aubergine while insisting it had been intended to char.

Renji had met Hiroshi once before, briefly, at the hospital, where he had arrived in a tailored suit with three lawyers and demanded access to Haruki's medical records. Renji had refused. Hiroshi had called him arrogant. Renji had agreed. Now he wore loose trousers, slippers and a shirt printed with cranes. His silver hair was tied at the nape of his neck, and a dishcloth hung over one shoulder.

He looked at Renji. Then at the apron. His expression became solemn.

"They gave you the turnips."

"Radishes," Renji said.

"I've been told both."

"They're radishes," Reina replied.

Hiroshi lowered his voice.

"No one knows."

"I can hear you."

"That has never stopped you before."

Reina pointed her knife at him.

"The aubergine is ruined."

"It is smoky."

"It is carbon."

"Your palate lacks imagination."

"My palate has survival instincts."

Haruki entered carrying Renji's cake.

"Where should this go?"

"Pantry," Reina said.

Hiroshi looked at the bag.

"What is it?"

"Pear cake."

"Did you buy it?"

"Renji made it."

Hiroshi turned slowly.

"You cook?"

"Why does everyone find that surprising?"