Page 197 of Mercy Written in Blood

"No."

The answer came too quickly. Haruki stared at him. Renji pressed his lips together. Haruki lifted the book he had rescued.

"At least I saved this."

Renji looked at the cover.

"That is a restaurant guide from 1998."

Haruki turned it over. A faded photograph of Takamori's waterfront occupied the front. He had assumed anything in Renji's apartment was historically significant.

"Why do you still own this?"

"The maps are useful."

"The restaurants closed twenty years ago."

"The streets remain."

"You have current maps."

"That is irrelevant."

Haruki looked at the ruined table.

"You could keep one less thing."

Renji's amusement faded — not sharply, like light passing behind cloud. Haruki regretted the words immediately. He rose carefully, coffee running from his trousers onto the floor.

"I didn't mean—"

"I know."

Renji crossed to the kitchen and returned with towels. His movements were controlled again, but not entirely; the corners of his mouth still resisted composure. He crouched beside the table. Haruki did the same. Their hands reached for the same book. Renji's fingers touched his. He looked at Haruki. The remaining laughter lived in his eyes.

Haruki smiled.

"You properly laughed."

Renji withdrew his hand.

"Yes."

The answer was quieter than expected. Haruki began drying the table.

"I didn't think you could."

"That is insulting."

"I've heard polite amusement."

"I do not laugh politely."

"You do. It sounds like you're acknowledging the theoretical existence of humour."

Renji picked up another book.

"That is absurd."