Page 221 of Mercy Written in Blood

Not for now. Not probably. Alive. Haruki had held onto the word for three hours.

He took another drink of coffee. It had gone cold. He drank it anyway.

Across the waiting area, a television mounted near the ceiling played a muted documentary about deep-sea fish. No one watched it. An elderly man slept with his chin against his chest. A woman in a business suit stared at a closed consultation-roomdoor. Two teenagers shared earphones beneath a blanket while their father paced near the vending machines.

At the far end of the corridor, a child sat alone. Haruki had noticed her several minutes earlier — six or seven years old, perhaps younger, wearing a yellow coat over pink pyjamas and holding a stuffed rabbit by one ear. Her dark hair had been gathered into two uneven pigtails, one nearly undone. She sat on a plastic chair with her feet several inches above the floor.

An adult should have been beside her. No one was.

Haruki looked towards the nurses' station. The night nurse was on the telephone, one hand raised towards a man demanding information through the glass.

Haruki stood. He had taken only two steps when another figure appeared from the adjoining corridor. Renji. He had removed his coat. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and a hospital identification badge hung from his collar. Fatigue showed in the looseness of his posture, though his face remained composed. He carried a chart in one hand.

He walked past the child. Stopped. Then turned back.

Haruki paused beside a pillar. Renji looked down at the girl. She stared ahead. Not crying. That was worse. Children who cried still expected someone to answer. This child appeared to be concentrating on not becoming a problem.

Renji crouched several feet away rather than approaching her chair.

"Are you lost?" he asked.

The girl shook her head. Her grip tightened around the rabbit's ear. Renji waited. He did not fill the silence. After several seconds, she whispered, "My mummy is here."

"I see."

"She went through those doors."

The girl pointed towards surgery. Renji followed the gesture.

"Who brought you?"

"My aunt."

"Where is she?"

"She went to call my dad."

Renji looked towards the corridor. No adult hurried back. The child's lower lip trembled.

"She said she would only be a minute."

Renji placed the chart on the chair beside him.

"What is your name?"

"Yumi."

"My name is Renji."

She looked at his identification badge.

"It says Doctor Takahara."

"That is also me."

"Are you a real doctor?"

"I am."