Page 231 of Mercy Written in Blood

"Completely."

She handed him the abandoned chart.

"Daisuke is out of surgery."

Haruki stepped away from the pillar before he could think better of it. Renji turned. Surprise crossed his face.

"You were there."

Haruki pretended not to understand the question beneath the statement.

"How is he?"

"Stable. The bullet missed the subclavian artery by less than a centimetre. There is nerve damage, but the surgeon believes function may return."

Haruki exhaled. The corridor seemed to tilt beneath the force of relief. Renji moved towards him, his hand touching Haruki's forearm — clinical in placement, not in meaning.

"He is alive," Renji said again.

Haruki nodded.

"Can I see him?"

"Not yet."

"When?"

"Once he is transferred to recovery."

Haruki looked towards the corridor where Yumi had disappeared. Then back at Renji. A faint crease formed between Renji's eyebrows.

"What?"

Haruki wanted to tell him — that he had seen everything, the way Renji sat on the floor, the patience in his hands, the answer he gave when Yumi asked what bravery meant. He wanted to say that something had changed, that the kiss had not been the moment Haruki began falling, it had only been the moment he admitted he wanted to. This was different. This was the man beneath the doctor. The man beneath the grief.

Haruki knew that saying it would make Renji retreat. Not permanently. But enough to turn a quiet kindness into evidence under examination. So he shook his head.

"Nothing."

Renji studied him.

"You are using that word incorrectly again."

"I'm tired."

"That is true."

"And my coffee was terrible."

"You purchased it from a machine."

"I was desperate."

"That does not excuse poor judgement."

Haruki smiled. Renji's hand remained on his arm. Neither acknowledged it.

"Come with me," Renji said. "You can wait closer to recovery."