Page 385 of Mercy Written in Blood

He listened to Haruki breathe.

And stayed.

Chapter Thirty-One

After the Storm

Tokyo looked unchanged from the upper floor of the Casino. That seemed, to Haruki, like an accusation. Morning light spread between the buildings in pale bands. Trains moved across elevated tracks. Delivery vans stopped beneath convenience-store signs. Umbrellas opened and closed along pavements still dark from the night's rain. From this height, no smoke remained visible above the eastern road. The broken concrete had been covered. The blood had been washed from the pavement. Traffic had been redirected around the damage with the efficiency of a city accustomed to absorbing disruption without asking what caused it.

By noon, commuters would complain about delays. By evening, footage of the Casino attack would have been watched, edited, slowed and argued over by millions of people. By tomorrow, everyone would believe they understood what had happened.

Haruki stood before the window with one hand against the frame. He was not supposed to be standing. Akiko had made that clear in language unsuitable for a physician. The portable drain had been removed that morning. The wound beneath his collarbone remained tightly dressed. Each breath pulled againstthe healing lung, and the repair in his abdomen punished movement with a deep ache that made distance difficult to judge. He had crossed less than four metres from the bed. His body treated it as a campaign.

Renji watched from the chair near the window. He wore a fresh black shirt over the bandage at his side. The silver wound had healed more slowly than his other injuries, though he had dismissed the damage as superficial often enough that Haruki now regarded the word as evidence of concern rather than reassurance.

"You have been standing for forty-two seconds," Renji said.

Haruki looked towards the city.

"You counted."

"Yes."

"That is unsettling."

"You are swaying."

"I am not."

"You are."

Haruki straightened. Pain moved beneath his ribs. Renji stood immediately.

"I was proving you wrong."

"You have instead demonstrated poor judgement."

"That is becoming part of my leadership style."

"It was already established."

Renji reached him and placed one hand at his back. Not taking his weight. Only there. The distinction mattered. Haruki allowed himself to lean into the support by a degree.

Below them, the eastern entrance remained closed behind temporary walls. Ishida workers moved through the damaged gaming floor while Accord technicians removed devices they had installed less than twelve hours earlier. The two organisationshad spent the morning watching one another. Neither had attempted to hide it.

"How many reports?" Haruki asked.

"Official?"

"All."

"Seven versions from the Accord. Three internal Ishida accounts. Forty-six videos verified as authentic. At least two hundred altered or mislabelled recordings circulating publicly."

"And the bodies?"

Renji's hand tightened faintly against his back.

"Identified."