Page 386 of Mercy Written in Blood

"Sota?"

"Not yet recovered completely."

The blast had collapsed part of the drainage tunnel into the river channel. Recovery teams had found fragments of the device. Parts of the contractor. Sota's coat. One shoe. Enough blood to make the conclusion certain. Not enough remains for the ceremony people would demand.

Haruki looked down at the road. The crowd had dispersed before dawn. Most had left photographs against the police barriers. Rain had damaged many of them. Ishida staff had collected each one. They now occupied a private dining room beneath protective sleeves while investigators compared names against decades of Accord records. Some of the missing would have explanations — ordinary violence, accidents, people who chose to vanish. Others would not. The distinction would matter to the families. It would matter less to those who had learned that unexplained disappearance could conceal something institutions were capable of naming but unwilling to admit.

"What has Mori decided?" Haruki asked.

"That he has not decided."

"That is unlike him."

"He has discovered that every available choice now produces public evidence."

Haruki looked towards Renji.

"That must be difficult."

"Devastating."

Haruki smiled despite himself. The movement pulled at the bruising along his jaw. Renji noticed. He noticed everything.

"You should sit," he said.

"In a moment."

"No."

"Renji."

"You have been standing for one minute and twenty-six seconds."

"You make affection sound administrative."

"It is the only form you reliably obey."

Haruki let Renji guide him back towards the bed. Not because he had been ordered. Because the room had begun to tilt again. He sat carefully on the edge. Renji crouched to check the dressing beneath his coat. Haruki looked down at him. No title. No physician's distance. Just Renji, irritated and frightened in equal measure while pretending to inspect an adhesive edge that had not moved.

Haruki touched the side of his face. Renji stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That is rarely true."

"I was looking."

"At what?"

"You."

Renji's expression softened before he could prevent it. Haruki felt an unfamiliar ease settle inside him. Not happiness exactly. Something steadier. The knowledge that silence no longer required interpretation.

Renji leaned into the touch. Only briefly. Then stood.

"Ken is waiting."