Page 6 of Mercy Written in Blood

"I acknowledged tiredness. Not limitation."

"When did you last sleep?"

Renji considered the question. Akiko's expression changed.

"That long?"

"I slept yesterday."

"For how many hours?"

"It depends how strictly you define sleep."

"Renji."

"Two."

Aoi groaned.

"You were here the night before as well."

"There was a ruptured aneurysm."

"There is always something," Akiko said.

She took the coffee out of his hand before he could protest and held it beyond his reach.

"Go speak to the family. Then you are sitting down for twenty minutes."

"I have patients."

"You have colleagues."

"I'm aware."

"Are you?"

He looked between them. Aoi attempted a stern expression, though concern sat too openly beneath it; Akiko had no such difficulty — her sternness was perfectly genuine. Renji held out his hand for the coffee.

"Twenty minutes."

"Thirty."

"Twenty-five."

Akiko returned the cup.

"Agreed."

They all knew he was lying. It was easier to pretend otherwise.

The patient's mother stood when Renji entered the consultation room. She was a small woman in a cream cardigan, perhaps in her late fifties, her hands clasped so tightly the knuckles had gone white. Beside her, the patient's sister remained seated, staring at the floor.

"Are you the surgeon?" the mother asked.

"I'm Dr Takahara."

"Is my son alive?"