Page 100 of Mercy Written in Blood

It was not encouragement. It was certainty. People believed in Haruki most when he least trusted himself.

The car entered the hospital grounds. Haruki adjusted his coat. Reina noticed.

"You look fine."

"I know."

"You adjusted it three times."

"The seam is sitting incorrectly."

"You're nervous."

"I faced armed killers yesterday."

"And now you're seeing a doctor you flirted with."

Haruki looked at her.

"One of those situations nearly killed me."

"Exactly."

The car stopped beneath the main entrance. A hospital porter approached with a wheelchair. Haruki stared at it.

"No."

Reina opened the door.

"Yes."

"I can walk."

"You can bleed while walking. That is not the same."

The porter waited with the patient expression of someone who had witnessed this argument many times in different forms. Haruki stepped out. Pain folded through him before both feet reached the ground. He caught the car door. Reina said nothing. She did not need to.

Haruki sat in the wheelchair.

"Not a word."

"I haven't said anything."

"You're thinking loudly."

She took hold of the handles. They entered the hospital. The scent reached Haruki first — disinfectant, coffee, clean fabric, the same strange mixture he remembered from drifting in and out of consciousness.

People turned as they passed. Some recognised him. Most recognised Reina. A security officer moved towards them, then stopped when Haruki smiled politely.

"We're here to see the tunnel survivors," Reina said.

The receptionist checked the system.

"Family?"

"Yes," Haruki replied.

Reina glanced down at him. He ignored her.