Page 130 of Mercy Written in Blood

Haruki glanced around again.

"But I was right about the bowl."

"You know nothing about the bowl."

"You kept it after it broke."

"That is visible."

"You had it repaired beautifully."

"The repair is traditional."

"You could have bought another."

Renji said nothing. Haruki's gaze softened.

"You don't replace things easily."

"No."

The word escaped before Renji could withhold it. Haruki leaned back. He did not look victorious. He looked as though Renji had entrusted him with something. It was only one word. That should not have been possible.

"What happened to it?" Haruki asked.

"It fell."

"That is almost impressively unhelpful."

"You asked what happened."

"Who gave it to you?"

Renji looked at the bowl. The original glaze had faded unevenly. A tiny dark mark remained near the base where it had touched the kiln.

"A friend."

"Are they still alive?"

"No."

Haruki did not apologise. Renji appreciated that.

"How long ago?" he asked instead.

"A long time."

"That answer feels different coming from you."

Renji's eyes moved to his. Haruki's expression remained open. No suspicion. Only curiosity. The danger of him was not force. It was patience. He accepted a boundary, then sat beside it until Renji forgot why he had built it.

"Do you keep things from everyone you lose?" Haruki asked.

"No."

"Only some."

"Yes."