Page 136 of Mercy Written in Blood

The words did not sound absurd inside the apartment. That was Renji's first thought. Outside, spoken beneath fluorescent lights or against the noise of the city, they might have seemed theatrical — a question belonging to superstition, horror films or old stories told carefully enough that children could pretend not to believe them. Here, surrounded by objects older than Haruki understood, the question settled naturally. The sword. The records. The books. The repaired bowl. All of it had been telling a truth Renji had spent centuries refusing to speak. Haruki had listened.

Renji could lie. The instinct arrived without effort. It had been trained into him before many of the buildings in Takamori existed. Denial required no preparation, no change of breath, no hesitation anyone human would notice. Ridicule would be effective. So would irritation. He could accuse Haruki of invading his privacy, misinterpreting old possessions, allowing the tunnel attack to affect his judgement. He could ask whether the medication had caused lingering confusion. Haruki would recognise the cruelty in that last one. It would still work.

Instead, Renji said, "Yes."

Haruki did not move. Neither did Renji. The word remained between them. Plain. Irretrievable.

For the first time in centuries, Renji had spoken the truth of his nature to a human who had not already known it. There had been others, long ago, before the Accord perfected concealment, before secrecy became law rather than survival — people he trusted who had learned through accidents, wounds or impossible years passing without change. He could not remember the last time anyone had simply asked. He could remember even less clearly the last time he had answered without evasion.

Haruki exhaled. It was not fear. More like the release of tension held too long.

"I thought so."

Renji studied his face.

"You thought so."

"Yes."

"And still came here alone."

"Yes."

"That was unwise."

"Probably."

"You told no one?"

"No."

"Not Reina?"

"No."

"Ken?"

"No."

"Your mother?"

Haruki's expression shifted.

"Especially not her."

Renji folded his arms.

"You discovered what you believed to be the private residence of a vampire, concealed your destination and entered without protection."

"When you say it like that, it sounds irresponsible."

"It was irresponsible."

"You invited me in."

"After you arrived."

"You also fed me."