Page 207 of Mercy Written in Blood

"I remembered enough."

"You remembered fragments."

"I should have known."

"How?"

Renji turned. The anger in him had nowhere to land — at the council, at Shibata, at himself, at nearly a thousand years thatcould not be corrected simply because a damaged journal had survived.

"My father's last years were reduced to arrogance," he said. "My mother became an indulgent woman who allowed humans too much influence. Hana is not mentioned at all."

Haruki said nothing.

"They called us weak."

"Yes."

"And I believed we were."

"You believed you failed."

"I did fail."

"The journal says otherwise."

"The journal is incomplete."

"So is your memory."

The sentence stopped him. Haruki stood several feet away — calm, not unaffected, steady. The one fixed point in a room where Renji's past had become unstable.

"You don't get to trust the fragments that condemn you and dismiss the ones that don't," Haruki said.

Renji stared at him.

"It is not that simple."

"No."

Haruki stepped closer.

"But you have spent centuries treating your guilt as more reliable than evidence."

The words were cruel only because they were accurate. Renji looked away. Haruki closed the remaining distance. He did not touch him immediately — he waited until Renji's breathing changed, then placed both hands lightly around Renji's wrists. No restraint. Only presence.

"I don't know who they were," Renji said. His voice failed on the last word.

Haruki's grip tightened.

"Yes, you do."

"No."

"You know pieces."

"Pieces are not people."

"They are where people begin."