Page 219 of Mercy Written in Blood

"That is not an answer."

"It is adjacent to one."

Haruki laughed softly. The sound moved through Renji. This time, he allowed the answering smile. Haruki looked at it as though Renji had given him something precious. The tenderness in his face became almost unbearable.

Renji's smile faded. Haruki's hand remained in his hair.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You become alarmed every time you enjoy yourself."

"That is inaccurate."

"You laughed and looked frightened."

"I was surprised."

"You smiled and immediately tried to hide it."

"I did not."

"You're doing it now."

Renji considered stepping back. He did not.

"This is unfamiliar," he said.

Haruki's expression softened.

"You said the feeling wasn't."

"The feeling is not."

"The rest?"

Renji looked at their reflections in the dark windows of the humanities building — two figures standing too close beneath old wooden beams.

"The absence of consequence," he said.

Haruki's hand stilled. Renji continued.

"Most moments of happiness in my life exist beside what followed them. I cannot remember one without the other."

Haruki understood. Renji saw it in his face. The fall of the Takahara had reached backwards through memory, contaminating every joy that preceded it. A meal became the last meal. An argument became the final words spoken. Laughter became what someone sounded like before they died.

Haruki touched his forehead to Renji's again.

"Nothing has followed this yet," he said.

"It will."

"Yes."

The answer was honest. Renji appreciated it. Haruki did not promise safety. Did not claim loss could be prevented by wanting it badly enough. He only remained.

"But it hasn't happened now," Haruki continued. "Now, I'm here."