Page 83 of Mercy Written in Blood

"That was only the category."

Renji stared at him. Haruki smiled.

"Have dinner with me."

"No."

"Why?"

"You are my patient."

"I won't always be."

"That is not the only reason."

"What are the others?"

Renji could have listed them. Haruki was human. Haruki belonged to a world built around loyalties Renji did not understand. Renji had spent centuries ensuring nobody came close enough to require explanations. He did not form attachments he would outlive. He did not mistake temporary fascination for something worth pursuing. He did not sit beside sleeping patients and let them hold his hand.

The reasons should have been easy to speak. Instead, he said, "You are recovering from anaesthesia."

"That again."

"It remains relevant."

"Ask me when I'm sober."

"I will not."

"You might."

"I won't."

Haruki's eyes began to close again. The effort of conversation was catching up with him.

"I'll be seeing you again," he murmured.

"You are currently under my care."

"Not what I meant."

"I know."

Renji realised what he had admitted. Haruki's smile appeared without his eyes opening.

"Progress."

"Sleep."

"Yes, Doctor."

Renji remained until Haruki's breathing deepened. Only to ensure the medication had not caused respiratory suppression. Only because the monitor had changed. Only because leaving immediately might wake him.

Each explanation arrived neatly. None was convincing.

Dawn had fully broken by the time Renji returned to his office. Sunlight entered through the narrow window above his desk, catching dust in the air. The city beyond was waking into traffic and noise.

Renji closed the door. His notes waited where he had left them — tunnel casualties, injury patterns, times of admission, treatment provided. The work should have steadied him. Facts usually did.