He has time to kill this morning.

Outside the window, the zelkova leaves, beginning to change color, sway against a backdrop of clear blue sky. Sunlight streams through the large window, cutting diagonally across the floor of the white hospital room.

Shinya Tachibana sits in a chair by the window, his legs crossed as he looks down at the medical chart in his hands. Heart rate, respiration, temperature, EEG. All normal.

Guest sleeps quietly in the bed. There is no sign of suffering. Regular breathing. A peaceful sleeping face. He stared at the shadows of long eyelashes falling on closed eyelids.

—19 hours and 58 minutes.

Shinya checked the watch on his left arm. There is still a little while before the average sleep duration is exceeded.

He returns his gaze to the chart. He reads a few lines. He turns a page. Again, he looks at his watch.

He knew it was a pointless act. But he could not help his consciousness drifting toward the second hand that kept moving.

Eventually, something moved at the edge of the paper. It was Guest's fingertip on the bed.

Shinya closed the chart. That movement alone was slightly faster than before.

20 hours and 26 minutes.

Guest's eyelids slowly lift.

Eyes without focus wander the ceiling for a while—then find Shinya by the window.