They don’t return home until the sky is dark and the stars twinkle freely. Dinner was Taya’s choice of three restraints, spaced about 2 miles apart from each other, taken to-go and eaten picnic style in a park on the opposite side of town, topped by nighttime sightseeing to catch the city aglow with streetlights. Koneko’s familiarity is almost contagious enough for her to recognize landmarks and to revel in the quiet beauty of a city at night. She forgets her worry and confusion until she returns to the darkened apartment and finds Sage half sitting half dozing on the foot of Midori’s bed.

She hesitates with her hand on the doorframe. Any of the grisly details have passed now; the thief rests calmly under a thin blanket with a bandaged arm peeking out, the herbs, jars, and bandages have vanished back into Sage’s carpet bag, and all the soiled fabrics soak crumpled in the basin of the sink. She yearns to flop onto any empty surface and barely contains herself to walk quietly toward the free bed. Sage half waves at her as she sits. He’s changed his shirt into something white and pajama like, though its billowing nature doesn’t cover how small and tired he looks.

“Koneko’s not with you?”

“She’s downstairs asking about a cot. How, um, is she?” Taya alternates between a whisper and a squeak until she finds the appropriate volume. She hasn’t seen someone so injured before, let alone tried to converse while they sleep.

“Extremely lucky.” He repositions himself to face her on the neighboring bed and then plants himself, treelike. “My guess is that all the alcohol in her system relaxed her muscles and cushioned her fall. I’ve done what I can and I pulled out the bullet, but anything long term is up to her.”

Taya’s eyes widen. “How did you know she fell?”

“Don’t look so shocked, I’m a healer, remember? I know how to read bodies.” He meets Taya’s blank gaze and smiles faintly. He gestures with his hands while he explains. “Injuries are like. . . a language. They explain themselves. The bruises and fractures said she dropped from somewhere high.”

“Oh! That’s amazing!” She fidgets with the bottom of her shirt and stares at her hands. She wonders what else to say to fill the silence while Sage studies her face. Does that explain itself, too, or is it only injuries?

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

She closes her eyes. She barely realizes the words as she says them, but his question bothers her. “Can we start a normal conversation first? Like, hello, how are you, what have you been doing for weeks, nice to see you? Then we can be serious and you won’t need to talk to me again.”

Sage raises both eyebrows and then averts his eyes. “Ah. . . I’m sorry, you’re right.” He wipes his hands on a damp cloth and dries them on the leg of his pants. His pants are speckled. Small dark splotches around his hips and thighs. Splotches of. . . oh. She looks up abruptly. “Hello. How are you?”

“I’ve been okay, which is amazing since everything. . .”

“Koneko told me that you were mugged?”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It was terrifying, and if he didn’t save me I would’ve gotten really hurt since I didn’t have any money. But, well, I guess you already know.” She wraps her hands ariound her mostly bare arms. Exhaustion prompts her to add, “No wonder you didn’t need to ask, you’ve heard it all from her. So, how are you?”

He frowns when her tone goes sharp and sighs. She flushes with the realization of what she just said. “Well, I suppose. Things have been quiet at home and it’s given me time to think.”

“Thinking is good.” Taya feels her ears start to burn. She should apologize. She has no right to be upset with Sage; he lent her money, clothes, a place to live. He saved her life, why should it matter if he doesn’t want her around?

“Why won’t you talk to me?” He reaches his hand across the gap between them and rests it on the top of her knee. So much for normal conversation. She jumps right in to what he cares about.

“So, right, um, you won’t find this useful because I really have no idea. She, um, tried to mug me the other day but this guy interrupted and I was out to lunch and then she fell onto one of the tables and broke it I think. Someone was bullying her so I, um, tried to stop her and the next thing I know I’m on the floor and you’re here and yeah. Um. That’s it.”

“Are you sure?”

Taya nods meekly. She wishes there were crickets in the city, something familiar that would fill the silence between them in a tolerable way. They would be everywhere in Pao, perched on the stairs, pressed against the window screens, chirruping and chirruping a comforting chorus.

“Are you all right?”

Taya nods again, then shakes her head and closes her fingers tight around each other. She watches them shake. “No. Um. I really don’t think I am. I don’t like it here, I don’t know how to do this, the only thing keeping me okay is Koneko because I can’t actually do anything by myself, I thought I was going to die twice which is a lot since I thought I was going to die before, too, and I have all these gaps I can’t remember anything so maybe there’s something really wrong with me and I can’t even feel homesick because there’s nothing. . . I burned it.”

She stops talking when Sage wraps an arm across her shoulder and pulls her close. Her shoulders shake involuntarily. She barely balances across the gap between the beds without leaning against his chest, but he doesn’t seem to complain. “Breathe or you’ll faint again.”

The curious smell of dried blood and alcohol makes her stomach twist. She rests her cheek below his chin and envisions nonexistent patterns in the carpet until her body stops shaking. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t, um.”

“It’s scary.” He rubs a hand in circles against the outside of her arm. “Not remembering things other people remember. Not knowing what you did or how you ended up where you are when you last thought you were somewhere else. You start to think that knowing anything would be better than not knowing and having part of your life exist outside your control, but you can’t change that and it tears at you. You think something must be wrong with you because nobody else has these problems.”

“You actually understand.” The surprise carries through her voice and Sage laughs, quiet and breathy.

“Believe me, I understand.” He rests a hand on the top of her head. “Large pieces of my life are completely missing.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“It gets easier as you grow older. Not that it becomes less scary, but you start to accept it and treasure the memories you do have. Or is that too corny to count as advice?”

Taya ventures a smile. “Slightly.”

“Hm. How about ‘If there’s something wrong with either of us, then at least we’re neither of us alone’?”

“A little better. Very poetic.” She pulls away from his hug of her own accord, though she can’t dissuade his hand from lingering on her head and mussing up her hair. This isn’t resolved, but she feels better and she clings to that after a long and dizzying day. Many days, really.

“Don’t worry about it. Just take care of yourself, and let me know if this happens again.”

“Yes, Sage.” She smoothes her hair out and rubs her arm across both of her eyes to preempt any tears. “Thanks.”

“You will be okay, Taya. Don’t keep it all inside, talk to one of us when you feel bad. We’re good listeners.”

Taya opens her mouth to reply, but two pronounced knocks on the doorframe startle her quiet. Koneko lingers just outside the room carrying pillows, blankets, and a bed on wheels. She spreads her arms wide and grins.

“One rollaway bed. Tada!”

“Ah, thank you, Koneko.” Sage rises from the bed with a barely hidden wobble and gives Taya’s shoulder a squeeze before he goes to the door to help Koneko. “The floor would have been fine, you know.”

“Dame dame! Sagesan is our guest. Don’t sleep on the floor. Besides, was easy.” Koneko lugs bedding under each arm while Sage tugs the bed inside.

“Or you could have lent me a sleeping bag-”

“Sagesan!” Koneko drops both pillows on the floor with a flop that raises feathers into the air.

Taya half-smiles at the ruckus as she sneaks a nightshirt out of her clothing pile and goes into the kitchenette to change.