Before dawn had fully broken, Kiyo knocked a bowl against something.
It wasn't on purpose. As he carried the porridge, his sleeve caught on the table corner, and the rim of the bowl struck the wood. The sound circled the room. Kiyo startled himself awake, looked down at the bowl, then at Che, as if the noise had escaped from Che's backpack.
"I didn't fail the rehearsal," he said.
Morita Yu pulled the procedure sheet out from beneath a bowl. One corner had already been pressed into a curve. "First, carry your breakfast properly."
Nao ladled porridge by the stove without turning around. "Whoever pours their nerves into their bowl today can wipe it up themselves."
Kiyo immediately held his bowl perfectly straight.
Che sat by the table, tying on his wristguard. Sosuke had tied it for him once last night. This morning, it was his turn, and the end of the cloth was still a little uncooperative. The first wrap was too loose, the second pressed against his wrist bone, and the third barely sat right. The old cloth smelled faintly of dust after drying in the sun. The part against his skin was rough and uncomfortable, but it let him know that his wrist hadn't drifted somewhere else.
Kiyo leaned closer. "It looks injured."
"It was already old."
"Old and injured aren't the same." Kiyo reached out to touch it, but Nao tapped the rim of his bowl with her chopsticks.
"Eat."
Che smoothed the wristguard flat. The end sat a little crooked. He looked at it for a while, then didn't undo it again. If he tried to tie even the cloth end into something as perfect as an answer, he'd be exhausted before leaving the house.
Sosuke didn't come to see them off. His door was