Day Seven

Day Seven.

Shuo Ye got up early. Earlier than on any of the previous days.

The sky was not fully bright yet. The light filtering through the gap in the curtains was gray-blue, veiled in a thin mist. When he opened his eyes, the room was still dark, and all he could see were the outlines of the flowers on the low table—the sunflower tilting its head, the baby's breath huddled together, fine droplets condensed on the red rose petals.

He lay there for a while—in bed... no, in the bedding on the floor.

Over the past few days, he had gradually restored a little of his life. Not back to how it had been before, but he had found a tiny mark somewhere between absolute zero and complete normalcy. He could wash his face, drink water, and eat the things Naruto brought every day. He could even sit at the low table for hours, staring blankly out the window instead of curling up in a corner and staring at the wall.

There were now six bottles of flowers on the windowsill. He had placed each day's flowers in a different container—a cup, a kettle, even a washed soy sauce bottle. They stood in a row along the sill, casting shadows of different shapes in the morning light.

He knew in his heart that today was the seventh day.

Seven days. One week.

In many cultures, seven days marked a cycle. The end of one week, and the beginning of another. Seven days after death was, in many traditions, the day the dead returned home. He did not know what funeral customs were like in this world—the Uchiha Clan's funerals had been handled collectively by the clan, but he no longer had a "clan."

He lay in the bedding, staring at the ceiling.

There were several cracks in the ceiling. Very thin ones, stretching from the corner to beside the light fixture. He had never noticed them before—because before, he had never lain on the floor staring at the ceiling.

Time passed second by second. The light shifted from gray-blue to pale yellow, then from pale yellow to bright white.

It was ten o'clock.

He sat up.

Today, he did not walk to the window.

He walked to the door.

He pulled it open a crack.

The hallway was the same as ever—empty, with a thin layer of dust on the wooden floorboards. Sunlight streamed in through the window at the far end, painting a rectangular patch of light across the floor.

He stood behind the crack in the door, watching the hallway.

Waiting.

Nine fifty-five.

Ten o'clock.

Ten oh-three.

Ten oh-seven.

Footsteps.

Not Naruto's. Not those uneven steps from yesterday, heavy one moment and light the next. These footsteps were steady, exactly the same as they had been for the past six days.

Shuo Ye pressed a hand against the door.

He looked toward the end of the hall—a figure stepped out of the patch of sunlight.

Ino.

Today, she wore a white short-sleeved shirt, her hair loose rather than tied in a ponytail. She carried the same cloth bag as the previous days. She walked steadily, her steps not large, but every one of them firm.

She stopped at the door to Number Thirty-Seven and crouched down.

First, she took out yesterday's flowers—the baby's breath in the cup beside the red roses. Just as her note had said, the baby's breath had not wilted much after a week. Only the petals around the edges had begun to turn translucent, as if soaked in water.

She set the baby's breath aside and took out today's flowers from the cloth bag.

Deep blue.

The petals were tiny, arranged in a disk around dark purple stamens. The whole flower faded from deep blue to indigo-purple, like a tiny patch of twilight sky condensed into a blossom. Its stem was long, its green leaves narrow and slender, their edges lined with fine serrations.

She put the flowers into the bottle.

Then she took a note from her pocket.

Just as she bent down to set it in place, Shuo Ye pulled open the door.

The hinges let out a creak—the door had not been fully opened in a long time, and the hinges had rusted somewhat.

Ino looked up.

Their eyes met.

Shuo Ye stood in the doorway.

Today, he wore a black lounge shirt he had changed into two days ago, wrinkled in several places. His hair had grown half an inch longer than it had been a week ago, falling over his forehead and obscuring the edge of his left brow. He had lost weight—the contours of his cheeks were far more pronounced than before, and his collarbones were faintly visible beneath the collar of his shirt. His eye sockets were sunken, with dark bluish circles beneath his eyes, as though someone had pressed their thumbs there.

Ino crouched at the doorway, the note still in her hand.

Her eyes were red.

Not the red of someone who had just cried—it was the red of someone who had held back for a long time, forcing all her tears back. There was a faint whiteness at the corners of her eyes, but her pupils were dry. She had not cried. At least, as far as Shuo Ye could see, not a single tear had fallen.

The two of them stared at each other for several seconds.

"Every day," Shuo Ye said. His voice was still hoarse, but clearer than it had been a week ago. "Doesn't it get annoying?"

Ino set down the note and stood.

She was half a head taller than Shuo Ye. Twelve-year-old girls had begun to shoot up, their limbs long and slender. Standing in the light at the doorway, her white shirt looked somewhat translucent.

She did not answer immediately.

She lowered her head to look at the deep blue flowers in the bottle.

"Cornflowers," she said. "Their flower meaning is 'happiness.' But I think their color looks better—like the color of your Sharingan. No, not the Sharingan. The Mangekyō Sharingan? The color of your eyes..."

She drifted off topic as she spoke. Then, as if realizing she had said something she should not have, she closed her mouth.

"...Just listen if you want," she added.

Shuo Ye did not respond to the part about the Sharingan.

He asked again.

"Coming every day. Doesn't it get annoying?"

Ino looked at him.

"And you watch every day," she said. "Doesn't that get annoying?"

Her voice was quiet.

But Shuo Ye heard her clearly.

He froze for a moment.

Then he understood what she meant—she knew he had been behind the window. Maybe she had known from the first day, or maybe the third or fourth. He had thought he was hiding well, but Ino worked at a flower shop. Perhaps she was more sensitive than anyone to the feeling of someone watching.

Every day, he had watched her leave flowers and go from the gap in the curtains.

Every day, she had pretended not to see him.

A wall and a curtain separated them, and they had silently maintained that quiet distance. Neither broke it. Neither drew closer.

Until today.

"Just tea," Shuo Ye said, stepping aside to clear the doorway. "Nothing else."

Ino looked at the door that had been pulled open.

Then she took a step forward, crossing the threshold.

For the first time in seven days, this room had a visitor.

The room was darker than the hallway. Though the curtains had been drawn back, they had only been opened a crack, letting in too little light. Several bottles sat on the low table and windowsill, filled with flowers of all colors. The air was thick with the sweet fragrance of lilies, the rich scent of roses, and a faint stale smell.

Ino looked around.

"You brought all the flowers inside," she said.

"They'd wilt outside." Shuo Ye walked to the low table, picked up the kettle, and poured a cup of tea. It was cold. He had forgotten to boil water.

He handed the cold tea to Ino.

Ino took it and had a sip.

"It's cold."

"Yeah."

"Cold tea tastes good too." Ino sat down cross-legged across the low table, cradling the cup in her hands. She looked down at the cold tea inside, then raised her eyes to Shuo Ye.

"You've lost a lot of weight."

"Yeah."

"Dark circles."

"Yeah."

"Your hair needs cutting."

"...Yeah."

"Can you say anything besides 'yeah'?"

Shuo Ye said nothing.

They sat quietly for a while. Ino drank her tea with her head lowered, while Shuo Ye sat across from her, not knowing where to put his hands.

Ino was the first to speak again.

"That bunch of cornflowers," she said. "If you don't like them, you can throw them away. But tomorrow—"

"No need tomorrow."

Ino's fingers tightened around the cup.

"Because—"

"You don't have to come every day," Shuo Ye said.

Ino looked at him.

"I'm already... starting to come back out," he said. The sentence came out with difficulty. Every word seemed to be squeezed out of his throat one at a time.

What he meant was—the seventh day. He had opened the door. That was enough. He did not need more people worrying about him, did not need anyone's sympathy or care. He could keep going on his own.

He always could.

Ino put the cup down on the table with a soft clink.

"You think I came because I was worried about you?"

Shuo Ye did not answer.

"I was worried about the flowers," Ino said. "You can't even take care of yourself. You didn't even change the water for that bunch of baby's breath last time—do you know baby's breath can only last three days without changing the water? I chose baby's breath for you because it lasts a long time, but you still have to change the water."

She said a long stretch of words. All in one breath, without pausing, as if she had prepared it long ago.

Shuo Ye looked at her.

Her eyes were still red. But she did not cry.

"...What time will you come tomorrow?" he asked.

Ino lifted her cup and finished the cold tea.

"Ten."

She stood, walked to the door, and looked back at him.

"The kettle is in the kitchen, right? Remember to boil water next time. Too much cold tea is bad for your stomach."

She gently pulled the door shut.

Her footsteps gradually faded away.

Shuo Ye sat at the low table, looking at the empty cushion across from him. It still bore a slight impression where she had sat.

He reached out, took the bottle of cornflowers from the windowsill, and placed it on the table.

The deep blue petals looked almost black in the shadows, but if he leaned in a little closer, he could see the delicate patterns on them—deep blue, indigo-purple, pale violet, blending layer upon layer like a miniature watercolor painting.

Cornflowers. Their flower meaning was "happiness."

He picked up the kettle and went to the kitchen to boil water.