The sun sank below the courtyard wall, and the duty room darkened first.
Kiyoshi carried his bedding to the foot of the wall.
That cleared the edge of the bed.
He ran a hand over the impressions left in the mat.
He left the lamp unlit. The last light in the courtyard was enough.
The strip of light on the window paper crept downward. By the time it reached the foot of the wall, only outlines remained along the veranda.
He set his belongings on the edge of the bed, one by one. What others would need to see tomorrow went on the outer side. What he had no use for but could not throw away went on the inner side. Each time he set something down, he nudged its edges straight against the bed with his fingers. A palm's width separated the two piles, neither touching the other. The outer pile was neat; the inner one was looser.
At the fourth item, his hand strayed. It reached toward the innermost section on the inner side, then drew back halfway.
He flattened the cloth on the edge of the bed before setting down the next item.
Inner side, outer side-he did not have to think. His hands knew the way.
That last movement had been too automatic. Automatic enough to make him pause.
He put the fourth item back on the outer side and straightened its edges again.
Outside the door, someone moved a box of seat slips. Its wooden bottom scraped against the ground. The scraping receded and stopped below the steps.
He did not turn.
He did not look at that innermost section again.
Before darkness settled completely, a little light still lingered along the courtyard veranda.
Hinata stood in the middle of the veranda, holding a narrow