The lights were dark in the main family's courtyard.
Kiyoshi checked the accounts beneath the veranda.
The register lay open on his knees. With a charcoal pencil, he marked each household that had returned and each that remained empty.
Mikoto sat in the doorway of the main room. The bandage around her right hand had just been changed that day, its white cloth still fresh. She had not gone to sleep.
Since the massacre, she had barely closed her eyes. She simply sat there, listening to the sounds beneath the veranda.
Every night had been like this lately.
Tension hung in the air, but the courtyard was quiet.
"Asleep?" Mikoto looked at him.
"No." Kiyoshi did not lift his head. "The accounts haven't balanced. I can't sleep."
He meant it.
Many people had returned over the past few days. Rations, Household Tags, transport from the slope-everything had piled up together. He could not rest until he sorted it all out.
Mikoto chuckled softly. "You didn't panic on the night of the massacre, yet a register has you tied up in knots. That mind of yours is sharper than a grown man's blade."
The light beneath the veranda flickered.
Kiyoshi put down the charcoal pencil and rubbed between his brows.
The night breeze carried a hint of dampness.
Neither spoke. They only listened for movement outside.
"The group up on the slope will arrive tomorrow," Kiyoshi said. "I'll write out the Household Tags first and clear the entries as soon as they arrive."
Mikoto nodded. She asked nothing more, only drawing the cloth over her shoulders closer.
The brazier beneath the veranda had long since gone out. Only a faint gray-white glow remained on the register.
The two kept watch, neither willing to close their eyes first. The light stayed dim.