Shuo was woken by his own damned brain.
It wasn't noise, but information darting through his head. The texture of the ceiling, the thickness of the paint, the angle of light leaking through the curtains, the speed of the patch of light moving across the floor-all of it poured into his mind.
He clicked his tongue with his eyes closed, took a deep breath, then opened them again. Things finally settled down a little.
Sitting up, he glanced at his wrist. That silver-gray line was still glowing, a little fainter than last night, like a small lamp still burning just before dawn.
He stared at it for three seconds. The line didn't react at all. Too lazy to puzzle over it any further, he got up, washed, and changed.
The information never stopped the whole time-the wear on his toothbrush bristles, the speed of toothpaste foam running down the cup, the towel's water absorption rate. It annoyed him enough to pause mid-brush before continuing.
I'll get used to it. It's just a bit of a hassle.
When he went downstairs, Sai was still leaning against the wall, already halfway through "A mechanical analysis of ninja tool throwing." Seeing him come out, Sai closed the book, his gaze lingering on Shuo's face for half a second.
"You didn't sleep well."
It wasn't a question, and Shuo didn't deny it. He tipped his chin lazily. "Come on. Let's eat."
The street looked the same as yesterday, but to Shuo's senses, it was something else entirely.
The middle-aged woman thirty meters away would finish chatting and head home in exactly seventeen seconds; the kid sneaking a snack on the second floor to the left was eating kaki no tane-he could tell just from the reflection off the wrapper; the black cat at the