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[ Distaste wells in his throat, but it's not his own. Bits and pieces of himself should be harder to parcel up and give away. But that's how it's always been — his heart beneath the cherry blossom tree, his soul in the stars. One eye and both lungs cloudy. Carefully, Subaru's next pass over Agent Choi's folded ears is closer to the way he'd carded his fingers through his hair when he was trying to coax him to rest. He knows it's difficult to bear; he doesn't pretend otherwise. He respects him too much.

If it's within his power to press humanity back into this strange outline Sleep has made of him, he will. ]

There was one more thing.