The medical center kept its lights low after eight, and Hikaru liked it better that way.
Fewer people. Fewer mirrors. The waiting room held one Ruby second-year with an ice pack on his knee and a vending machine that hummed like it was in pain. Hikaru took the chair farthest from both, sat with her back to the wall, and kept her hood up until the nurse called her name.
Just the surname, said without inflection. Yesterday, on a bathroom floor, the same woman had called her Miss Tanaka, and Hikaru could not tell from her face which version she was thinking of now.
