The Grey District slept poorly. The streets here were narrow. Old buildings leaned toward each other as if sharing secrets. Streetlights flickered with a sickly yellow hum. They cast long shadows that did not quite match the objects throwing them.
Kaito Ashen stood in the mouth of an alleyway. His hands were deep in the pockets of his jacket. He did not shiver. The night air carried a damp chill that seeped through cloth. He ignored it.
He had been waiting for twenty minutes. His eyes were fixed on a patch of wall. The brickwork seemed to shimmer like heat haze. Most people would have walked past it. Most people would have blamed their eyes. Kaito knew better.
The cracks were opening faster now. The rhythm had changed.
Kuro said: "You are standing in the draft. It is bad for your complexion."
Kaito did not look down. The shadow at his feet shifted. It formed the vague outline of a lean man. Feathers replaced hair.
Kaito said: "It is moving."
