The night over Shibuya deepened into a starless mantle of jet black. Inside the federation's medical suite, the pulse of the digital clock on the nightstand marked three in the morning with its neon-green digits. Aibek lay on his side, his gaze fixed on the reflection of the city lights filtering through the cracks in the curtains. The oral dose of time-release anti-inflammatories had begun to lose its protective effect, giving way to a dull, continuous throbbing that originated in his right wrist and radiated in icy pulses up his forearm.
