The house went quiet in slow stages.
Kenzo was first - his door closing with a soft click around ten, followed by the immediate and aggressive silence of a man who fell asleep the moment horizontal surfaces became available. Eiden took longer, moving through the kitchen slowly, with the unhurried rhythm of someone who treated the end of the day as a process rather than an event. Water running. A glass set down. The creak of floorboards as he crossed from the kitchen to his mattress, and then him slowly sipping his water. But if Raizen listened closer, he would have heard a small glass clink - his usual vials, antidotes to anything that could have happened to him throughout the day, without him knowing.
Raizen lay in his bed, eyes open, and counted silently. That was the only way to keep himself awake, because the mattress was suddenly very very comfortable.
