Hakkai glanced at Gojyo's bare forearm, and found himself, absently, tallying the wounds: most of them he remembered. Most of them he'd treated himself, after they started their journey. One of them, he'd dug a bead out of.

(I don't know how you got that scar, Elsa had said to him once. It had only been a few months ago when he stood in Gojyo's place, and Gojyo stood in his.)

"It's all any of us get to start with," he agreed. "Among the new shinki, it's all some of us ever get, but others have remembered fragments of their lives.

"I remember most of the few years before my death, but before that, nothing."

The kettle lid rattled behind him, startling him a step away from the stove before he turned to pour his cup of tea.

To the rising steam, he added, "Some of us think it may be a sign the spell that puts us in the role of shinki is weakening."