The words "You can't close your eyes" in the workbook had yet to dry when a new exercise placed a sheet of wet paper before Che.
That day's training began with a sheet of wet paper.
Kiyo had not wet the paper. He emphasized that three times after entering the classroom, as if trying to clear himself of past charges in advance.
"Today's water has nothing to do with me." Kiyo raised both hands. "I was even very far from the water jug."
Morita Yu glanced at his feet. "You were far from the water jug, but not far from trouble."
"Can trouble walk by itself too?"
Che set down his bag. "If it can, it probably likes you a lot."
Kiyo looked at them in wounded indignation. "You're getting more and more practiced at this."
At the podium, Takuya spread out a stack of wet sheets. The paper had been soaked through with moisture. It was not dripping, but it was heavier than usual. A small circle had been drawn in pale ink on the back of every sheet, with three thin lines outside it, like an unfinished fire mark.
"Today, you won't let the heat stop on the surface," Takuya said. "You'll make the heat approach the mark on the back through the wet paper. You can't let the front curl, and you can't let the ink on the back spread."
Kiyo quietly drew in a breath. "That sounds like making a rice ball cooked without letting the grains get hot."
"More or less," Che said. "A ninja kitchen accident."
Takuya looked over.
Che immediately sat up straight. "I'm listening seriously."
Takuya did not pursue it. He merely distributed the wet paper. When a sheet landed before Che, it carried a faint mingled scent of water and ink.