While Maki ate her simple seaweed rice rolls, Kenjaku's dinner elsewhere was considerably more upscale.
Kenjaku sat before an old wooden table covered with a clean white cloth, upon which rested a very expensive-looking set of dishes.
The tuna sashimi on his plate had been sliced paper-thin, its grain distinct and its color translucent, gleaming softly beneath the dim light.
He picked up his chopsticks and lifted a slice of sashimi. Rather than putting it straight into his mouth, he tilted his head to look at Uraume, who stood beside him.
Uraume had his head lowered, a thin-bladed knife in hand as he concentrated on preparing the remaining tuna.
His movements were clean and efficient. The blade slid along the grain of the fish, every cut as precise as if it had been measured.
Ice-blue cursed energy flickered at his fingertips, coating the blade in a thin layer that lightly froze the fish the instant it was cut, locking in its freshness.
Kenjaku placed the sashimi in his mouth, chewed slowly, then sighed in satisfaction.
"Uraume, your cooking just keeps getting better."
His tone was gentle, carrying an almost elder-like approval.
Uraume's hands paused for an instant.
He did not look up. The blade remained against the fish, but his shoulders tensed slightly.
Then he gave a cold snort without even sparing Kenjaku a proper glance.
The next instant, the thin blade in his hand flipped sharply, its tip pointing upward.
An enormous icicle formed out of thin air and shot from his side, hurtling straight at Kenjaku's face with a piercing whistle.
Kenjaku leisurely tilted his head.
The icicle skimmed past his temple and struck the wall behind him, instantly exploding into shards. Tiny ice crystals drifted through the air, settling on his shoulders and hair.
Kenjaku did not