The ruins of the restaurant had not finished settling.
Blocks of timber and masonry lay neatly piled where the building had stood, their cut surfaces as smooth as sliced tofu. The dust drifted in the night wind for a while, dispersed, then settled, leaving a thin layer of white powder on the flagstones.
The instant the scraps of Daki's three sashes landed on the paving stones, a thin wisp of black smoke rose from them.
The smoke floated less than half a meter before silently dissipating, leaving not even a trace of residue.
But the pain was real.
Behind the lattice screens on the third floor of the Kyogoku House, Daki dug her fingers into her own arm. Her screams seeped through the vermilion window panels and echoed over the silent, empty street, sounding like something tearing inside the cracks in the wood.
It was backlash on the level of the soul.
The instant the sashes were shredded, the corresponding part of her soul had split open too. This was not physical pain, but something deeper, driven straight into the core of her being.
Yaha stood at the edge of the ruins, the toe of his shoe resting on a square block of masonry with a perfectly smooth cut. His left hand in his pocket, he glanced down at the black ash on the ground, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
"Even your probing attacks are pathetic."
He raised his head and looked toward the Kyogoku House. His voice was quiet, but carried by the spiritual pressure weighing down the entire street, every word reached her.
"What, are all the Upper Ranks useless trash who hide in holes and play with strips of cloth?"
Shinobu Kocho stood two steps behind him.
She watched the ruins, all those neatly cut