When Yaha returned to the Butterfly Mansion, the courtyard gate was open.
Two figures stood beneath the covered walkway, one on either side, swords at their waists. Sanemi Shinazugawa leaned against a pillar, with Obanai Iguro standing to his right. Both turned their eyes toward him.
Yaha walked straight between them.
He did not stop or look at them. Even the rhythm of his steps stayed unchanged. His military boots struck the wooden corridor steadily, as though he were strolling through his own backyard.
Sanemi Shinazugawa's fingers closed around his sword hilt, tightened, then loosened.
His lips moved, but nothing came out.
The weight of that black-and-gold Command Token still pressed on his mind. Ubuyashiki had personally laid down the rule: the Hashira were not to interfere.
He could only watch that retreating figure reach the end of the corridor and kick open the master bedroom door.
The door struck the inner wall and bounced twice.
Yaha went inside.
Obanai Iguro turned his head toward the still-swaying door and let out a faint, cold snort. Sanemi Shinazugawa said nothing. He rested the back of his head against the pillar and closed his eyes.
The master bedroom was spacious.
Yaha pulled the black haori from his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor, followed by his inner robe. The fabric landed softly.
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at his hands.
Something moved beneath the skin on the back of his right hand.
Dark-purple lines spread from his knuckles toward his wrist, emerging one after another. They moved slowly, but each new line brought another drop in the room's temperature.
A side effect of absorbing Upper Rank Origin.
Yaha turned his right hand over and examined his palm. He flexed each of his five fingers in