Muichiro Tokito stood on the fourth step of the stone path, holding his wooden sword and waiting for an answer.
Steam rolled over the screen from the hot spring, dampening the ends of his long black hair. He remained still, his vacant eyes showing no emotion.
Shinobu Kocho turned sideways. She opened her mouth, intending to say something.
Nothing came out.
Something spilling out from the pool pinned her in place. It was not killing intent, but something more fundamental. As though some biological instinct were telling her spine not to move, not to breathe, not to exist.
The water beyond the screen was unnaturally still. There were no ripples. Even the rising steam had slowed.
Yaha leaned against the wall of the pool, his eyes closed.
"Brat, did you not understand what I fucking said?"
Muichiro Tokito showed no reaction. He raised his wooden sword from his side to his chest, holding it horizontally, and lightly lifted his toes.
His logic was simple. Oyakata-sama had said the thing belonged to this man now. This man was here. He needed that thing. So he would walk over and have this man take him to get it.
The other man's tone, attitude, and oppressive presence did not factor into his judgment.
Shinobu Kocho saw Muichiro lift his toes. Her throat shifted, but her voice caught inside it.
Muichiro Tokito took a step.
The surface of the pool moved.
It was an infinitesimal change. At the center of the pool, a single drop separated from the water and rose. Defying gravity, it slowly came to hover three inches above the surface.
Shinobu Kocho's pupils contracted.
The droplet began to deform under some invisible pressure. The sphere stretched, flattened, then stretched again. Its volume remained unchanged, but its density climbed exponentially. The water