The water in the teacup was still trembling.
Yaha's chopsticks stopped in midair, the piece of wagyu between them never reaching his mouth. He tilted his head a fraction, his nostrils tightening and his brow lowering, every line of his face twisting into pure, visceral disgust.
"Where's that sewer stench coming from?"
Shinobu Kocho set down the lid of her food box. She smelled nothing. The room held only the smoky aroma of meat grilling over charcoal and the dry scent of wooden wall panels.
But she knew what Yaha's senses meant.
Back in the Entertainment District, he had pinpointed a fist-sized Blood Eye through three meters of packed earth. Any smell that could make this man frown was far worse than rotten meat or a dead rat.
"Direction?" she asked, her tone already shifting into mission mode.
Yaha tossed his chopsticks onto the table. The wagyu fell back onto the grill, its fat sizzling as it dripped onto the charcoal.
"Northwest." He pointed with his chin. "Underground. Rust and human blood, wrapped in a sickly-sweet stink."
He stood and covered his nose. The gesture brimmed with revulsion, as though someone had spat into his rice bowl.
"Ruined my whole damn appetite."
Shinobu Kocho had already secured her Nichirin Blade at her waist. She took two steps toward the door before a hand pressed down on her shoulder.
The pressure was light, but its placement was dead accurate, gripping the point outside her shoulder blade where a little force would render her entire arm useless.
"Stay here. Don't go anywhere."
Shinobu Kocho turned her head. Yaha withdrew his hand from her shoulder and tucked it into his pocket. His eyes, their scarlet still not entirely faded, lowered to meet hers with an impatience that said he couldn't be bothered to