Yu Haibara plopped down on the examination bed, words spilling out of his mouth like beans from a sack. All the complaints he had held in on the way down the mountain finally found their stage:
"When that Mud Clone charged at you with a punch, you put your fist against it without even using any strength!
We were risking our lives out front, and you were holding back laughter behind us, Brother Gu Yue?"
"That wasn't all." Nanami pushed up his glasses, his voice perfectly level, as though he were reading out standardized review data:
"After the cursed spirit crossed the Grade 1 threshold, you had at least seventeen seconds to act. You deliberately waited until Haibara shouted that line before making your move.
You used less than thirty percent of your physical strength throughout, relying entirely on acting to create the appearance of a losing battle. You called it practical instruction, but it looked more like you were waiting for your cue."
The two played off each other as though they had rehearsed their lines beforehand. The composed expression Qingxiao had just put on instantly froze.
The iodine-soaked cotton ball in Shoko's hand paused. At last, she looked up at the man by the wall.
One eyebrow lifted slightly. The cigarette between her fingers was still unlit, and her voice carried a cool hint of amusement:
"Well, well, Guyue Qingxiao. I asked you to help transport some cursed tools while you were there, not treat the second-years' fieldwork like a show.
Those two kids were dodging mud fists while playing along with you. So on this trip to Kyoto, the mission was a side job, and indulging your acting bug was the real business?"
"It was practical instruction." Qingxiao gave a dry cough, a faint red already creeping