“Mamoru-kun,” Uncle Takashi said with a glance at Mamoru’s clean blade. “You didn’t kill any fonyakalu.” His tone was more surprised than anything else. “You didn’t leave me any,” Mamoru said weakly. Uncle Takashi laughed—a loud, half-mad sound he usually only let out when he was drunk. “We didn’t,” he laughed. “I suppose that was rude of us, na, Takeru-kun?”
