She felt the knife slip from her grasp, saw the blade jut forward and tear into her finger, and she gasped. But there was no pain. No injury. The knife clattered onto the cutting board, still completely clean, and Saya brought her hand closer for inspection, disbelief as she looked over the area she had watched the knife cut, her pale skin remaining unbroken.
Blood dotted the pages of his book, hand paused as he had nearly taken hold of the next corner. He would have to pay for it. He couldn't possibly return it now. Having heard the small gasp from the kitchen Yagi turned, watching as Saya stared absently at her hand.
"It didn't cut me," she stated slowly, rubbing her thumb and index finger together, feeling the friction of her skin and nothing else. At length she turned to Yagi, just visible through the partially opened divider that led into the dining area. "It cut you," she declared, spotting the red on his hand and dotting the once clean parchment.
"That's right," he confirmed. Sh
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