[Shirasu is out, then, for the five votes. Damn.

Well, she pockets (or at least, keeps) all his stuff, save for the mask, which she makes a show of carefully placing on top of the bundle.]

Oh?

You are telling me you spent a week after murdering a singular, small bird, doing exactly nothing untoward?

[The sword creeps ever closer, the ongoing sheen of Shirasu's wet and drying blood reflecting on the edge of the blade.]

Speak. Tell us everything. Kazuaki's death, the situation, and your exploits until now. Let your words flow like your water.