There, on the wooden desk, burned the growing flames. They were crackling and rising up to the ceiling - and that ceiling was not flameproof. How long would it be before the alarm rang? Then its direction shifted, and it crackled, as if it had eaten the most delicious oxygen.

They ate all the paper and deposited more black-orange ashes than Tsuchi could think of. For a long time he was too confused to even collect the fire extinguisher from the side of the room. As he stared, his hand wiped itself on his trousers. He was finding it hard to comprehend what was before his eyes.

"Uh..."

He gave up trying, and strode and tore the extinguisher off the wall. He aimed it with all the concentration he could muster, though using it wasn't his strong point.

"For certainly, someone's talking really bad about you."