“Actually, I wantyouto screw up,” Jiro shot back, his grin widening.
“Enough!” Iron Face barked, silencing us. “Trigger a shock, and you start over. Three strikes, and you’re out. You have ninety seconds.” He set a timer on the podium. “Begin.”
The buzz of the timer signaled the start. Within seconds, shocks echoed around the room, followed by gasps and curses. I accidentally touched the table while picking up my tweezer, and it bit me with a jolt. The initial shock wasn’t too painful, but it rattled my nerves. I gritted my teeth.Focus, Akiko. Don’t rush. Just stay steady.
I zeroed in on the akami, the largest and easiest cut. Tweezers in hand, I leaned over carefully, ensuring no part of me touched the table. I lowered the tool into the gap, gripped the piece, and pulled. I dropped it onto my mat.One down, three to go.
Glancing around, I saw the others had also succeeded with the akami. I decided to tackle the otoro next, along the belly. A yell broke my concentration as I bent down to align my view. My tweezers grazed the edge of the gap, and the resulting shock shot through me like fire. I yelped, the tool flying from my hand.
Kaiyo was cradling his hand, tears streaming. “The second shock’s worse!” he cried.
Iron Face’s voice cut through the air. “Did I forget to mention? Each mistake intensifies the shock. Hurry, time is running out. The loser will be eliminated.”
My stomach dropped. Frantic, I retrieved my tweezers and forced my breathing to steady. I couldn’t afford another mistake. I refocused on the otoro, carefully gripping and pulling the piece free. Relief washed over me as I placed it on the mat.
“Good job,” Jiro whispered, his tone unusually sincere.
Kenji let out a triumphant “Yes!” as he placed his second piece down. The tension in the room thickened as we moved to the more difficult cuts.
I bent over the chutoro, my hands trembling. “Forty-five seconds!” Iron Face called out. “Who’s going home today?”
Before I could start, a piercing scream froze me in place. Kaiyo stood rigid, his hand pressed against his table. Sparks danced up his arm, his body convulsing violently. Foam bubbled from his lips as his body smoked. Blood streaked from his eyes, dripping from his chin.
For a moment, no one moved. The air reeked of burned fabric. Or was it flesh?He’s being electrocuted.
Kaiyo crumpled to the ground, motionless. No one said a word; the only sound was the hum of the tables. And then, out of nowhere, as if on cue, those same two mystery men in black uniforms appeared, dragging his limp body away like garbage.
The timer buzzed, snapping us out of our trance. Iron Face surveyed us with disdain. “Pathetic,” he sneered. “Chef Sakamoto says you’re the worst group ever, and I don’t doubt him. Today was just practice. Practice for what’s to come. Imagine what the final challenges will demand.” His smile was colder than the steel tables.
What had happened to Kaiyo wasn’t a lesson. It was a harsh reminder that hit me like a third shock. There was only one way out of this place. Survive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dinner that evening was unusually quiet, a rare break from the usual barrage of verbal attacks thrown my way. But the silence offered me no comfort. It felt cold in the absence of Kaiyo. No one doubted he was dead.
I couldn’t stop replaying the sight of him convulsing, sparks crawling up his arm, blood dripping from his eyes. It seared into my memory, haunting me with every bite. Was this apprenticeship worth it? Was a Michelin star worth my life?
Kenji and I sat at one end of the table while Jiro, Taka, and Dori grouped at the other. It felt like we were divided into teams now, alliances formed by default. Survival demanded it.
“Are you okay?” Kenji’s voice was low, barely audible over the quiet tapping of chopsticks. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I stared at my bento, my chopsticks aimlessly stabbing at the grilled fish. “It was supposed to be a classroom instruction,” I said softly. “That’s what Iron Face told us. You heard that, right? It wasn’t just me.”
Kenji nodded. “I heard the same, but he never said it wouldn’t be dangerous. We assumed it wouldn’t.”
His words were maddening because they were true. We should have known better. This place thrived on deception, luring us into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under us. And yet, every time, we fell for it. Kaiyo had paid the price this time.
“It’s our fault,” I said. The words left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“We didn’t kill Kaiyo. This place did. He knew the risks.”
“Did he, Kenji? Did any of us know what we were walking into when we accepted the apprenticeship? This was supposed to be about becoming great sushi chefs, not…whatever this is.”
“Regardless, that’s one less person to compete with. I’m one step closer to the end.” He shoveled rice into his mouth without pause. “Are you finishing your food?”
His bluntness hit me like a slap. I knew this was a competition and that winning was the goal, but his indifference was jarring. Without a word, I slid my bento over to him.
He dumped the contents into his own container. “Those three,” he said, nodding toward the other end of the table, “are our enemies. We need to protect ourselves from them.”
