The door to the Nikubeya burst open, and another squad of Chopmen marched in, followed by Arata and Naomi Sato—the Handles for Kubikiri Nabe.
They were dressed like they’d stepped out of the Met Gala for some fresh air—he in a tailored navy suit, she in a cream dress that shimmered under the torchlight, her diamond rings catching the glow with every movement.
Haru spun, his face red with anger. “Who are you?” he barked, furious they were stealing his moment to flex authority, strutting right up to them.
Naomi’s hand cracked across his cheek. “How dare you speak to me like that.”
Haru staggered back, stunned. “Do you know who I am? I’m a Chopman.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn who you are,” Naomi snapped. “Come near me again and I’ll have your face taken off.”
One of the Chopmen escorting the Satos shoved Haru aside.
“There she is.” Arata’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “Akiko Ono, otherwise known as Chisana Itamae. The Little Sushi Chef.”
A chill slid down my spine. My worst fears were upon me. They’d come for me. Surely they’d offered Ginji some obscene fortune to buy me outright.
“She looks even cuter without her mask,” Naomi said as she and her husband approached. “Open her cell.”
A Chopman unlocked my cell, and Naomi swept in as though she owned the place, Arata gliding in behind her.
“Do you remember us from last night?” Naomi asked, smiling as though we were old friends.
A soft yes was all I could manage.
“We’d like to borrow you for a moment, if that’s all right with you.”
She asked it like I had a choice.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Her gaze drifted over the cells. “We need him too.”
“Can’t break up the band, can we?” Arata added with a chuckle. “Jiro, wasn’t it?”
I nodded. “Last cell on this side.”
Before I could process what was happening, Jiro was freed from his cell, and the two of us were pulled along after the Satos.
“Who are you guys?” Jiro asked as we left.
“Apologies for skipping the formalities,” Arata said smoothly. “We didn’t want to have this discussion in front of the others back there. I’m Arata Sato, and this is my wife, Naomi. We’re the Handles for Blade Kubikiri Nabe… Have you heard of him?”
“No.” Jiro shot me a confused look.
“It doesn’t matter,” Naomi said with a dismissive wave. “This isn’t about him. It’s about you two lovebirds. You’re just adorable together. Like something out of a rom-com.”
My stomach tightened. I’d been sure they were here because they’d purchased me. But had they bought Jiro too? Was that the reason for their sudden fixation on our relationship?
“Well, first we need to do something about the way you two look,” Naomi said, her tone breezy, like she was discussing dinner plans. “A bath is in order, and your boyfriend here needs to be fitted for his new costume.”
My stomach dropped. There was only one reason Jiro would need a costume.
“Wait—are you taking us to the Blade challenge?”
Naomi gave a light laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. We have much more important matters right now. You two will be participating in one of Nokoribi’s most cherished events—the Blade Meet and Greet.”
We exited through the rear of the arena, where two golf carts waited. We climbed in, and soon we were rolling away. Jiro took my hand in his and held it tight.
For the first time since my arrival, I was seeing the island, in daylight—not just the arena and the torchlit dungeon I’d been caged in since my arrival.
