The name was fitting. On each arm gleamed a weapon: heavy forearm guards that stretched from fist to elbow, like a butcher’s chainmail glove reforged in steel. The rims were honed to a blade’s edge, and at the knuckles the metal tapered into brutal points, perfect for puncturing as well as blocking.
Naomi ushered me to Jiro’s side, her phone already in hand. She snapped a picture, squealing. “You two are darling together.”
Arata stepped in beside her, both of them gazing at us with a sparkle of triumph in their eyes.
“I have to say, this is brilliant,” he said. “They’re more than a couple. They’re something special.”
Naomi caught his arm, her smile widening. “They’re Flamebound.”
64
Kubikiri Nabe emerged from one of the bedrooms, already dressed in his costume, mask hiding his face, the massive black pot strapped to his back. Even here, standing on plush carpet in the daylight, he looked intimidating.
“It’s time,” Arata said. “We need to hurry back.”
Naomi, Jiro, and I took one cart with a Chopman driver. Arata and Kubikiri Nabe took the other.
On the ride back to the festival, Naomi launched into a crash course on Blade history and etiquette. “The masks are everything. You must guard your identity with your life.”
She went on to explain how the audience fell in love with the characters—why Blades were given outrageous stage names, elaborate costumes, and impossible weapons.
“You see,” she said with a smile, “we’re not selling death. We’re selling rivalry, tragedy, and now love… everything that makes the crowd believe.”
“People died over the past two days,” I said.
“Yes, they have,” Naomi answered lightly. “And while it may seem like that’s the only reason the crowd shows up, it’s not. Death on its own is macabre. Some might come for that, but most aren’t looking for it. They want excitement.”
“They want a spectacle at someone else’s expense,” Jiro spat back.
Naomi turned in her seat so she could face us. Her smile didn’t waver. “I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but true power lies with the Blades. You have the ability to drive the narrative. You can use it to protect yourselves, or if you’re not careful, it can drag you to your demise. Trust me.” She turned back around in her seat. “A Handle doesn’t want to lose their Blade, but it happens.”
“I didn’t get that impression during the Flesh Wall challenge,” I said. “Tetsu Tama seemed intent on killing anyone who got in his way. And he did.”
“Yes, he did,” Naomi admitted. “And he paid for it with his life. This year is very unusual. We’ve gone years without losing a single Blade. Four Blades have died so far—a record. I’ve never seen so many.”
“What do you think is the reason?” Jiro asked.
“Nokoribi changed. The challenges have been tampered with to make them more dangerous. Before, it was against the rules for Blades to sabotage one another. This year, they were encouraged.”
“By who?” I demanded, heat rising in my chest.
“By the one in charge,” Naomi said smoothly. “Ginji Sakamoto.”
My breath caught. “Sakamoto? Is he related to Reina Sakamoto?”
“Of course. He’s her younger brother.”
My stomach turned as I processed what she’d just said. I turned to Jiro. “Wait—did you know?” I whispered. The look on his face told me everything. “All this time you knew.” My voice rose.
He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “I did. But I only found out when I got here. I thought telling you would only wreck your focus when we needed it most. I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. “How could you keep something like that from me?”
“I’m sorry, but with everything else—Soemono, the Blade challenges… it just seemed like another distraction.” He looked away, unable to hold my gaze.
Of course, it made sense. Ginji was part of the Sakamoto horror—behind my torture from the start, likely avenging his sister. Screwing with my head hadn’t been enough, nor burning down my restaurant. He had to drag me here, turn me into a showpiece for Nokoribi, and rope Jiro and Miki into the mess with me.
For a long moment I sat there, staring at the passing scenery, trying to make sense of it all.
