Akiko
We’d spent the whole afternoon onstage, signing autographs and smiling for endless selfies. So many people told us how much they loved Jiro and me, how we were their favorites. Overnight, we’d become something larger than ourselves.
Was this what stardom felt like? A constant swarm of bodies, everyone desperate to be near you? Part of me wanted to enjoy it, but the way strangers clung, stared, and touched without asking—it unsettled me.
Some wives wrapped themselves around Jiro for photos as if he belonged to them, while their husbands fixed hungry eyes on me, licking their lips.
I couldn’t wait to get out of there. All I wanted was some downtime, some alone time with Jiro. A tiny bit of normalcy. When the last of the fans finally moved down the table, I leaned back in my chair and let out a sigh.
“I’m afraid that’s not the end of it,” Naomi said, patting my shoulder. “We have a VIP dinner tonight. People paid a lot of money for mediocre food. Don’t worry, we won’t linger.”
“How will we eat with these masks on?” I said as I pushed my chair back and stood.
“You won’t. You just need to make an appearance, take a few photos. That’s all.”
I fiddled with the edge of my mask as a question burned on my tongue, one I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to.
“Naomi, are Jiro and I participating in Soemono tonight?”
Her hand froze mid-gesture. “Uh…”
For the first time since I’d met her, she didn’t have an answer. She glanced at Arata.
“We’re not sure yet,” he cut in quickly. His smile was practiced, his eyes already sliding away to be sure no fans were listening. “It’s still up in the air. Best not to worry about it. Focus on the fans.”
Jiro and I were about to step off the stage when the crowd broke into a chant: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
I couldn’t believe it. Thank God for my mask—my eye rolls would’ve given me away.
Jiro leaned close. “Let’s just do it and be done with it. I want off this stage.”
He slipped an arm around my waist and drew me in until our masks touched. His other hand slid up my back, settling at the base of my neck. A shiver went through me. It was supposed to be for the crowd, but the warmth of his palm pulled me back to when we were just a couple, real and unmasked.
I wanted to lean into him, to throw my arms around his neck and forget where we were. But the roar of the audience reminded me we were on display. I wouldn’t give them more than the act, no matter how much I wanted Jiro. What was ours had to stay ours.
“This is a bit silly, isn’t it?” I whispered.
“It is. I’d much rather be kissing you for real.”
My chest tightened. “I’m worried about tonight, Jiro.”
“With all this attention, the last thing they’ll risk is us getting hurt,” he murmured. “We’re making them money. Maybe all we’ll have to do is look like a couple in front of thousands. You know, act like ourselves.”
True to her word, Naomi got us in and out of that VIP dinner fast. Jiro and I, along with Kubikiri Nabe and Ono Oroshi, spent no more than twenty minutes playing our parts for a small group of wealthy people.
They were tireless, the perfect pair to keep the crowd hooked. But it was Jiro who sold our act. He led perfectly, playing the hopeless romantic, bowing low to kiss my hand through his mask, slipping an arm around me with perfect timing. He even made a show of lacing his fingers with mine. The crowd loved every moment.
Of course, the minute we were back in the arena staging area, all that Flamebound nonsense evaporated and reality hit hard. We still didn’t know if we’d be forced into Soemono. The Blade challenge was inevitable. No escaping that.
“It’s not looking good for getting out of Soemono,” I said.
“Hey, stay positive.” Jiro pulled me into him.
I glanced over at Kubikiri and Ono. They were huddled together, speaking in low voices, laughter slipping out now and then. They seemed numb to everything happening around them.
“Follow me,” Jiro said as he led me away from them.
“What are you doing?”
