“Taking advantage of the only moment we’ve got.”
He guided me toward the edge of the staging area, near a shadowed corridor, and suddenly pressed me back against the wall. My breath caught. The force of it sent a shiver racing through me. God, I’d forgotten what it felt like to have him take charge.
It had been so long since I’d held him for anything other than a stolen moment here and there. Now only the masks separated us—no guards hovering, no cell door between us, no crowd of people gawking.
His hand slid up my back, pulling us closer, warmth flooding through me in a way I hadn’t felt since Kyoto. When his palm cupped my breast, I stiffened—torn between shock and the ache of wanting more. Heat rushed to my cheeks, hidden mercifully by the mask.
“Jiro.” My voice came out in a nervous giggle. “Kubikiri and Ono might see.”
“Don’t worry. I have magical hands. I’m like David Copperfield—I can make feeling you up look invisible.”
The Chopmen were lost in their own conversation; for a moment, the staging area felt like it belonged only to us. I hooked an arm around him, pulling him closer. His hand kept moving over my breast, brushing my nipple, and heat shot through me, making my knees weak.
“Oh my God, Jiro. What are you doing? You’re crazy.” I moved his hand away, worried we would be caught at any moment.
“I know. Sorry, not sorry.” His voice was low, urgent. “I haven’t had you in ages. I need to figure out a way to get us off this island.”
“Oh, so sex is the reason you want to escape this hell?”
“What can I say? I’m a simple man.”
Just then his hand slipped down my back and squeezed my butt. I shook it off, playful but flustered.
“You’re dangerous,” I said, still catching my breath. “But we need to use this time better.”
There was so much I hadn’t been able to tell him until now. I took his hand and moved us a little farther from Kubikiri and Ono.
“Miki’s trying to help us,” I whispered. “Before my first Soemono, a Chopman named Masaki trained me. He’s the one who showed me how to use the shield properly.”
Jiro stilled, the playfulness gone. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, more measured.
“I always wondered how you knew that stuff. But why would he help you? Because Miki asked?”
“He never said much, only what I needed to know. But knowing Miki…” I exhaled. “My guess is he has a crush on her, and she’s using that to her advantage.”
Jiro’s mouth curved, though his voice lost its easy playfulness.
“That sounds like her. I’ve seen Miki wrap guys around her finger. She can make them do anything. But we can’t just wait for her to pull strings. Masaki might be a weak link, sure, but hoping isn’t a plan.”
His hand fell away, the space between us cooling. The shift in him was instant—the flirt vanished, replaced by the strategist.
“We can’t wait for luck,” Jiro said. “We need to make moves. Get close to Masaki, learn his weak spots, give him a reason to put us in his corner. If he’s crazy about Miki, he’s already scheming to move her off the island. Make him think we’re inseparable from her, and he’ll have to help.”
“But I haven’t seen him in a while. During the challenges he’s always in Ginji’s viewing box, right beside Miki.”
Jiro nodded. “If he’s there, he’s high up. That means power. He could be our way off this island.”
“How do we do that when we’re stuck here?”
“We’re not stuck,” Jiro said. “We’re in the perfect position to move. Flamebound might look stupid, but it’s a blessing in disguise. Remember what Naomi said—the Blades hold the real power. We can drive the narrative, decide what happens. The crowd loves us; the Satos see us as a cash cow. All of that might be our ticket out.”
Naomi and Arata appeared before I could answer, moving at a clipped pace.
“We got the green light. We’re a go,” Naomi said, clapping her hands. “Gather around, everyone. We don’t have much time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” I asked as we pulled into a tight circle.
Naomi’s smile arrived on cue.
