“Is this why the winners all moved out of Japan? To escape the wrath of the Leftovers?”
She shrugged. “The Silver Spoons? Nah. From what I know, it was because Chef Sakamoto demanded it.”
I’d always assumed it was about competing with him.
“If I’d left the country, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe none of these horrible things would’ve happened to me.”
“You don’t know that,” Miki said. “And besides, Chef Sakamoto was dead. He wasn’t around to force you out.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Keiko said. “To be a Silver Spoon, you had to win and train under Chef Sakamoto. You managed neither. You were destined to lose from the start.”
“Clearly not,” Miki shot back. “She’s right here, alive and breathing, and you can’t stand it.”
“That’s not what I mean. The Silver Spoons were handpicked to win before they even entered the program. Everyone else, like my brother Kaiyo, was just filler.”
“Sorry, but that’s ridiculous,” Miki said.
“Miki, she’s right.” My gaze dropped to my lap. “The odds were stacked against me from the start. I was a woman, the first to make it into a sushi apprenticeship. No one wanted me there. Even her brother had a better shot than I did. I should’ve failed the first challenge.”
“And yet tiny little you won,” Miki said. “If what Keiko claims is true, don’t you think the Sakamotos could’ve stopped it?”
My chest tightened as a memory surfaced so clearly it felt like I was back in the Sakamoto basement with Reina cackling through the flames.
“Kenji Sanada was supposed to win the final challenge,” I said. “He was meant to be the last chef standing. I remember Reina saying it. He knew what was coming and could prepare. Jiro and I were never meant to walk out of there alive.”
Miki squeezed my hand.
My eyes flicked to Keiko. “If you knew all of this, why did you attack me?”
“Because I thought you cheated or at the very least upset the system. Like you said, you should’ve failed the first challenge.”
“Akiko just said Kenji was supposed to win, not your brother,” Miki shot back. “Either way, your brother would’ve died. Akiko isn’t to blame.”
“You don’t know that. He could’ve won. He could’ve defied the odds, just like Akiko did.”
“I’ve seen pictures of your brother. Trust me, that wasn’t happening.”
Keiko lunged, but the Chopman was faster. His massive hand clamped around her arm, yanking her back into her seat. He held her there until her struggles stopped, then let go and went back to staring straight ahead.
“Don’t you dare talk about my brother,” Keiko hissed. “You don’t get to judge.”
“Oh, and you do?” Miki snapped. “You’re a hypocrite, twisting the rules to suit your story. You burned down Akiko’s restaurant, and now you’re scrambling for excuses so you don’t go to jail.”
“I’m telling you for the millionth time, I didn’t do it!”
“You might not have lit the match,” I said, “but you certainly helped.”
Keiko went quiet, her mouth clamped shut. That silence told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t the only one involved. Others wanted to see me fall. Leftovers.
The train began to slow, brakes screeching as the floor vibrated under my feet. Neon lights slid past the windows. Tokyo was ahead, and whatever Keiko had planned was only a few stops away.
19
We spilled out of the station into the Tokyo night and joined the crowd. Salarymen with loosened ties brushed past; couples hurried along slick sidewalks. The air was heavy and cool, carrying the damp bite of recent rain.
Keiko moved ahead without a word, that same unreadable smile fixed on her face. Miki and I followed through backstreets where puddles pooled on uneven asphalt. The Chopman kept a half step behind me, his silence heavier than our footsteps. Every so often, I caught his reflection in a darkened shop window—the broad frame, the sheathed knife under his coat.
The hum of traffic faded, replaced by a low thrum of voices, bursts of laughter, and music. With each step, the sounds grew louder, closer.
