Jiro slid a bottle of water through the bars. “I’ll try to have more information next time.” Then he turned the cart and pushed it away, gone as quickly as he’d appeared.
I sat back on my platform with the bowl in my lap, wondering what these challenges could be. If they weren’t the same as before, then what made them different?
“Akiko.”
It was Haru, the older man in the cell next to me. He pressed against the wall to get closer.
“I heard Jiro talking to you again,” he said softly. “Is he helping you?”
I froze. I wasn’t sure if I should answer. Jiro had said the others’ fate was worse. Worse how? And if we really were forced to compete against each other, what good would it do to start sharing secrets now?
I moved to the front of my cell, pressing against the wall so Haru and I could keep our voices low.
“There will be a competition,” I said carefully.
“And?”
“We’ll have to compete.”
I told Haru what little I knew—what he already suspected. Nothing more. Jiro had hinted at something worse waiting for them, but I couldn’t repeat that. It would only send Haru spiraling.
“He’s helping you. I know he is. You have to help me. You can’t leave me here. I’m old. I can’t survive this bullshit again.”
“I’m telling you everything I know.”
“I get it,” Haru muttered. “You and he have a thing. If he helps everyone, he risks his life—or yours. I can see why he’s keeping the rest of us in the dark. But if you help me, I’ll keep your secret. I won’t tell the others you and Jiro are conspiring.”
“We’re not conspiring.”
“Are you sure?” He chuckled. His footsteps faded as he retreated into the shadows of his cell.
Everyone was on edge. If Haru told the others what he suspected, they’d believe him. I couldn’t risk that. Maybe there was a way to help him. But the guilt gnawed at me. Could I choose one person over the rest? Could I live with deciding who got help and who didn’t?
I wasn’t even sure what kind of help Jiro could offer. Should I share whatever I learned with the others? Or had I already become hardened, selfish?
Was it really an either-me-or-you situation? Was that who I was now?
39
Jiro
Seeing Akiko earlier set my heart on fire and, at the same time, extinguished it. I felt helpless—guilty that I had the cushier situation. I would’ve traded anything to be in that cell and have her on the outside. At least I had some semblance of freedom. But even that thought reeked of hypocrisy.
Because right now I was standing in a room stacked floor to ceiling with animal carcasses. The stench was unbearable—rot, blood, hide. Hundreds of bodies: goats, cows, pigs, and other unrecognizable parts I didn’t want to name. My job? Skin them.
Thankfully, I wasn’t alone. A handful of others worked alongside me, strangers likely trapped in the same situation. Chopmen stood guard, gas masks strapped to their faces to block the smell. Judging by the way they shifted and muttered, they weren’t happy about drawing the short stick either.
And as usual, Sana answered none of my questions. What was this for? What did rotting flesh have to do with the challenges? Under Chef Sakamoto, at least the tasks were cooking-based. This… this was something else.
I sat on a short wooden stool with uneven legs, working the hide off a cow. My nose had finally dulled to the stench—I was no longer gagging with every breath, just enduring it.
But as I kept skinning, my mind drifted back to Akiko.
I couldn’t help wishing for a do-over, to rewind to the moment I should’ve been honest with her. Maybe if I’d let her in on what I was dealing with instead of burying it, we could’ve faced it together. Maybe things would’ve turned out different. Better. Instead, I told myself I was protecting her, and all I’d done was help land her back in a nightmare.
The knife slipped under the hide, warm blood slicking my fingers. I clenched the handle tighter and cut along the flank, pulling the skin back with my other hand. The hide came away in jerks and rips, that raw tearing sound filling the room. Fat clung to the blade, stringy and stubborn, forcing me to saw it loose. My hands were sticky, the stink heavy in my nose, but I kept at it—slicing, pulling, and ripping.
I caught one of the others staring. He looked away quickly once our eyes met. Taking a chance the Chopmen were dozing behind their masks, I slid my stool closer.
