“You may not like me,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with humility. “I bet you think I’m a silly old man, right?”
I stayed quiet, jaw tight, wondering if he really was a silly old man or a conniving one.
The pause ticked until he went on, filling the silence. “Hey, I’m trying to survive just like you. Look, you can think of me what you want, but we’ll have a better shot at getting out of here alive if we team up… You know I’m right.”
I hated that what Haru said was true. Forming an alliance with Kenji and Jiro was how I’d survived the apprenticeship, even with Kenji turning on me in the end. I’d learned how important it was to have someone watching your back, even if they were holding a knife.
“What do you say? Do we have a deal? You tell Jiro to help us both, and I’ll have your back. Okay?”
I kept my silence, letting Haru sit in his own doubt about what my decision might be, and went back to my platform. What I needed right then was for Jiro to come back. Not some desperate old man whispering promises into my ear. I needed Jiro to prove he was still the one who had my back.
42
Miki
The Chopman led me through a series of service corridors, the walls echoing with footsteps and hurried voices. Uniformed workers hustled in every direction, arms full of crates, banners, trays. Whatever was about to happen inside the arena, it was big. Probably the welcome kickoff for Nokoribi.
As we climbed a stairwell, the noise started. A low, trembling beat that rattled through the concrete.
Boom.
Boom.
Clap.
The sound ricocheted through the narrow stairwell, vibrating up the railings into my palms. With every step it grew heavier, harder. Without thinking, I grabbed the Chopman’s arm, clutching a fistful of his jacket—needing something solid to hold on to.
Boom.
Boom.
Clap.
“Nothing to fear now,” he said.
He didn’t shake me off.
At the top of the stairs, he stopped.
“Masaki,” he said softly.
“Is that your name?”
He nodded once, then pushed the door open. A name. After all this time, he’d finally given me one.
We entered a hallway with bright lighting and white tile floors. The volume doubled, so loud it seemed to hum in my chest. Down the corridor the sound grew stronger still, pulling us forward like a tide. Two Chopmen stood guard outside a set of heavy double doors.
Boom.
Boom.
Clap.
By the time we closed in, the floor was shaking under my heels. My Chopman pushed the doors open, and I followed him inside.
A rush of sound slammed into me as I stepped into a low open-air viewing box pressed close to the arena floor. I froze, breath catching in my throat. The stadium rose around me in massive tiers, lights pouring down to reveal every seat filled. Thousands of people stomped and clapped in rhythm, moving as one.
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move. The scale of it—the sheer force of all those bodies was dazzling. Almost enough to make me forget why I was here.
