I gasped and woke in the dark, my heart hammering and my neck slick.
“Akiko.”
For a heartbeat I thought I was still dreaming, but then his voice came again, soft and certain.
“Akiko.”
Jiro stood at my cell, both arms reaching through the bars. I slid from my platform and hurried into his embrace. The iron kept us apart, but the way his arms folded around me made me feel safe, loved.
When our lips met, the bars no longer mattered. The dungeon I was trapped in disappeared. We kissed deeply, slowly, as if we were alone—like no one else existed.
I wanted that moment to last forever, but time wasn’t on our side. I pulled away gently.
“Jiro, where were you? I waited for you to come at mealtime, and then?—”
“Shhh. I’m sorry, Akiko. I saw you in the arena. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Is it true? Will I have to fight one of them?”
“There are challenges—one for each of the three days. I don’t think you’ll be fighting… I’m still trying to find out more.”
“Well, three challenges are better than six like before.”
“Yes, but this time you need to be careful of the others. Sabotage is likely.” Jiro glanced over his shoulder. “I have to leave soon.”
“Wait, last night they gave me fake knives, but everyone else had real weapons. Is that how it’s going to be for me?”
“No,” Jiro said. “All the weapons you saw out there were props. The gladiator characters are for show, nothing more. The Blades may look elevated, but they’re not warriors. They’re just private chefs for the Handles. The Handles use them to cook and, more importantly, rake in money from licensing—souvenirs, sponsorships, betting. Every mask, every blade, every move is part of the spectacle. Nokoribi is one big money grab.”
“So I’m not in danger?”
“You are,” Jiro said firmly. “The challenges use real weapons. Blood is the draw, and Ginji knows it. To stop Blades from training in secret with their signature weapon, the games mix it up—different weapons, different scenarios. That’s what I’ve learned so far.”
I frowned. “So even the Blades…”
“Are prisoners,” Jiro finished. “Just like us. Different costumes, same cage. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Flame with your own restaurant, a Chopman, or a slave like me.”
His words sank in. I’d thought survival meant freedom. But even survival came with chains.
“What about the others? Do you know what will happen to them?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to worry about it. They’re competing in the Soemono challenges. One-on-one matches… to the death.”
“They’re fighting to the death? But why? With who?”
“It’s simple—money. The people they’re fighting aren’t from the program, like us. They’re family of those who didn’t survive. I don’t know what drives them to take part. Maybe they got paid some obscene amount.”
My stomach dropped as his words sank in.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, catching the change in my expression.
“The person who brought me here, who tormented me back in Kyoto… she was Keiko Uchida.”
“Uchida? Why does that name sound familiar?”
“She’s Kaiyo Uchida’s sister. Kaiyo from our apprenticeship.”
Jiro’s face mirrored mine, his gaze dropping as realization set in. I wasn’t just competing in the Blade challenges. I would have to face Keiko in Soemono.
