I spun just in time to see Keiko charging, blade raised, shield tucked close, a raw battle cry tearing from behind her mask.
I barely had time to raise my shield. Her blade slammed into mine, the impact rattling my bones and driving me back a step. Shock tore through me—this wasn’t practice; it wasn’t theater. This was real. A battle to the death.
Before Keiko could press again, I slashed, the blade flashing across her guard. She jerked her shield up to block, but I didn’t stop. I struck again, then again, each cut driving her back.
Masaki’s words hammered in my head: Strike furiously!
I drove into her, blade carving arcs of silver, my free hand bracing the shield as I forced her retreat. Her sword swung wide, trying to break my rhythm, but I was relentless.
Maybe she’d expected me to cower under her first strike. She was wrong. I’d been here before. She didn’t know what it was like to fight for survival. She hadn’t watched someone die a gruesome death right in front of her. I had, and I refused to let it be me.
Keiko broke away, her only defense, to buy space and reset. We circled, eyes locked, blades ready. My breath roared hot against my face, sweat slicking my skin. The narrow eye slits made it harder to track her, but Masaki had strapped the mask tight, so it didn’t shift with every move.
I twirled the sashimi knife in my hand, the motion easy, natural. I’d once thought it a disadvantage, too small against heavier steel. But in this moment, I realized the truth: It wasn’t just a weapon. It was a tool, one I was familiar with.
From the corner of my eye I caught Kai. His shield took the full force of the butcher’s cleaver, and he staggered back, nearly losing his footing. He scrambled, chest heaving, putting space between them. Then he turned his mask toward me, and I knew the eyes beneath were pleading for help.
He didn’t look as sure as I felt. But I couldn’t think about him now. Keiko was my focus—if I didn’t end this, neither of us would survive.
I lunged at her, slashing again and again. She deflected every blow, neither of us gaining ground. I had to change it up.
I feigned a slashing move, then swung my shield, catching her unprepared. The jolt shot up my arm, but it knocked her off balance. I feinted again and slammed the shield into her. This time her eyes locked on it, bracing for the next strike.
I dropped my shield low, her eyes following. I moved quickly, driving my blade in and cutting across her forearm. She yelped and stumbled back.
She was hurt.
Scared.
Her mask jerked side to side, searching the arena for help. And then she locked on something.
My gut clenched. I turned just in time to see the butcher charging, cleaver raised high.
Kai had fled so far, the butcher turned on me instead.
I raised my shield to catch the blow, but the angle was wrong. The force tore through, jolting up my arm. Pain ripped a scream from me as I stumbled back.
He charged, cleaver crashing down. This time I braced, tilted the shield, and managed to deflect it. Then another. And another.
The crowd roared with every desperate block.
But he was strong. Every impact reverberated through my bones, splitting my shoulders and chest. My shield wouldn’t hold forever. And neither would I.
A battle cry ripped through the chaos. Kai came out of nowhere, sprinting low, then vaulting up the butcher’s back. His butcher’s axe came down with all his weight, burying deep in the man’s forehead. The mask split down the center. The brute staggered with Kai clinging to his back and the axe lodged in his face.
I snapped my gaze to Keiko. Her shield sagged, stance faltering, as shock froze her in place. Even the crowd fell silent, the roar collapsing into a stunned hush.
I spun the knife in my hand once, then hurled it. The blade drove into her chest. She gasped, mask tilting down, a crimson bloom spreading across her uniform.
Thump. Keiko dropped to her knees and toppled forward into the dirt.
The butcher wavered with Kai still clinging to his back before crashing down.
For a breath the hush held—then the arena erupted, a frenzy rattling the walls.
Kai staggered toward me and gripped my hand. Before I could react, he thrust our arms high. The stands erupted again, stamping and shouting until the arena shook.
I lifted my chin and locked on the viewing box. Ginji was there, but this time he wasn’t smiling. Around us the crowd rose to its feet, and at that moment, I realized they weren’t cheering for him—they were cheering for us.
