Haru sneered. “Oh, so the shield trick is just something she picked up in life? Lies, both of you. Always scheming, always keeping us in the dark.”
My stomach tightened. Masaki’s quiet warning echoed—I was not to share that he had trained me. I had promised. But Haru’s words were already spreading doubt across the room: Kai, Daiki, even Sora watching me, waiting.
I swallowed hard. “Jiro had nothing to do with that,” I said. “Before my Soemono, I figured out how to use the shield differently. You can’t hold it straight, or the blow will wreck your arm. Angle it, and the force disperses. The first time I got it wrong, I thought my arm had snapped.
“And don’t just hide behind it—use it. Ram with it. Keep your opponent at a distance. And if it comes to it”—I paused, heat rising in my throat—“the edge of the shield will crush a neck if you drive it hard enough.”
“Akiko’s telling the truth,” Kai said at last. “And who cares how she knew it? What matters is she didn’t hold back. She shared it with me, and now everyone here knows what we know.”
“So much for your little smear campaign, Haru,” Daiki said. “Guess it blew up in your face.”
Haru’s head snapped toward him. “Blew up in my face? You idiots can laugh, but when she drags you all down with her, remember who tried to warn you.”
“Are you sure?” Daiki shot back. “Because I saw you leave early this morning with a Chopman. You didn’t think anyone was awake, did you? But I saw. Did you sing for them, Haru? Tell them what you thought you knew, even make a few things up?”
My chest tightened with anger. “How could you, Haru?” I snapped. “You’ve been whispering in their ears, haven’t you? Selling me out, spinning lies, hoping it earns you favor. And now Jiro’s chained up and bleeding because of you.”
I slammed my palm against the bars between us. “You talk about alliances, about survival, but all you care about is yourself. You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind Chopmen while you try to break the rest of us from the inside.”
The cellblock went still.
Kai spoke first, his tone firm. “I believe Akiko. She hasn’t kept anything from us about her fights. If she says Haru’s twisting things, then that’s what he’s doing.”
Daiki let out a dry laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just better at hiding it than Haru is at lying. Either way, it stinks.”
From across the room, I heard Yoshi’s voice wavering. “I… I don’t know. What if Haru’s right? What if she’s keeping things from us? What if we’re the next ones to pay for it?”
An argument exploded, voices rising, everyone shouting over each other. People were turning on one another, and what little trust we’d managed to build was crumbling right before my eyes.
Jiro’s voice broke through the noise. “Stop it! She’s not the enemy. She’s the reason some of you are still breathing. You think she owes you more?”
But even his words were drowned beneath the accusations and shouting.
“Silence!”
The single word cut through the noise like a blade.
Every head turned. For a heartbeat, no one moved.
It was Sora.
The same Sora who had barely spoken since we’d been thrown in here. The same Sora who kept to himself, of whom I sometimes wondered if he was even all there. And now he stood at the front of his cell, hands locked white-knuckled around the bars.
“Do you really think a few scraps of information will save your lives in that arena? If you do, then you’re all dumber than I thought. The only thing that’ll save you is fighting for your life. No one here owes you anything. Not Akiko. Not Jiro. They have their own lives to worry about.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
Kai straightened, surprise flickering across his face before hardening into respect. Daiki’s smirk vanished. Yoshi was quiet, probably too rattled to speak.
“If there’s one truth I know, it’s this: Some of us will not walk out of here alive. But if we keep bickering, tearing each other apart instead of doing what we can to help, then I promise you—none of us will leave alive.”
He tightened his grip on the bars, his voice dropping lower.
“So if you want to prove me wrong, then fight hard. Fight like your life depends on it—because it does.”
Silence fell. No one dared fire back.
Kai lowered his eyes, lost in thought. Daiki leaned against the wall, lips pressed tight, but said nothing more. Even Haru, who always stirred the pot, kept quiet.
