“My opponent—he’s young, bigger, faster, and stronger than me. How can I win? Tell me. You must know something. You’re the smallest of us all, and yet you survived two challenges.”
“Haru, I wish I had more to tell you, but I was lucky. Just know this: Whoever you’re up against, he’s a normal person like you and me, not some trained fighter.”
Then the Chopmen came, more than usual this time. Six in total.
They moved from cell to cell, handing out costumes to everyone. Even Kai.
“Wait, I already competed in Soemono and won. I’m safe!” he shouted, his voice cracking through the stillness. “This is a mistake.”
“No mistake,” the Chopman said. “You will compete again. You all will compete.”
The cellblock erupted. Voices rose from every corner as my cellmates shouted over one another.
“I should be safe!” Kai yelled.
“You said two—just two each night!” Haru shouted.
“This isn’t the rule!” Yoshi screeched.
Hands rattled the bars, boots pounded against the stone. The Chopmen ignored it all, methodical as ever, sliding clothing through the slots.
My stomach dropped when a Chopman stopped at my cell, mask and clothes in hand. Both challenges. Again. I couldn’t believe it.
Jiro had said once I defeated my opponent, I was done. Masaki had never mentioned me competing in Soemono again either.
I grabbed the sleeve of the Chopman’s suit jacket through the bars. “Why? Why am I being made to fight again? I already beat my opponent.”
“New rules” was all he said before shaking my hand off.
I looked down at my costume and mask, defeated. I’d nearly lost the last Soemono—if it hadn’t been for Kai, I never would have survived. And now I was being thrown back out there, forced to dance for that bloodthirsty crowd all over again.
I sat back on my platform, rage simmering. I’d thought I was outsmarting Ginji, beating him at his own game. I thought winning the audience’s praise was my way forward. But that was the trap.
The more I survived, the more they demanded. The crowd wasn’t cheering for my freedom—they wanted more blood, more spectacle. It hit me… I was the draw now. The star attraction. Winning didn’t buy me time; it fed the machine that wanted to kill me.
The Chopmen barked at us to change, rattling the bars with their iron mallets until the sound rang in my bones. Jiro was the only one who wasn’t given a costume. He wasn’t competing in Soemono.
“Fight hard, Akiko,” he said. “I know what you’re capable of.”
Once we were dressed, they marched us down the corridor. I knew where we were heading: the staging area by the arena entrance. That was where they would hand out our shields and weapons.
Daiki tugged at his mask as he walked, grumbling under his breath, his bulk straining against the uniform like it had been stitched too small.
Sora wore his without a word, movements tight and deliberate.
Yoshi fumbled with the ties, his mask hanging crooked, fear leaking through the gaps.
And Haru—Haru adjusted his mask with exaggerated care, straightening it again and again. The thing was grotesque: a rat’s face stretched long and thin, the snout sharp and pointed, long ears curling back like horns. It suited him too well.
I scanned the Chopmen as we walked, desperately looking for Masaki. But he wasn’t there.
When we arrived, my shield and two knives were shoved into my hands. Kai was given back his butcher’s axe.
He came straight over to me. “We made a good team the first night. What do you say we join forces again?”
“We need to do more tonight,” I said.
I pulled the others in—Kai, Daiki, Sora, Yoshi, and even Haru. “Listen. Our opponents are fighting as individuals. But if we fight as a team, if we cover each other, we can prevail.”
