A turn loomed ahead. Kubikiri was still struggling, half submerged. Burning alive wasn’t his only threat. If he didn’t climb out soon, his boat would grind him against the wall like meat in a press.
I glanced at the boat ahead; fire was nearly engulfing it. I had to jump now. Another second and it’d be gone.
I didn’t even think. Dropping to my knees, I thrust out my hand. “Take it!”
He hesitated as the space narrowed. Finally, he grabbed hold. His weight nearly yanked me over the side, but I locked my grip and braced with everything I had.
“Come on!” I shouted, straining to haul him up. The gap was tightening, the next turn grinding closer with every heartbeat. He kicked, swung a leg over, then heaved his belly onto the deck. I pulled with everything left in me, and together we tumbled back onto the boat—just as the hull slammed into the steel wall, wood scraping against metal.
The rescue sent the crowd into a frenzy, my name thundering through the arena. But I had no time to take it in. The boat beneath us was breaking apart, fire chewing through the wood.
Kubikiri’s devilish mask fixed on me, and for a moment I thought he’d turn his strength against me. Instead, he yanked me to my feet and shoved my bag of rice into my arms.
“Let’s go!”
“But all of the boats in front of us are on fire. We can’t. We’ll burn to death.”
A cry cut through the roar. I glanced back just in time to see Sumi Yari swallowed whole by fire, his spear vanishing with him into the blaze.
“You trust me?” Kubikiri shouted.
I didn’t have a choice. I nodded. He scooped me up, hugging me against his chest, and surged forward. For such a massive man, he was shockingly quick and agile. I buried my mask against him as he leaped.
We hit a wall of flames. The heat was instant, blistering, then searing pain as fire found every patch of exposed skin. In seconds we were airborne again.
I forced my eyes open in time to see the boat behind us sink in a ball of fire. But the one beneath our feet was no better. The deck groaned and split, flames racing up from below. My arms blistered, and I knew Kubikiri’s flesh was burning too. But he didn’t give up. He continued jumping until we reached his boat.
In one powerful heave, Kubikiri tossed me clear onto the platform. I hit hard, rice clutched tight to my chest. A heartbeat later he tumbled beside me, rolling to a stop.
I lay there gasping, staring up at the black night beyond the arena’s open top. The crowd’s roar pounded down, rattling through my bones. I didn’t need to look toward the viewing box to know Ginji’s expression. The noise said it all.
The crowd cheered loudly: The Little Sushi Chef.
60
Chopmen quickly ushered us out of the arena and back into the staging area, where the Handles waited to receive their Blades. It wasn’t lost on me that two of those couples were there only to collect a body.
Kubikiri Nabe’s Handles rushed toward me as if I were an old friend. The woman threw her arms around me in a sudden embrace. I winced, her touch sending a sharp sting through the fresh blisters on my arms. She pulled back at once, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the raw skin.
“Oh, hold still,” she said quickly. From a satchel at her side she pulled a small tin and dabbed balm across the burns with surprising gentleness. Her husband followed with clean bandages, wrapping my arm tight with the brisk efficiency of someone who’d done this before. The sting dulled, replaced by a cooling relief.
“You were wonderful out there,” the woman said, fastening the final knot. “Just magnificent.”
“Great job,” her husband added, giving my shoulder a careful pat. “Let me introduce us. I’m Arata Sato, and this is my wife, Naomi.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied, still wondering why they were suddenly interested in me after ignoring me until now. I was grateful for the mask hiding my face. It concealed the confusion written all over it.
“You are a star,” Naomi said. “The way you command the audience is incredible.”
“Yes, they really loved you,” Arata added.
“Thank you,” I said again.
It struck me as strange—Kubikiri Nabe stood right beside me, yet they spoke as if he didn’t exist. He was left to spread balm across his own blistered arms, awkwardly working the tin with those massive hands. The sight made me feel both guilty and appalled.
“But I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for Kubikiri.” I gave his arm a soft pat. “He helped me finish.”
“Yes, of course,” Naomi said, her smile fixed. “We’re very proud of him.” She barely glanced his way before turning back to me. “Both of you put on a spectacular performance.”
