Another came at him with a short sword. Their blades met three times—fast, ringing, sharp—and then Reo feinted left and opened the man from hip to ribs.
The man looked down at himself.
Reo didn't wait for him to fall.
Then more of Akiro's men poured in from the wings of the stage.
Fuck! Another wave!
Toma was fighting in the far aisle. He'd taken a cut across his shoulder, but he was still swinging.
Still dropping men.
The floor was getting worse.
There was this pull in my chest to go back and help, but Akiro was climbing that staircase.
The kusarigama chain dragged behind him, clanking against each step.
I changed course and cut diagonally across the seats.
The fire mag in my right hand was down to its last rounds. I ejected it mid-stride, slammed a fresh one home, and racked the slide.
Once we got close, two of Akiro's men blocked the base of the staircase and raised their guns.
“Fuck you!” I shot the first one.
Bullets and fire.
The round punched through his shoulder and the flame caught his neck. He screamed and grabbed at the fire.
The second one raised his gun.
Yuki threw his blade. It buried itself in his forearm.
He dropped the gun.
Aki grabbed him by the front of his shirt, headbutted him, and threw him into the seats.
We hit the stairs.
Aki and Yuki flanked me.
We climbed fast.
Two steps at a time.
Then, three.
The stairwell was narrow and dark. Red carpet. Gold trim on the walls. The sounds of fighting below echoed up like thunder in a canyon.
A man appeared at the top of the stairs and fired down at us.
The bullet hit the wall next to my head.
Plaster exploded.
A second shot hit Aki's shoulder. He grunted and stumbled back a step.
