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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AKIKO

I dabbed a wad of toilet paper against my forehead, soaking up the slickness caused by my chore. Cleaning the bathrooms was mindless work, but today, I scrubbed extra fast, eager to finish and lose myself in the library’s quietness. With the stalls finished, I moved to tackle the showers.

On my hands and knees, I scrubbed at the stubborn grime between tiles, my conversation with Kenji replaying in my head. He’d always been my rock here, my constant since day one. His silly jokes and steady presence could brighten even our darkest days. I loved that he always looked out for me.

I hear a but coming.

Yes, there’s one coming.

As much as I appreciated his efforts, they felt…suffocating lately. Kenji walking around like my personal bodyguard wasn’t helping me. Strength and independence. That’s what I wanted people to see. Not a girl with a safety net.

I liked Kenji a lot. When we were kids, I’d wanted him to notice me, to want me the way I’d wanted him. And now, finally, we were on the same page. Only it had taken a literal nightmare to get us here. Still, I couldn’t deny that I still wanted him in my life.

Kenji would make a great, stable, loyal boyfriend who wouldn’t leave when things got tough. And maybe that’s what scared me. That I’d fall into that comfort and lose myself, just like my mother did.

I scrubbed harder, as if the act could scrape away my dark thoughts. I had dreams, big ones. And if I leaned too heavily on Kenji, would I end up like my mother? Broken. Hopeless.

Lately, though, Kenji’s protectiveness had crossed a line. Overbearing. Controlling. It wasn’t malicious. He meant well. But it was too much. His constant hovering made me feel like a liability who needed saving. And in this competition, the weak didn’t survive.

If I can’t stand on my own here, what’s the point? Kenji needs to trust me to fight my own battles. If I get hurt, so be it. If I lose, I’ll know I gave it my all. What I definitely can’t do is depend on someone else to clear the path for me. Not here. Not ever.

Sometimes, being around Kenji made me lose sight of my goal: opening a successful sushi restaurant. That dream was well within reach, with Chef Sakamoto’s help. But every decision I made needed to move me closer to that. No matter how much it might hurt Kenji’s feelings, I couldn’t afford to compromise.

“You’re my only hope of escaping the accounting hell I call a job.” Miki’s plea circled around in my head. She was counting on me. I knew it wasn’t a great reason to win this competition, but it was one. She was my best friend, and her happiness meant a lot to me.

I didn’t know how to handle things with Kenji. Maybe I was hoping they’d work themselves out, but deep down, I knew better. His obsession with Jiro wasn’t fading. It was escalating.

But he was wrong. I wasn’t running back to Jiro.

I was using him, just like everyone else in this competition. Kenji didn’t get to decide who I avoided or who I trusted. I’d do what I had to. Jiro was nothing more than a tool to me.

If that’s true, why do you keep thinking about him?

I’m not. I’m assessing.

Assessing why you weren’t disgusted by that kiss on your neck?

I finally faced what I’d been avoiding. That kiss still held center stage in my mind. And it shouldn’t have, not with everything else happening around us, people being whipped and cut open.

But it stayed with me, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

It was even there when I was with Kenji, my head in his lap and his hands caressing my cheek. No matter how much I tried to dim the light of Jiro’s kiss, it burned bright. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Damn that son of a bitch.

Breaking up with him was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It was exhausting and impossible because of my love for him. But it had to be done. For months after the breakup, I cried. I picked up the phone countless times to call him, only to slam it back down. I stalked his social media, desperate to know whether someone had replaced me. It drove me nuts, but I did it. I got over him.

I think.

Enough, Akiko. Stop obsessing. Jiro is the enemy. He’ll have you out of this competition when he gets the chance. Kenji might be overbearing, but he’s probably right about this.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and someone walked in. I was in the shower area, alone and vulnerable. No one would know if I was attacked, even if I screamed. It was days like this when I wished the bathrooms weren’t unisex.

Whoever had come in was at the urinal. I heard the steady stream, then the flush, followed by the faucet running at the sink. A blown nose. Someone was just feet away, but who? One of my competitors, surely, but which one?

There was a voice. Someone was talking—not like they were on the phone, but to themselves. I pictured them standing in front of a mirror, giving themselves a pep talk. I should have recognized the voice. Only seven of us were left, and I’d heard everyone at meals. But they spoke just low enough to blur into a murmur.

I don’t know why I needed to peek, but I did. Slowly, I leaned out just enough to glimpse the room. Before I could process what I saw, a sudden flash of movement caught my eye. A split second later, sharp pain, then darkness.