“I knew for years something like this was going to happen. Why didn’t anyone listen? It’s too late now.”

— Skylar Adams, survivalist media influencer, location unknown

“When are you up?” Eigo asked, his eyes glued to the dispute fight happening in the arena while the crisp fall weather threatened a storm. After the debacle yesterday with the boss, her best friend had stuck by her side. Even now, he kept shooting sidelong looks of concern in her direction. They sat together on the hard bench in the prep pen. Eigo leaned forward and followed the action while Kiriai fidgeted.

“One more and then it’s my turn. And I really need this.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this today?”

Kiriai turned to Eigo and bit back her first response. With exaggerated calm, she spoke. “Eigo, you know I can’t just refuse to fight. That’s a forfeit and my patron loses their dispute automatically.”

Eigo flushed and his gaze flicked back to the current fight on the arena floor. “I know. It’s just—”

“Look,” Kiriai interrupted, her voice clipped. “Am I upset about them taking Ojisan? Yes.”

Eigo kept his mouth shut and just let her rant.

“Do I have a plan to get him back? No! Is that driving me completely crazy?” Kiriai’s voice rose and curious looks turned her way. Kiriai forced her emotions down.

“Yes,” she said in a quieter voice. Then she paused and held Eigo’s gaze. With a trust she didn’t show very many, she let him see some of the internal battle struggling inside her.

“But I can do my job,” she said, her professional persona back in control. “And that’s exactly what I plan to do today. All right?”

Eigo nodded. Neither of them spoke for a beat.

“You can’t wait to pound someone into the ground right now, can you?” His smile was impish now.

Kiriai laughed, probably as he’d intended. “You know me a little too well, Eigo.”

“It’s not much of a leap,” Eigo said, mock amazement on his face. “You’ve always loved the excitement of an arena fight.”

Kiriai chuckled and felt more of her tiredness ease. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea that Eigo was following her around.

“I’m looking forward to today’s fight, but it is getting draining. Lately, none of the scrappers are getting much of a break. Holding dispute fights twice a week is insane. I feel like I’m spending all my time moving between the arena, the fixer, the dojo and my bed.”

Eigo picked up on her more serious mood. “How is the war actually going?”

“You can see the mapped results on the dojo screen just as well as I can.” Kiriai shook her head, her jaw tight again as she thought about another topic she’d rather forget.

“I know, but that doesn’t tell me what will happen. Is the prognosis as bad as some are saying?”

Kiriai took a moment to make sure no one nearby was listening and leaned in close. “The official line is that we’re holding our own. And while it’s true our seniors are winning battles, Raibaru’s are winning more. If we keep losing at this rate, all the outer-ring businesses will belong to them in a few months.”

Eigo’s eyes shot up. “A few months? You’re kidding!”

“No. Western Burb is reinforcing their border hood while our chief is leaving us to fend for ourselves. Something about his confidence in Boss Akuto’s abilities.”

Eigo sat back, his cheer mostly gone now. “But why so many disputes, then? This is the first we’ve ever had them twice a week. They’ve always been on Saturdays, since I can remember.”

“Everyone is worried. Scared people have more disputes.” Kiriai shrugged. “And the hood’s cut helps hire and train more scrappers, maybe recruit some from our allies.” She let out a slow breath. “It just means I’m fighting all the time and hoping that doing my part will help.”

“And that’s different than usual, how?” Eigo elbowed her. “Cheer up. Isn’t this exactly what you’ve always wanted to do?”

Kiriai stared at her best friend, his pale features challenging her to leave her bad mood behind.

“Yes. I’m helping my hood. But I never thought I’d have to do it without Ojisan. Never without him.”

Eigo’s grin faded. Even he knew there wasn’t any way to bring her grandfather back. Instead, he turned back to the fight.

“I hope the two-striper wins,” he said as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the arena floor railing.

“What?” Kiriai could use a distraction. “Why?”

She saw nothing special about the young man wearing two stripes on his white belt. He towered over his opponent but moved with the blundering force of a puppy that hadn’t grown into its strength yet. Kiriai caught the flicker of his fighter’s implant on the back of his neck. It was a copy of the belt he wore—two yellow stripes on a white background. Without conscious thought, Kiriai’s hand went up to brush the slick surface of her own implant. She smiled. Now that—that never got old for her. She remembered how scared she’d been, lying under the fixer’s knife as he’d worked his magic last spring and left her with permanent proof she was an official scrapper for Jitaku Hood. And then the crazy scrabble through the junior ranks in a race against Boss Akuto’s impossible deadline to win an official battle inside a month. Not that she would have hated being sent back as an apprentice in her grandfather’s fixer business, but it wasn’t fighting. And fighting was what she’d been born to do.

“I have to say your senior colors look much better than that dreadful white the juniors are stuck with.”

Kiriai looked at Eigo, startled out of her thoughts.

“Your implant,” he said and pointed. “The yellow.”

Kiriai smiled and nodded. “It’ll look even better with a couple more stripes.”

“What?” Eigo made a mocking expression of surprise. “One blue stripe not enough for you? I don’t think I ever knew you were ambitious.”

Kiriai snorted and turned back to watch the fight. The man’s opponent was giving him a challenge. She had a reach and mass disadvantage. But she made up for that with speed, practically dancing circles around her opponent.

“Wait.” She turned a questioning look on Eigo. “Why do you want the guy to win? Don’t you usually root for the underdog?”

Eigo grinned. “He is the underdog. Or rather, his patron is.”

“Really?” Now Kiriai was interested. She’d been in so many fights lately that she’d stopped paying attention to ’rangements.

“Yes. My scrapper there is fighting for the widow Onjun-san who lives right on the outer edge of the core. She doesn’t have many credits to spare, especially compared to Merchant Goyoku, her opponent. He probably rivals the boss in wealth. The story is, Onjun-san saved and scraped enough credits to buy a new cast-iron stove for her home. Her family had been using a drafty fireplace for cooking and heat, and we both know how poorly those work.” Eigo paused as the fighters in the arena exchanged an intense series of attacks. Eigo whooped a cheer as one of the man’s fists connected solidly and forced a sharp grunt from his opponent that the spectators in the stands could hear. His opponent sagged and immediately scrambled back, hands up to give herself some time and space to recover. Even with his advantage, the man was too slow to catch her. The fight was still on.

“Back to the tragic tale of a wronged widow.” Eigo made an extravagant gesture, straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath before continuing. For just a moment, Kiriai let herself forget her troubles and enjoy Eigo’s storytelling.

“She wanted the best for her family, so she chose an exclusive inner-ring shop that had a selection of fine cast-iron stoves, Merchant Goyoku’s home goods store.”

“And the one she bought broke? So now she’s fighting a dispute with the merchant?”

“Hey! Why’d you have to ruin my story?”

“Because you took too long to get to the point.” Kiriai had a hard time keeping a straight face.

“But that’s the purpose of storytelling. It’s supposed to take a while to get to the point, as long as you entertain along the way.” Eigo looked so disappointed that Kiriai felt bad. Well, only a little.

“Fine,” he said when her attention drifted back to the fight. “The cast iron stove he sold the widow was inferior and developed a crack within a month of use. Merchant Goyoku refused to repair or replace it. So we’re all rooting for her big champion here to trounce his smaller opponent. The ’rangements state Goyoku will have to replace her stove and pay her fighter’s fee, if her champion wins.”

“Well, you’re in luck. He’s going to win.”

“What? Really!?”

Kiriai smiled when she turned and saw the excitement on Eigo’s face.

“Well, there is always a chance for something unlikely to happen, but based on the fight so far, he will win. It’ll most likely be with points, but it’s possible he’ll get a knock-out in before time is up.”

“How can you know that?” Eigo didn’t look like he believed her.

Kiriai turned back to the fight and watched the flow and ebb of the two bodies, both struggling for supremacy. The speed of the strikes, their confidence, the strength of movement, even the judges and their attention or lack of it—Kiriai shook her head. She didn’t know what it was, but in the six months she’d been in and out of the ring, a predictive sense had developed. Sometimes, she just knew how a fight would turn out.

Hey. I get some credit for helping you level up your Observation skill. Wait until you see what level 4 does for you.

Yes, Yabban. Kiriai smiled. How could I forget your help? And what exactly will level 4 give me?

I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.

The flush of Yabban’s pleasure kept Kiriai from insisting on an answer. The training AI had few things she enjoyed more than a surprise and opportunities were scarce, especially since Kiriai had strictly forbidden any form of practical jokes.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me.” Eigo’s tone indicated that it was anything but.

“No,” Kiriai said, “I wasn’t ignoring your question. I got sucked into a conversation with Yabban.”

“Oh.” Eigo perked up, always interested in anything to do with the ancient tech and her developing personality. “What does she have to say?” Then his expression turned suspicious. “Wait. Is she the one predicting the fight outcomes?”

“Not exactly. She’s been helping me level up my Observation skill and the more I focus on analyzing fights, the better I get at it. So I guess you would say it’s a combined effort.”

Eigo nodded and looked thoughtful.

“What?”

Eigo’s ideas were often helpful.

“I was just thinking how valuable your skill could be.”

“You don’t have to tell me. It helps me prepare for fights. Well, at least it would if we didn’t have this crazy schedule, and I had more time to analyze my opponents.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of valuable.”

That caught Kiriai’s attention. “What kind then?”

Instead of answering, Eigo fidgeted, which only made Kiriai more curious. “You can’t say something like that and then not explain.”

“It’s just that there’s a lot of money if you can predict the outcome of fights.”

His implication was immediately clear.

“No!” Kiriai grabbed Eigo’s forearm and squeezed hard. “You’re talking about me betting on fights?” Kiriai dropped her voice to a whisper, a furious one. “Are you crazy? That’s one offense that will get my implant deactivated immediately. You know scrappers aren’t allowed to bet on fights. Ever!”

Eigo had the good grace to look apologetic. “I wasn’t talking about you betting. I know you’d never do that. I was thinking about me.” Eigo held up his hands when Kiriai glared at him. “Nothing big, I swear. Just the occasional small bet that wouldn’t attract attention from anybody.”

Kiriai still didn’t relent. Getting involved in that kind of crowd was dangerous and Eigo knew it. And if she had anything to say about it, he’d stay away from them.

“Come on, Kiriai.” Eigo had one of his affable expressions he used when he tried to convince Kiriai that she was being unreasonable. “Not all of us have a regular stipend and fighting fees pouring in. It’s just one idea for me to earn a few credits.”

Chagrin replaced Kiriai’s outrage. She’d given little to no thought about Eigo’s situation recently. He’d always seemed to get enough from his scrounger family to keep his workshop supplied with the things he liked to tinker with. And he was a fixture at Kiriai’s home, a welcome guest at any meal, so he would never starve.

“You know you’re welcome to anything you need. What I have is yours. You know that, right?”

Eigo looked down, the flush easily visible on his cheeks. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want credits of my own.”

Kiriai sighed. “I understand. I feel the same way. Even though Ojisan always provided for me, it was a rush to bring home my first stipend to add to the family account.” Kiriai tried one more time. “But it’s one thing to sell relics you’ve scrounged or things you’ve built in your workshop. It’s another thing altogether to bet on fights, right?”

“Well, if I were just guessing, sure. But you’re accurate most of the time about who wins, right? What’s the harm in placing a few small bets?”

Kiriai shook her head, a wry smile on her face. “Even if that’s true, it’s still not worth it. It’s too dangerous. The ’forcers keep a close eye on the betting. It’s a big source of hood income and they don’t tolerate cheating.”

“It’s not cheating if I’m the one betting, not you.”

“It is if I’m providing inside information for you.”

Eigo shook his head. “It isn’t inside information. It’s just your opinion. You wouldn’t be passing me anything secret about the fights.”

Kiriai folded her arms and sat back. She was done arguing.

Eigo sighed and gave her a sheepish shrug. “Well, I didn’t say I would do it. It was just a passing thought.”

Kiriai turned back to her friend. “Tell me you’ll drop it.”

Eigo hesitated enough to worry Kiriai. “How about I talk to you first if I decide to pursue it?”

Kiriai shook her head, but sat back, knowing that was all the concession she was likely to get.

“Yame!” The barked order to stop the fight pulled their attention back to the ring. The first round was over and Kiriai knew exactly what the fighters were feeling as they relaxed their stances and the full weight of exhaustion crashed down. Both scrappers retreated to their corners. Apprentice fixers moved in from other rings to bandage and tend to them. They only had time for a few hasty gulps of water before the judge was calling them back to the ring. The rest of the fight was intense as each fighter took turns having the advantage. It was one of the better fights Kiriai had seen in the dispute arena in a while. That and Eigo’s influence combined to put a smile on her face for the rest of the fight. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing it.

“Yes!” Eigo jumped to his feet and pumped his fist in the air. “He did it!” Eigo turned and grabbed Kiriai in a hug and pounded her on the back. For just a moment, Kiriai froze, which was strange because a hug from Eigo wasn’t anything unusual. Eigo stiffened in response and immediately pulled back, his hands still on her shoulders.

“Something wrong?”

Kiriai had no idea. She forced a grin to her face and shook her head. “No. I’m just excited for you and—” Kiriai drew a blank.

“Widow Onjun.”

“Yes, I’m happy for Widow Onjun.”

Eigo gave her shake and then let go to do a quick happy dance along with a victorious chant. “Widow Onjun got her new stove!”

Now Kiriai felt a real smile emerge as she watched Eigo’s antics. Something must have occurred to him because he used his lanky height to stretch up and scan the stands behind them. Unable to see what he was looking at, Kiriai waited for him to explain. With a chortle, he turned back to her and sat down.

“What?”

“Sorry, I was hoping to see Merchant Goyoku’s reaction to his loss.”

“And?” asked Kiriai when he didn’t elaborate.

Eigo sat back with a satisfied sigh. “It was perfect. Sometimes I love this system we have here, don’t you?”

“Well, considering it’s what I do for a living, I’d say so.”

“No. I know you love to fight and you’re good at it. I just think there is something great about a world where a little widow woman can take down someone with as much money and power as Goyoku. It doesn’t always work out that way, but it does enough for me to appreciate it, you know?”