“Z is for ’Zen. ’Zens are the foundation of our society and support everyone with their hard work.”

— Chikara City Elementary Primer

A hand grabbed Kiriai from behind and she twirled around with a smile on her face. The dress she’d borrowed from Shisen for the evening swished around her legs with an unfamiliar but freeing sensation.

“Whoa,” Sento said as he looked down at her and pulled her close to him. “I need to take you out to dinner and dancing more often if you’re going to smile at me like that. You should do that more.”

“Sorry,” she said as a flush rose in her face. She leaned her head on his chest and let herself sink into his warmth as the upbeat music meandered through the soft light of the dance floor. “I’m a little tired and on edge after all the fighting recently,” she said, her voice quiet amidst the din of others out for a night of celebration.

“Well,” he said, and she felt him shrug. “You should definitely be smiling with all of your wins lately. You’re becoming one of Jitaku’s best scrappers.”

The praise felt good, but Kiriai only managed a half smile. When she didn’t answer, Sento pulled her even closer. With one hand he reached down to stroke her cheek and tip her face up toward him. “Are you all right? What’s bothering you?”

His embrace helped her relax and open up. If anyone would understand how she felt, it would be him. “Now that I’ve moved up to the battle arena, the stakes are so much bigger,” she said.

Sento’s expression sobered, and he blew out a breath before answering. “We’re still winning a decent number of battles, Kiriai. The hood war with Raibaru isn’t over by a long shot.”

Kiriai let Sento see some of her turmoil. “Sento, the ’zens have entire properties and businesses staked on our fights. When I lose, Raibaru wins another piece of our hood and Jitaku families lose their livelihood.”

Sento shrugged. “That’s how a hood war works, Kiriai. If we had the advantage in numbers that Raibaru does, we would be doing the same thing to them.”

“I miss the dispute arena and how simple it was.” Kiriai hated the whine in her voice.

Sento, however, gave her a sympathetic look. “I know. It’s much easier to focus on the fight itself when it’s only neighbors arguing over something small. It’s not the same as losing an entire clothing factory in the outer rim.”

“Exactly!” He did understand.

“But it’s our job, Kiriai. We can’t afford to be distracted,” he said. He paused before lowering his voice, his expression intense. “We will win this war. There’s no way we’ll let Western Burb win our hood. Understand?”

Kiriai nodded, letting his resolve strengthen her own.

As if in response to his optimism, a new song started with a livelier beat. Sento grinned, took both of her hands and began to dance with her, his feet moving in a cheerful pattern she couldn’t help but copy, though with much less skill than him.

“How did you get so good at dancing?” she asked, smiling and a little out of breath.

“A big family helps and it’s not that different from fighting,” he said as he took one of her hands and spun her around.

She let out a little shriek as the room spun for a second before she was facing the fighter she’d given her heart to.

For a brief moment, she felt all her worries fall away and happiness, however brief, took its place. The last half a year had been crazy as Jitaku hood recovered from a devastating illness only to have the war with their neighbor ramp back up. During that time, though, Sento had been her anchor, injecting a happy love to combat the darkness everywhere around them. He was right. She needed to smile more.

“There’s your smile again,” Sento said with a chuckle over the bright music. “Twice in an evening, and I haven’t even told you my good news.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been talking about myself the whole time,” she said, kicking herself mentally. “Tell me your good news. We already had dinner and have been dancing for the better part of an hour.” She was the one to pull in close this time and when his arms wrapped around her, she looked up into the blue eyes that were a bright pop of color against his chiseled features and dark hair. “Tell me.”

His expression turned to that of a child eager for a present and she marveled again at how Sento lowered his barriers around her and let her see past the facade of the hard-bitten fighter he showed everyone else.

“Somewhere quieter,” he said and without waiting for a response, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the other dancers.

Kiriai laughed in delight, feeling young and free like she hadn’t in a long time.

They passed through the tables of diners and out into the garden area, ignoring the cheerful comments that followed in their wake.

Sento pulled her to a small table in the corner of the garden, the soft light of a lantern hung nearby adding a smooth edge to his features that made something inside her flutter.

“Have a seat,” he said, a bit out of breath as he pulled a chair out for her on the cobbled patio.

She sat and he followed suit as she messed with the bottom of the dress so it wasn’t completely indecent. It wasn’t the same as sitting in pants.

“You look beautiful, tonight, by the way,” he said.

She looked up and found him staring at her, an intensity behind the smile on his face.

“You were going to tell me your good news?,” she said, hoping he’d think the color in her cheeks was from the dancing.

It was his turn to look a little embarrassed. “Well, it is just a chance of good news—” He held up a hand before she could say anything. “And I realized we’ve both been so busy that a night out, when neither of us has a fight tomorrow, was an opportunity too good to pass up.”

“All right, fine,” she said. “Tell me about your chance of good news.”

“Well, the burb cease-fire starts next week for the brawler tournaments. And I’ve heard rumors that our burb will send reinforcements soon afterward. We could all use a break.” He stopped and his lips quirked up in a small smile.

“And—?” She made a hurry-up motion.

“At least, those of us who Boss Akuto doesn’t pick as tributes to fight in the tournament.”

Kiriai’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe I forgot. That’s tomorrow!” Then she paid attention to Sento’s smile. “Wait? Are you on the tribute list? Is that your good news? How did you find out? No one knows who’s on the list.”

He laughed at her barrage of questions and raised a hand. “No, I don’t know for sure, but I heard that my name was being considered.” His grin burst out and she responded in kind.

“Congratulations! I hope you get chosen.”

Sento’s grin widened further. “I don’t have the best chance after what happened in Southern Core last fall, but even a small one . . .” He hesitated before continuing. “Kiriai, I’ve been working toward this my whole life. If I make brawler, no one could touch me or the people I care about, ever again.”

Kiriai stood up and reached out to him. He stood and pulled her into an enthusiastic hug, squeezing her tightly.

She pushed at his chest. “Air. I need to breathe,” she said with a choked laugh.

“Sorry.” He loosened his arms with an unrepentant chuckle and looked down at her. Her breath caught at the emotion in his eyes. They stared at each other, and Kiriai was grateful that at least this one part of her life was good. He had a chance at making brawler, the dream of every scrapper from their first day. If he made it to the tournament, he’d have a real chance of moving up to fight for the chief himself instead of only their hood—in Southern Core, not Jitaku. The realization punctured her good mood.

Sento’s smile faded, replaced by concern.

“I knew it,” he said, looking chagrined. “You do still want to be a brawler. How could I be so stupid? Here I am so excited about my chance, I didn’t even consider how you’ve lost the chance at your own dream of becoming a brawler.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m fine with this. Happy for you. Really. I’ve had plenty of time to get used to the idea that I’ll always be a scrapper. In fact, one run-in with Chief Kosui in Southern Core is enough for me. The last thing I want to do is go back there and remind him of how much he hates me. I don’t want him coming after me or my family ever again.”

Sento didn’t look convinced. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “Really. I’m happy for your chance, not jealous.”

He examined her for a moment before looking satisfied with her answer.

“What is it, then? What’s bothering you?”

She didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. Part of her was disappointed he hadn’t mentioned it himself. Was making brawler so important that it overshadowed the possibility of moving away to Southern Core?

“Tell me, Kiriai. We don’t keep things from each other.”

She nodded and took a deep breath before speaking. “If you win a promotion to brawler, you’ll leave Jitaku Hood. Permanently.” What she really meant was that he’d leave her, but she didn’t want to say that out loud.

The sad thing was, he looked as if he hadn’t even considered the idea, which hurt even more. She tucked her head into his chest, wishing she could go back to the joy from just moments ago.

“Wait, Kiriai,” Sento said softly, trying to tip her head up to look at him.

She kept her head down, tight against his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

“I barely found out about this. I haven’t had time to consider everything. But we’ll figure it out. We always do.” The words poured out of him and Kiriai grasped at the hope he held out. She was tired and didn’t want to imagine Sento leaving her, possibly permanently.

“I have a slim chance of even being chosen, much less winning. And if that happens, we’ll figure something out,” Sento said, a plea in his voice.

Just inches from her face, Kiriai stared at her hand clasped around his muscular upper arm. The green and white patterns of his Jitaku armband peeked through her fingers. How fitting, since she might face a choice between following Sento and staying to fight for Jitaku. She moved her hand, rubbing it up and down on the complex embroidery as she reminded herself of everything they’d been through together. Surely they could find a solution.

“They allow travel to Southern Core—” he started to say.

Kiriai interrupted, knowing he wasn’t being reasonable. “You know how hard it would be not to drift apart. With the war, months would go by between visits.”

Sento was quiet, probably searching for solutions. He truly hadn’t thought this through.

“My crew!” Sento’s voice was excited. “If I make brawler, I’ll get to choose some of my crew. What about that?”

Kiriai’s heart sank again and she finally looked up at him, letting him see how she felt. “I’d have to leave my family, my hood, my career as a scrapper . . . to follow you to Southern Core.”

“It’s a promotion,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “The pay, the power and influence, all of that is better as a brawler crew member than what you have here as a hood scrapper. I know it’s not becoming a brawler yourself, and you’d have to give up fighting in the arena, but it’s still a step up.”

Kiriai shook her head, unsure how she felt. One thing she knew, the evening had deteriorated and for that, she felt bad.

“Well,” she said, trying to inject some optimism into her voice, “we don’t really have to plan any of this yet. Who knows what will happen tomorrow?”

“But you’re happy for me, right? For my chance, even if it’s a small one?” Sento’s arms tightened around her again, eyes locked onto hers.

Kiriai knew he would never let anyone else see him this vulnerable, so she forced herself to push aside her anxiety about the future and encourage the man she loved. This really was his dream, and she’d known that from the moment she’d met him. She couldn’t ruin it for him. With a smile, she reached up and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Congratulations,” she said when she pulled back, “I hope the boss chooses you tomorrow.”

“You mean that?”

She nodded, sure now. They had learned to sacrifice for each other, for their happiness.

“Yes,” she said with a real smile on her face this time.

His face lit up, and he wrapped her up in another rib-flexing hug. Kiriai didn’t protest this time. They would face the future together.

“Scrapper Kiriai?”

Sento let go. Kiriai turned and saw a messenger boy waiting impatiently. “Yes?” she asked, not pleased at the interruption.

“Boss Akuto would like to see you as soon as possible.”

“Acknowledged,” Kiriai answered by habit, surprised. The boy spun and ran off. There was no use asking him for information he didn’t have.

“The boss? This late?” Sento asked.

Kiriai turned back to Sento and shrugged. “I don’t know. He seems to think I know more about what’s going on in the hood than I do. I think he just enjoys having someone safe to bounce ideas off.”

Sento lifted both hands and took a step back. “Better you than me. I’m perfectly happy to stay far, far away from those in power.” His brows creased in concern. “Be careful, Kiriai. Don’t let your guard down, no matter how personable the boss seems. He can still send his ’forcers for anyone he wants to ship off to the mines and farms. Never forget that.”

Kiriai nodded, her expression serious. Sento knew what he was talking about and she resolved to follow his advice. She gave him one last kiss before turning and heading back into the dojo.

What does the boss want this time? And at this hour? Kiriai wondered before something else occurred to her.

I’m in a dress.