“That was delicious, Isha,” said Eigo as he sank into his favorite chair in the cozy sitting room just off the kitchen. He patted his stomach and smiled toward Ojisan’s journeyman fixer.

“My pleasure,” she said from the kitchen as she and Kiriai dried the last of the dishes.

“What happened to Aibo and Shisen tonight?” Kiriai asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Isha said and tapped her forehead. “I forgot. Aibo wanted me to tell you she was having dinner at her house. As she put it, ‘To make my parents feel like I’m their daughter even though I spend every waking hour with Kiriai.’”

Kiriai chuckled. The eager girl she’d taken as an aide on her crew for the challenge against the chief hadn’t gone back to her regular life afterward as Kiriai had expected. Instead, she’d continued to make herself so useful that now Kiriai didn’t know what she’d do without her. For a moment, Kiriai felt bad that she wouldn’t be able to discuss the boss’s offer with her protégé.

“Here, let me take those before you drop them,” Isha said and held her hands out for the plates in Kiriai’s hands. “Go have a seat and discuss your serious topics. I’m headed to my room for a good book and an early night.”

Kiriai handed over the dishes and joined Ojisan and Eigo in the sitting room. She sat in a chair next to Eigo, across the room from Ojisan. She didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, but she wasn’t really in the mood for more big revelations. Besides, she had her items to bring up. Boss Akuto’s messenger would be here soon, expecting an answer.

“Ojisan, can I discuss something with you first?”

Her grandfather gave her a nod before raising his teacup, inhaling the aroma and taking a careful sip.

Kiriai took a moment to order her thoughts before speaking. “Boss Akuto called me into his office today and made a proposition.”

Both Ojisan and Eigo were quiet as she related the events from earlier along with the logic behind them.

When she finished, Ojisan didn’t speak for a long moment. Kiriai reached for her own teacup and tried to relax as she sipped, waiting for her grandfather’s response.

“It sounds as if you’ve made your decision,” Ojisan finally said, looking at her with eyebrows raised.

Kiriai glanced toward Eigo, who gave her an encouraging look. With as much confidence as she could muster, Kiriai said, “I’ve decided not to go. The risks to me and our family are too great and I think the leaders can fight this out between themselves, without involving me.”

Her grandfather said nothing for a moment.

“Why?” Kiriai couldn’t handle the silence. “Do you think I should go? After Jaaku had you taken from our home and sent to serve the chief? After everything we risked to get you back?”

Ojisan lifted one eyebrow and Kiriai reined in her emotions. Once she could trust her voice again, she said, “I’d like to hear your opinion on the matter please, Grandfather.”

Her grandfather tipped his head slightly in her direction before speaking. “I agree with all of your reasoning”—something tight inside Kiriai relaxed at his words—“and would normally recommend you decline Boss Akuto’s offer. However, we have an emergency, the one I planned on discussing with you now. Many lives are in danger and your presence at the upcoming tournament could be just the answer we’ve been looking for.”

What? Kiriai stared at her grandfather, confused and definitely not happy. Was he saying he wanted her to go to the tournament? What emergency? Whose lives?

Eigo, for once, had nothing to say either.

His expression grim, Ojisan set his tea in the saucer with a soft clink before standing. “Perhaps it is better if I just show you before explaining. Follow me.”

Exchanging bewildered looks, Kiriai and Eigo stood and followed Ojisan into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He stopped at the last one, one of the iso rooms he used for the occasional sick patient. It even had its own back entrance to minimize exposure when necessary.

Ojisan pushed the door open and gestured for them to enter. Kiriai stepped a few feet into the room and stared. She realized Isha hadn’t answered her earlier question.

“Shisen?”

Her friend and mentor sat on a stool next to a bed where a strange man lay, eyes closed. He was in bad shape, face pale and gaunt as he breathed with shallow pants. Shisen turned and Kiriai almost stepped back in surprise at her appearance. All of her friend’s normally stoic control seemed to have fled. Powerful emotions flickered across her face.

Kiriai looked at the man and then turned to her grandfather. “Who’s this?”

“My Uncle Rosuto,” Shisen’s soft voice answered. Kiriai turned to see that joy had won out on Shisen’s face. She looked from Kiriai back to the man in the bed with a tremulous and shaky smile. “Kiriai. He’s alive. After all this time, he’s alive!” She reached out and touched the man’s hand as if trying to reassure herself he was real. Kiriai stared at the dark bruises on the man’s hand, in stark contrast to the healthy glow of Shisen’s skin.

“Both of you, sit down. There is much to discuss,” Ojisan said and slid the door shut behind himself.

Even more confused, Kiriai still followed Ojisan’s directions and pulled two chairs closer to the bed. Ojisan sat in the more comfortable armchair on the other side of Shisen. Kiriai took her seat, but her anxiety kept her poised on the edge of her chair. She didn’t speak, knowing that getting information would only take longer if she interrupted her grandfather.

But it wasn’t Ojisan who did the explaining.

“Shisen, please inform Kiriai and Eigo of the most recent events. Afterward, Kiriai has something important to share with you.”

Shisen didn’t look like she even heard the last part, a dazed look of disbelief still on her face. Ojisan reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. The contact pulled her back to the present. Shisen shook her head and blinked her eyes before focusing on Kiriai and Eigo.

Finally, Kiriai saw a measure of the usual focus return to her friend’s eyes.

“He just showed up at one of our safe houses last night. Our people did basic fixing on him and sent him here, to Fixer Ojisan, for more intensive care. I don’t know if they even realized I was here, assigned as Ojisan’s bookkeeper and your trainer.”

“Yes,” came Ojisan’s composed voice. “We were both quite surprised this morning when our unidentified injured man turned out to be Shisen’s uncle.”

This time, both Ojisan and Shisen turned to stare, distracted, at the man who lay unmoving in the bed.

“Um, I know this is a big deal for you, Shisen. And I’m glad your uncle is alive. I know how upset you were when the city ’forcers took him.” Kiriai paused and tried to phrase her question delicately. “I’m just wondering what this has to do with me fighting in the brawler tournament or not.” She looked over to her grandfather and tried not to let her impatience show. “Boss Akuto promised to send a messenger after the evening meal. I need to have my answer ready by then.”

Ojisan gave Shisen’s shoulder a squeeze. “Focus, my child. Please share the relevant information with Kiriai and Eigo.” A patient look of caring crossed his face. “Unless you’d like me to tell them?”

Shisen took a breath and let it out slowly. “No,” she said, her eyes clear again, “I want to do it. He’s my uncle.”

The dissident, full of fierce loyalty to her people, the gifted community, was back. Her expression filled Kiriai with unease about the upcoming revelation.

“Last year, the city ’forcers somehow discovered my uncle was one of the gifted. His family blames his latest sweetheart. They think she must have noticed something unusual when he was around and mentioned it to her friends. In any case, ’forcers came just before sunrise to his apartment over his carpentry shop and we never saw him again. One of his apprentices saw him being dragged away and assumed he’d broken a law or run afoul of the hood boss and was being sent to the farms. He disappeared. We couldn’t find him, no matter how hard we tried or how long we looked.” Shisen stopped, the unguarded emotion in her face revealing how much it hurt to have given up looking for her uncle.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference even if you’d been able to find me.” The weak and scratchy voice came from the bed, and everyone turned to look. Rosuto’s eyes were open, but that was the extent of the vitality he had. They’d bruised the whole left side of his face, and the swelling gave him a grotesque, disfigured appearance. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looked sallow and malnourished.

Sympathy stabbed through Kiriai and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear everything the man had suffered.

“I know I look bad,” the man said as he tried to smile and winced. “But we have to find the kids before the ’forcers do. I reached a point, while a captive in the city, where I didn’t care much about myself anymore. But when I heard about the raid and all the children”—Rosuto’s face turned grim now and his resolve made his injuries less noticeable—“I had to escape.”

“What children?” There was a sick feeling in Kiriai’s stomach. This couldn’t be good.

“First, understand how the family nobles treat us, like animals, clever ones that they’ve trained to obey.“ A cold anger burned in Rosuto’s eyes. “They can do whatever they want to force us to comply, including torture and even murder. In fact, Family Tagami is committed to doing just that, wiping out all except the most submissive of the captured gifted.”

He shook his head and struggled to regain control. When he continued, the flat tone of his voice was almost worse than the previous anger. “They imprison us at night and force us to wear control collars during the day. The families are secure in their complete control over our lives. What’s relevant is the fact that they freely speak of their secrets in front of us all the time. They think of us as tools to be used and discarded when no longer useful.” He paused for a moment to rest, his eyes bleak. “Last week, two young nobles, powerful social climbers, were discussing which of the new tools they would choose. They were arguing about the benefits of having a pet empath versus telepath.”

Kiriai exchanged a surprised glance with Eigo, but they both stayed silent, waiting for Shisen’s uncle to finish.

“Names. They were naming names as if choosing a favorite dish from a menu.” Rosuto’s voice shook, whether from anger or weakness, Kiriai wasn’t sure. “And they had a list. A blasted list! One of their fathers is the member on the Chikara City Council in charge of sending orders to the burb chiefs. His son had swiped the list to get an early peek.”

Rosuto’s eyes traveled to each person in the room. Even though he was flat on his back, injured and weak, Kiriai saw a strength that the city families hadn’t been able to break. He was definitely Shisen’s uncle.

“I was ready to die, give up. Instead, I risked everything to escape and make my way back to you. You have to get that list and save all of those children before”—his voice broke for a minute and he had to swallow before he could speak again—“before they have to suffer as I did.”

Kiriai shuddered at the pain she saw in his eyes. With no warning, her own dark memories of torture flared to life, suddenly eager to break loose. Panic rose, struggling to break free and overwhelm her.

No. Not now.

Kiriai forced herself to inhale slowly. She squeezed the arm of her chair and focused on the pain in her palm as she blew her breath out in a low hiss. A warm hand covered hers and squeezed. She looked over, and the concern in Eigo’s eyes gave her the strength to push back the threatening flood of alarm. His expression asked if she was all right and she gave him a terse nod.

“Don’t worry, Uncle. We’ll get the list,” Shisen was saying in a soothing tone as Kiriai wrested back control. Shisen stroked her uncle’s forearm as if she needed the contact as much as he did.

Well, he practically came back from the dead. Focusing on Shisen and her uncle’s needs helped Kiriai pull herself back to the present and slam the door shut on her past.

With control, her sense for strategy also returned. “Outskirters aren’t allowed in the city, except as captives, apparently,” she said, tipping her head toward Rosuto. “I’m not saying the list isn’t important, but how do you expect us to infiltrate the city and steal it?”

Rosuto closed his eyes again, and it was obvious to everyone in the room his strength was fading. Shisen answered for him. “Not Chikara City itself. Southern Core, our burb capital. The Five Families have compiled a list of teenagers manifesting wild gifts. We don’t know how they’re identifying them. Even we can’t do that. Instead of picking them up piecemeal, as usual, which would give us a chance to intercept them, the council plans to round them all up in a single day, across the entire outskirts, all four burbs at once.”

Kiriai’s heart pounded as she visualized what Shisen was describing: young people, her age, being torn from their homes by ’forcers and consigned to the awful life Rosuto had just described. He’d probably only shared a fraction of what he went through in the last year, even with Shisen.

Her voice cold and fierce, Shisen continued. “Chief Kosui will soon have the names of every gifted teen in Southern Burb uncovered by the Five Families, if he doesn’t already. We have to get those names before he sends ’forcers to pick them up. Before”—Shisen aimed a bleak look at her uncle’s form—“they all end up in the hell Rosuto escaped.”

“When?” That was the only real question Kiriai had left. She was afraid of the answer. “How much time do we have?”

“The outskirt ceasefire for the annual brawler tournaments,” Eigo said, dawning comprehension on his face. “All the hood bosses will be at their burb headquarters. This means the chiefs can hand over the lists personally, without using messengers.” He looked at Kiriai, a sick expression on his face.

Now Kiriai understood. It didn’t take a genius to see why Ojisan had pulled her in to hear this before she decided about Akuto’s request. She turned and found her grandfather’s knowing gaze waiting. He relaxed his barriers to let her see his concern but also resignation. He didn’t think there were any other options, or he wouldn’t be sending her back into the clutches of Chief Kosui.

Kiriai had a choice, but it wasn’t much of one. The familiar mix of stress and worry spun through her gut. Her neck and shoulders tensed, adding to the headache already throbbing at the back of her head. So much for the sense of peace and relaxation she’d felt before dinner with Eigo.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, Granddaughter. If there were any other way—” Ojisan ran out of words and for a brief moment, Kiriai could see the tremendous love he felt for her and how much it pained him to put her in harm’s way. It was only a short glimpse, but it helped.

His expression back under control, Ojisan continued. “This is part of what it means to be gifted, Kiriai. We are a hunted people and if we don’t protect each other, the city families will enslave or kill us all. But just as Akuto did, we can only offer you the choice to help, not insist.” Ojisan paused and gave her a short bow of acknowledgment. “Kiriai-chan, you have fought hard and suffered much to do the right thing. If you choose not to do this, know that I will still support and love you.”

Kiriai felt Eigo’s hand squeeze hers again, but like the rest of the people in the room, he remained quiet, giving her space and time to decide. She swallowed down her reluctance and tried to visualize the teenagers who were even now experiencing confusing feelings and powers as their gifts began to manifest. She knew exactly how difficult that was. The transition to adulthood was hard enough without mental gifts struggling to break free. And to have ’forcers kidnap them? Kiriai couldn’t imagine. A small voice inside argued that these were strangers. Didn’t she have more of a duty to protect her own friends and family?

“Nayami . . .” Rosuto was muttering, seeming to fade in and out of a restless sleep. “—aji . . . Shunbin.”

Kiriai’s blood ran cold. “What did he just say?”

Rosuto didn’t answer. Kiriai stood and in two strides was next to the bed. She pushed in front of Shisen, grabbed Rosuto’s shoulder and leaned forward. “Rosuto. What did you just say? Say it again.”

Shisen made a sound of protest but subsided when Kiriai gave her a harsh look over her shoulder. “This is important.”

Kiriai turned back to the ailing man and found his eyes open, though unfocused. She tempered her voice and tried to give it an encouraging tone. “Rosuto, focus, please. Can you repeat yourself?”

Shisen’s uncle blinked, and it thrilled Kiriai to see reason return.

“Names,” he said in a weak voice. “They are names from the list. The two noble sons mentioned a few. Not many, but a few. Nayami, Onaji and Shunbin are the ones I remember.”

The nausea Kiriai felt now far eclipsed her earlier worry. “Scrapper Shunbin? You’re sure they said Scrapper Shunbin?”

Kiriai didn’t want to see the sympathy in Rosuto’s eyes. She just wanted to rewind to an hour ago when she’d decided all of this mess was best left for the leaders to sort out. Before it involved other youth, including one she’d known from her first days as a scrapper. Shunbin had been friendly to a newbie still reeling from the change to her station. How could his name be on the list?

Kiriai knew she had no choice now. Even if she could have justified staying home earlier, now that her friend’s name was on the list, there was only one decision she could make.

Ignoring the turmoil making her head and stomach hurt, Kiriai turned to face the rest of the room. “Say hello to the newest member of Jitaku’s tribute this year.” She shrugged and tried to muster up a little more cheer. “I know I have little chance of finding that list, but I’ll try my best.”

There was a quiet knock on the door before it slid open a crack and Isha poked her head in. “Kiriai? There’s a messenger here for you.”

Every eye in the room turned to her. Without a word, Kiriai walked out to pass on a message that would send her life into a tailspin. Again.