The Week Between

The first night in the barracks, no one slept.

Some people cried. Others paced between the bunks, restless and afraid. A girl two rows over threw up into a trash can. Someone else was praying quietly, words I couldn't understand.

I lay on my back, staring at the metal ceiling, feeling the new crystal pulse beneath my skin.

Six months.

I'd bought six months.

Now I just had to survive seven days.

"Lane?"

Hoshino's voice drifted over from the next bunk.

"Yeah?"

"You awake?"

"Obviously."

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

I turned my head. She was lying on her side, facing me, her eyes too bright in the dim light.

"No," I said.

"Me neither." She was quiet for a moment. "Do you think we made the right choice?"

I thought about Mrs. Rennik. About Uncle Marcus signing the waiver. About the way my old crystal had looked in the disposal bin, gray and lifeless.

"I don't think we had a choice," I said.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Me neither."

Silence settled between us.

Then she smiled, small and fragile. "Well. At least we're in this together, right?"

"Right."

"Neighbors in life. Neighbors in probable death."

I almost laughed. "That's dark."

"I know." She rolled onto her back. "But if I don't joke about it, I'll scream."

I understood that.

Around us, the barracks slowly quieted. Exhaustion won over fear, one person at a time.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I didn't succeed.

Day One

Morning came too fast.

A bell rang at 0600, sharp and jarring. People stumbled out of their bunks, disoriented and bleary-eyed.

No one came to give us instructions.

No one explained where to go or what to do.

We just... figured it out.

The training area was outside, a massive courtyard divided into zones. Combat rings. Obstacle courses. Endurance tracks. Weapon racks lined the walls, stocked with wooden practice swords, weighted daggers, blunted spears.

Everything looked old. Used. Stained.

Hundreds of us spilled into the courtyard, uncertain and tense.

Hoshino grabbed my arm. "So... what now?"

"I guess we train," I said.

"For what?"

"Survival."

She looked around at the chaos, people grabbing weapons, shoving each other out of the way, arguing over equipment.

"Right," she said. "Survival."

It didn't take long for the tension to boil over.

A boy near the weapon racks tried to grab a practice sword at the same time as someone else. Words were exchanged. Then a shove.

Then a fist.

Within seconds, they were on the ground, punching wildly while people shouted and circled around them.

No one stopped it.

No guards appeared.

No instructors intervened.

The fight ended when one of them stopped moving.

The other one stood, breathing hard, and walked away.

Someone dragged the unconscious boy to the side.

And everyone else went back to training.

Hoshino stared. "They're just... allowing this?"

"Looks like it," I said.

"That's insane."

"That's the Trials."

She shook her head but didn't argue.

We found a quieter corner and started practicing.

I focused on weapons.

I'd never held a sword before. Never trained in combat. The closest I'd come to fighting was loading crates at the depot, and that didn't exactly prepare me for killing Morphs.

The practice sword felt wrong in my hand, too light, too balanced. I swung it a few times, clumsy and uncertain.

Hoshino watched. "You look like you're trying to swat a fly."

"Thanks."

"I'm just saying." She picked up a wooden dagger and turned it over in her hands. "Maybe try something smaller? Daggers are easier to control."

I switched weapons.

She was right. The dagger felt better, closer, more manageable.

I practiced basic strikes. Stabs. Slashes. Nothing fancy. Just enough to maybe, possibly stay alive.

Hoshino trained beside me, moving through drills with surprising ease. She was fast. Precise.

"You've done this before," I said.

She shrugged. "My dad made me take self-defense classes when I was younger. Thought it'd keep me safe." She laughed bitterly. "Guess he was right."

We trained until my arms burned and my hands blistered.

At some point Hoshino stopped doing basic drills and started pushing further, practicing combinations that were too fast, too aggressive, throwing herself into movements that left her completely exposed if anything went wrong. She kept going after her hands started shaking. Kept going after I could see her breathing was off, too quick, too shallow, the kind of breathing that meant she was running on adrenaline instead of actual energy.

I watched her for a while without saying anything.

I could have told her to slow down. Could have pointed out that exhausting herself a week before the Trial was exactly the wrong strategy, that she needed to conserve, not burn through everything she had trying to feel ready.

But I didn't.

Partly because I wasn't sure she'd listen. But mostly because I understood the impulse — the need to keep moving so you didn't have to sit still and think. And saying something would have meant admitting I recognized it.

So I just kept working on my own drills and let her tire herself out.

That was the thing about me. I noticed. I just didn't always act on it.

The bullying started on the first day and never stopped.

Upper-class kids targeted lower-class ones. Older contestants intimidated younger ones. The strong preyed on the weak.

I saw a girl get her food stolen at lunch. Saw a boy get shoved into a wall for looking at someone the wrong way. Saw people form packs, circling outsiders like predators.

Hoshino and I kept our heads down.

But it didn't matter.

On the second day, three boys cornered us near the obstacle course.

The leader, tall, broad-shouldered, with a crystal that glowed too bright to be dying, looked us over like we were prey.

"You two look lost," he said.

Hoshino stepped closer to me. I didn't move.

"We're fine," I said.

"Doesn't look like it." He smiled. "Lower class, right? I can tell. You've got that look."

"What look?"

"Desperate."

His friends laughed.

I stared at him.

"We're not interested," I said flatly.

"In what?"

"Whatever this is." I gestured at him and his friends. "We're here to survive. Not to play your games."

His smile faded. "You think you're better than us?"

"No. I think I don't have time for this."

He stepped closer. "Maybe you need a reminder of how things work here."

I didn't flinch.

"Touch me," I said quietly, "and you'll regret it."

He laughed. "Yeah? You gonna fight me?"

"No." I met his eyes. "But you'll waste energy on me, and then you'll die in the Trial because you were too busy being an idiot to prepare."

Silence.

His friends shifted uncomfortably.

He stared at me, jaw tight.

Then he stepped back.

"Whatever," he muttered. "Not worth it."

They walked away.

Hoshino exhaled. "That was terrifying."

"Yeah."

"But also kind of amazing."

I didn't respond. My hands were shaking.

I stood there for a moment, letting the adrenaline settle, trying to figure out what had just happened inside me.

The easy version was that I'd stood my ground to protect Hoshino. That felt clean. Heroic, even, in a small way.

But that wasn't entirely honest.

The truth was that the moment he'd stepped toward me, something had locked into place — not courage exactly, but refusal. The idea of backing down in front of him, of letting him see me flinch, had felt unbearable in a way that had nothing to do with Hoshino at all. It was about me. About not being the kind of person who stepped aside.

I wasn't sure that was better than being afraid.

I wasn't sure it wasn't.

"Come on," I said, and started walking.

Day Three

The fight happened in the combat ring.

I didn't see how it started, just heard the shouting.

By the time Hoshino and I pushed through the crowd, two people were already squaring off in the center of the ring.

One of them was tall and lean, with dark hair and cold, calculating eyes. He moved like he'd been trained, balanced, controlled, watching his opponent with the focus of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

I'd seen him around the barracks. Quiet. Kept to himself. Upper class, judging by the way he carried himself.

The other one was different.

He was stockier, with sharp features and an arrogance that radiated off him like heat. He held his practice sword like it was an extension of his arm, and when he moved, it was with the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were better than everyone else.

Something about him felt wrong. Out of place.

Like he didn't belong here with the rest of us.

"What happened?" Hoshino whispered.

"No idea," I said.

Someone nearby answered. "Delgado bumped into Fosse during drills. Fosse said something. Delgado took it personally."

I filed the names away. Delgado. Fosse.

"And now they're fighting?" Hoshino asked.

"Looks like it."

The crowd pressed closer, eager and bloodthirsty.

Delgado grinned. "You sure you want to do this?"

Fosse didn't respond. He just adjusted his stance.

"Your funeral," Delgado said.

He lunged.

The fight was brutal.

Delgado fought like he was trying to prove something, aggressive, relentless, overwhelming. He struck fast and hard, forcing Fosse back with sheer intensity.

But Fosse didn't break.

He moved like water, deflecting, redirecting, staying just out of reach. Every time Delgado committed to an attack, Fosse slipped away and countered.

It was like watching two completely different philosophies collide.

Delgado was all offense. Fosse was all control.

The crowd cheered.

Hoshino leaned closer. "This is insane."

"Yeah," I muttered.

"They're going to hurt each other."

"That's the point."

Delgado swung hard, and Fosse blocked, barely. The impact sent him stumbling back.

Delgado pressed forward, relentless.

Fosse's expression didn't change. He waited. Watched.

Then, when Delgado overextended, Fosse struck.

His practice sword cracked across Delgado's ribs.

Delgado staggered, surprised.

The crowd roared.

Fosse didn't gloat. He just reset his stance.

Delgado's grin disappeared.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Now it's a fight."

They went at each other for what felt like forever.

Delgado landed a brutal strike across Fosse's shoulder. Fosse retaliated with a slash that opened a cut along Delgado's cheek.

Both of them were bleeding. Both of them were exhausted.

Neither of them stopped.

"Idiots," I muttered.

Hoshino glanced at me. "What?"

"They're wasting energy. They're going to collapse before the Trial even starts."

"Maybe that's the point."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Maybe they'd rather fight each other than think about what's coming."

I didn't have an answer for that.

The fight ended when neither of them could stand anymore.

Delgado swung one last time, missed, and dropped to one knee.

Fosse stumbled backward, his practice sword slipping from his hands.

They stared at each other, gasping for breath.

The crowd went quiet.

Then someone stepped into the ring.

He was older, nineteen, maybe, with broad shoulders and a calm, steady presence that cut through the chaos like a blade.

"Enough," he said.

His voice wasn't loud. But everyone heard it.

Delgado looked up, jaw tight. "This isn't your business, Kael."

Kael, apparently that was his name, crossed his arms. "It is when you're both about to pass out before the Trial even starts."

"We're fine."

"You're bleeding."

Delgado wiped the blood from his cheek and didn't respond.

Kael looked at Fosse. "You done?"

Fosse nodded slowly.

"Good." Kael gestured to the edge of the ring. "Both of you. Out. Get patched up before you do something even stupider."

For a moment, I thought Delgado was going to argue.

Then he stood, picked up his practice sword, and walked away.

Fosse followed.

The crowd dispersed, muttering.

Hoshino let out a breath. "Well. That was something."

"Yeah."

"Think they'll kill each other in the Trial?"

"Probably."

She laughed, nervous and uncertain. "At least it'll be entertaining."

I didn't laugh.

I just watched Kael as he helped someone reset the combat ring.

Calm. Controlled. Like he'd done this before.

I filed his name away.

Kael.

Someone to remember.

Days Four Through Six

The week blurred together.

People formed groups. Alliances. Teams.

Some were built on friendship. Others on desperation.

Hoshino and I stayed together, but we didn't join anyone else.

Not yet.

There was one boy who kept appearing near us during training. Quiet. Nervous. He didn't talk much, but he watched us, like he was waiting for an invitation.

His name was Tomas.

I'd noticed him two days earlier, before I knew his name. He'd been sitting alone at the edge of the courtyard during a break, eating his rations, when one of the younger kids from a lower bunk — maybe fourteen, clearly terrified — had sat down nearby and started crying. Not loudly. Just the quiet, defeated kind that people did when they thought no one was watching.

Tomas had noticed.

He'd sat there for a moment, clearly uncertain, then slid his untouched protein bar across the ground toward the kid without saying anything. The kid had looked up, surprised. Tomas had just shrugged and looked away, like it was nothing.

The kid had taken the bar.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them acknowledged it again.

It was such a small thing. Stupid, almost, given where we were and what was coming. Giving away food you needed, to a stranger who'd probably be dead in a week anyway.

I'd filed it away and not thought about it again.

Until now.

"Think he wants to team up?" Hoshino asked one afternoon.

I glanced at him. He was practicing alone, fumbling with a weighted dagger.

"Maybe."

"Should we ask him?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know if he'll survive."

Hoshino frowned but didn't argue.

I didn't mention the protein bar.

Day Seven

The night before the Trial, no one slept.

I lay in my bunk, staring at the ceiling, counting the hours.

Hoshino shifted in the bunk beside mine.

"Lane?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me something."

I turned my head. She was lying on her side again, facing me.

"What?"

"We stick together," she said. "No matter what. We don't split up. We don't leave each other behind."

I thought about the Easy Trial. About the Extraction Beacon. About how only thirty-four percent of us would survive.

"I promise," I said.

She smiled, small and fragile. "Good. Because I'm not dying alone."

"Me neither."

"We're going to make it, Lane."

I wanted to believe her.

"Yeah," I said. "We are."

She closed her eyes.

I stayed awake.

Outside, beyond the barracks, the world continued without us.

And tomorrow, the Easy Trial would begin.