Chapter 6 - That’s The Ticket

As Yumiko slept, fragmented images flickered through her mind like shards of a broken mirror. The girl with white hair and wolf ears appeared again, curled beneath the hollow of a gnarled tree, clutching a worn-out teddy bear to her chest. The scene shifted in an instant—her small frame replaced by a massive wolf. Snow.

She was caged. Thick iron bars surrounded her, the space too small for her large form. The distant roar of a crowd thundered through the air, muffled but deafening, a chaotic storm of cheers and jeers. Then another image—Lukas, hunched over, his breath ragged, his face streaked with blood. A haze of smoke clung to him, swirling like living tendrils.

"Liar…" he muttered, his eyes not on Yumiko but someone beyond her. She turned, trying to see who stood behind her, but the vision dissolved into darkness.

A crack of thunder split the void, followed by a blinding flash of lightning.

Then, Mary’s voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere. "If Lukas enters that competition and wears that armor, it will kill him… Anyone who wears it has suffered such a fate."

Luch’s voice soon entered as well. "The guild uses it to torcher people who are on death row."

Another flash—this time, Lukas lay motionless on the ground. His body still. His eyes empty, laying in the middle of the colosseum as a crowd booed and protested.

Yumiko jolted awake, gasping for air. Her skin was clammy, her heartbeat wild. This wasn’t just a dream. It felt like a warning. A memory or something yet to come.

Blinking away the haze of sleep, she turned her gaze to the clock across the room—just shy of eight in the morning. She pushed the blankets off, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She needed to find Lukas and Mary. Before she could even reach the door, a loud bang echoed from outside her room, followed by the unmistakable sound of Lukas and Mary’s voices raised in heated argument.

Heart pounding, Yumiko scrambled to throw on her clothes and rushed into the hallway.

The morning had barely begun, yet the tension was already suffocating. Lukas stormed out of the hotel’s pristine entrance, his pace determined, his expression unreadable. Mary trailed after him, frustration seething in her voice.

“Lukas!” she yelled, shoving through the door behind him. “Stop and think about this for once in your life!”

“I’ve thought enough, Mary,” he shot back without stopping. His strides carried him down the street, past the clean cobblestones and well-kept storefronts.

Mary scoffed, quickening her pace to keep up. “So your brilliant plan is to be some bloodthirsty crowd’s entertainment, and then what?” She grabbed his shoulder, yanking him to a halt.

Lukas spun, his jaw clenched. “I am going to win back Snow. That’s what.” He tore his arm free from her grip, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

Yumiko ran up, her chest tight from both exertion and unease. The weight of her vision pressed down on her like an unseen force. “Wait! Lukas!” she called, reaching him before he could walk away again. “I had a dream… a nightmare.” She swallowed hard. “One of you dying.”

Lukas flinched but said nothing.

“I saw you wearing that armor. I saw you in the ring. I saw you killed in front of a crowd.” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to continue. “And before you tell me it was just a dream—before you doubt me—remember all the other times I warned you about something, and you didn’t believe me.”

Lukas met her gaze, his expression torn between determination and hesitation.

“My friend is out there,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “And while I’m alive, I will go for her.”

Yumiko stepped forward, desperation clawing at her throat. “B-but—”

“If either of you think I’m going to leave another one of my friends behind, you’re wrong!” Lukas’ voice cracked with raw fury, his breathing heavy. “I left six of my friends to slaughter! I watched countless people die in the north! I watched my father choke to death right in front of me! I will never let that happen again! I’d rather die than abandon someone to torture and death!”

Mary threw out her arms, exasperation flashing in her eyes. “But this isn’t worth throwing your life away for! I swear I remember you saying you were going to live on—to honor your friends’ sacrifices! What happened to that?!”

Lukas’ glare darkened, his fists trembling at his sides. “I promised them I wouldn’t let this happen to someone I care about ever again. And now it is happening. Right now.” His voice sharpened like a blade. “Either I go in there and tear that place apart to find Snow, or I enter the competition and win. Since you won’t let me take her by force, then I’ll take my chances with their stupid arena.” He pointed at the looming structure in the distance. “If I sit here and do nothing, she’s as good as dead—and I break my promise.”

Mary’s jaw clenched, frustration boiling over. “Fine! Go ahead and get yourself killed then!” she shouted, her voice thick with anger.

Lukas didn’t stop. He just turned and kept walking.

Yumiko reached out, desperation in her voice. “But Lukas—”

“Don’t try to stop me.” His tone was final, cold. “And don’t follow me. Not unless you’re willing to help save Snow.” Without another word, he strode down the street, disappearing into the slums.

Mary let out a harsh sigh, pressing her fingers to her temple. “If only we could talk to Sofia... But we can’t because of that damn Meino guy. Lovely.”

Yumiko swallowed, her hands curling into fists. “Mary... the dream I had—it felt real.” Her voice wavered. “I saw Lukas die in that competition. I felt it. Like I’ve seen it before… Like it’s already happened or going to happen.”

Mary let out a slow breath, her frustration giving way to grim concern. “I don’t know if what you saw was a vision, a nightmare, or a twisted mix of both… But one thing I do know? If he goes through with this, he’s going to get himself killed—or paralyzed at the very least. That armor is no joke. We weren't lying to him when we said that the guild gives it to death row prisoners.”

Silence stretched between them, the sounds of the city moving around them—merchants shouting, distant laughter, the occasional clatter of footsteps on uneven stone.

Eventually, Mary spoke again, her voice quieter but determined. “Listen. I’m going to dig around, see if I can find anything about that damn wolf. If we’re lucky, they’re keeping her somewhere we can sneak her out of.” She crossed her arms, thinking. “We’ve got that staff that can hide our noise and presence. If it comes to it, we can use it. But we have to be careful. The colosseum is tied to the guild, and if we screw up, we’ll have more than just thugs on our backs.”

Yumiko took a step forward, resolve building in her voice. “I can help.”

Mary shook her head. “Braint isn’t a place you want to snoop around in. It’s filthy—and dangerous. Besides, information gathering works better alone. Fewer people means fewer eyes noticing.” She met Yumiko’s gaze, firm but not unkind. “Just stay at the hotel for now. If I need you, I’ll come find you.”

Yumiko nodded, though disappointment weighed heavily in her chest. “Okay...”

Mary gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder, a wordless attempt at comfort, before turning and walking away. Left standing alone in the middle of the bustling street, Yumiko exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting across the chaotic sprawl of Braint. The city was a mess of grime and desperation, its streets filled with cutthroats, drifters, and merchants shouting over one another in an attempt to make a coin.

She clenched her fists.

Mary was underestimating her.

She wasn’t some fragile thing to be protected. She could fight. She would fight.

“I won’t just sit around...” she muttered under her breath, taking a determined step forward. “If Lukas is willing to risk his life, then so am I.”

Without another word, she turned and walked through the sunlit streets, her boots tapping against the uneven cobblestone. The noise of the city became distant as she focused on her thoughts, her mind racing over the situation.

By the time she reached the colosseum, her resolve was set. She ran up to the front counter, her breath steady.

“I want to sign up for the next event. The one happening this week.”

The receptionist, a woman with sharp eyes and a well-practiced smile, shook her head. “Impossible. All slots were filled three days ago. I can sign you up for the next one next week.”

“That’s not an option.” Yumiko’s voice was firm. “I need to be in this one.”

The receptionist gave an exaggerated shrug. “Sorry, my hands are tied. Nothing I can do.”

Yumiko stared at her for a moment, frustration boiling in her chest. But there was no point in arguing. With a quiet sigh, she turned and walked out, stepping into the colosseum’s massive shadow.

There has to be another way.

As she lingered, lost in thought, an old man suddenly bumped into her, his dry chuckle breaking through her frustration.

“Trying to get into the tournament, huh, girlie?”

Yumiko glanced up, taking in the man’s tattered cloak, long unkempt beard, and deep wrinkles. He smelled faintly of ale and dust, his grin revealing a few missing teeth.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you know a way I could join?”

The man’s grin widened, mischief glinting in his tired eyes. “Fighter slots, once full, are officially impossible to get into.” He paused, rubbing his fingers together in a silent request for coin. “However… you could buy a slot from someone. Or…” His voice dipped lower. “You could convince them to give it to you… That is if you know where to go…”

Yumiko didn’t hesitate. She pulled a silver coin from her pouch and pressed it into his palm.

His fingers curled around the coin, and his grin stretched wider. “A tavern on the south side of town—The LightHouse. That’s where you’ll find the kind of men who’d sell their entry. If you have enough coin.” He cackled, tucking the silver away. “But be warned, girlie—the southern stretch of Braint is worse than the rest of this stink hole.”

His voice dropped to something almost amused. “This whole city is ugly, but even the scum of Braint look down on that part of town. It’s dirty. It’s dangerous. It’s crawling with men who wouldn’t think twice about gutting you in an alley for looking at ‘em wrong.”

He gave her a lingering look before laughing again. “If you really want to risk your neck for that ticket, that’s where you’ll find it. But if you’re smart?” His smile turned knowing as he stepped away. “You’ll turn around and go back where you came from.”

And with that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Yumiko standing there, her decision weighing heavy in the pit of her stomach.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Yumiko nodded to herself, scanning the sky to get her bearings. “Sun’s in that direction… so south should be that way.”

She turned back to thank the old man—only to find him gone.

Her brows furrowed as she glanced around the open plaza in front of the colosseum. It was grand, spacious, and crowded with people moving in all directions. There weren’t many places he could have slipped away unnoticed. Strange. But she had no time to dwell on it. Pushing the thought aside, Yumiko adjusted her posture and set off toward the southern district.

It didn’t take long for the city’s filth to creep in. The streets grew narrower, the once-proud buildings giving way to crooked structures with peeling paint and rotting wood. A foul stench clung to the air—stale alcohol, sweat, and the sour reek of garbage left to fester in the heat. The people here were just as rough as their surroundings, their sharp eyes tracking her like wolves sizing up a lost lamb.

A man stepped into her path.

“Hand over the coin pouch,” he demanded, his voice low and raspy.

Yumiko barely spared him a glance. The moment he reached for her, she moved.

Grabbing his arm, she twisted her body and threw him clean over her shoulder. He hit the cobblestone with a sickening thud, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. A wheezing groan escaped him as he lay sprawled on the ground, stunned.

The other thugs who had been eyeing her from the shadows hesitated. Some exchanged glances, then quietly melted back into the alleyways, deciding she wasn’t worth the trouble.

Yumiko stepped closer, looking down at the man. “You really think I have a lot of money?” she asked coldly.

The man coughed, struggling to catch his breath. “More than me…” He gasped, his voice ragged. “Your clothes… scream wealthy… At the very least, easy cash… ’cause of your size…”

Yumiko glanced at her reflection in a filthy, cracked window. Her traveling cloak and well-kept tunic stood out far too much in this part of town. Damn it. She should have considered this earlier.

Her gaze snapped back to the man. “Where’s the LightHouse Tavern?” she demanded.

He swallowed hard. “Down the street… to the right… Can’t miss it…”

She watched him sit upright, still holding his ribs. He hesitated before looking up at her. “Can I go?”

Yumiko gave him a sharp nod. He wasted no time scrambling to his feet and disappearing down a side alley, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.

She exhaled through her nose.

Without wasting another second, she slipped into the nearest alleyway, pressing herself into the shadows. Behind a stack of crates, she reached into the small pouch at her waist, pulling out a dark ninja mask and a lightweight robe. She stripped out of her more noticeable outer layers, quickly donning the disguise before adjusting the mask over the lower half of her face.

Better.

Blending into the filth of southern Braint was the key to moving unnoticed.

Yumiko stepped back out into the streets, her posture shifting—head lower, steps softer, movements less rigid. She followed the man’s instructions, keeping her eyes peeled.

Before long, she found it.

The LightHouse Tavern stood at the end of the road, and it was in bad shape. Chunks of plaster and brick had crumbled from its walls, exposing wooden beams beneath. Several windows were broken, with crude wooden planks nailed haphazardly over them. The wooden sign above the entrance hung by a single rusted chain, creaking in the wind.

It looked more like a condemned building than a functioning tavern.

Yumiko took a steadying breath, centering herself before stepping inside.

The air was thick with the scent of tobacco, sweat, and stale alcohol. Dim lanterns flickered against the walls, casting shadows over the patrons inside. The murmur of conversation filled the space, occasionally punctuated by raucous laughter or the slap of cards against wooden tables. Three separate groups were deep in gambling, piles of coins clinking as bets were placed.

Scattered throughout the room, a few women in revealing dresses leaned over drunken men, their voices sickly sweet with honeyed laughter. Near the bar, a man lay slumped over his drink, his snores lost beneath the chatter.

Yumiko stepped forward, instinctively scanning the room. Even with her disguise, she felt eyes lingering on her.

Before she could take another step, a drunken man stumbled into her path.

“You got a problem, pal?” His words slurred together, but there was aggression in his stance as he wobbled toward her.

Yumiko tensed, senses on high alert. He’s going to attack.

But before she could react, the man suddenly turned on his heel and swung a heavy fist—right into the face of another drunk standing a few feet away.

The second man staggered back, stunned for a moment, before roaring in anger and throwing a punch of his own.

The tavern erupted.

Chairs scraped against the floor as men jumped up, some cheering, others diving in to join the brawl. A bottle shattered somewhere in the chaos. More bets and cheering took place.

“My money’s on the fat one!” someone hollered from the crowd, laughter rippling through the tavern.

Yumiko kept her distance, weaving through the edges of the room to avoid getting caught in the crowd. She scanned the patrons, searching for anyone who stood out—someone strong, skilled, dangerous. She needed to find someone that looked like they could handle themselves in the colosseum event, but so far, the only fighters she saw were a pack of drunken lowlifes too busy swinging at each other to be a real threat.

Then, amid the chaos, a voice caught her attention.

“Look at those fools beating the hell out of each other! Meanwhile, the Schwag gang’s gonna be rich after this week’s colosseum challenge!”

Yumiko’s eyes flicked toward the speaker. Three men sat at a nearby table, laughing and slamming their mugs together before taking deep gulps of ale. Their clothing was slightly better than the average thug’s—still rough, but cleaner, newer. They carried themselves with confidence, the kind that came from knowing they had an advantage over everyone else in the room.

She stepped closer, leaning casually against a wooden post nearby, her body turned slightly away so she could listen without drawing attention.

“Justin Schwag, champion of the colosseum… yeah, I like the sound of that,” one of them said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

Yumiko marked him immediately—the leader.

“You’ll knock the lights out of all of them, Justin!” one of his lackeys cheered, pounding a fist on the table.

“The real question is,” the third man added, lowering his voice, “are you aiming for the gold, or that rare beast they say got captured?”

The leader—Justin—shrugged, swirling the drink in his mug. “Who the hell knows if the rumors are even true? If they did catch something rare, we’ll find out at the competition.” He smirked. “Not that it matters. Either way, I’m walking out of there with something valuable.”

Just as Yumiko started piecing things together, Justin’s gaze snapped toward her. His expression shifted in an instant—relaxed amusement replaced by sharp suspicion.

“The hell you lookin’ at?”

Before she could react, he shot to his feet, reaching for her.

Yumiko’s instincts screamed. She ducked just as his fist crashed into the wooden beam behind her, splitting the wood with the force of the impact. Justin let out a sharp grunt, yanking his hand back and shaking it out.

“You little bitch!” he snarled. “You spying on us?”

Yumiko straightened, brushing off her robe. Instead of backing down, she bowed politely. “Apologies,” she said smoothly, “but I’ve actually been looking for you.”

Justin hesitated, his brow furrowing.

“You with Jaeger’s crew?” he demanded, his voice tense. His hand dipped toward his belt, fingers curling around the hilt of a knife. His goons followed suit, each reaching for their own weapons.

Yumiko quickly raised her hands, palms open. “N-no, nothing like that,” she assured, pulling her ninja mask down to reveal her face. “I’m simply a stranger in need of something. Something you have that I wish to purchase.” Her voice remained polite, measured—unthreatening.

Justin’s scowl deepened—then, suddenly, his eyes widened in recognition.

“Wait a damn minute…” He jabbed a finger toward her. “You look familiar!”

Yumiko arched a brow. “I do?”

The tension in the air thickened. The two lackeys exchanged glances, gripping their weapons a little tighter.

The bald man flinched, his eyes narrowing as he pieced it together. “I know you! You were in Headwich a month or two ago!”

Yumiko tilted her head, keeping her tone polite. “I think you have me confused with someone else, dear sir.”

“The hell I do!” he barked. “You’re the bitch that spilled half my beer on me—and then had your blonde boyfriend fight me!”

Yumiko blinked, momentarily thrown off. The man was referring to Lukas. “Boyfriend? He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, her voice going a pitch higher than intended.

Justin sneered. “Either way, you two knocked me out! I was humiliated! Half my crew left me after that mess, and I had no choice but to pack up and head for the city of opportunity—Braint! The great Justin Schwag, brought low by a couple of low-level nobodies.”

Yumiko frowned, thinking back. The name Justin Schwag still didn’t ring a bell. “Sorry… I don’t remember,” she admitted, offering an apologetic nod.

Justin’s expression twisted, like she’d just stabbed his pride straight through the heart. “You kicked my grenade in the air like it was a toy back in headwich!”

Yumiko clapped her hands together, realization dawning. “Ohhh, you were that bald guy!”

His eye twitched. “Why are you focusing on me being bald?!” he roared, veins bulging in his forehead. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “No matter,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “If you’re here, you must want something from the great Justin.”

Yumiko nodded, shifting back to a formal tone. “I need your entry ticket to the colosseum. All the fighter positions have been filled, and it’s important that I get in.”

Justin’s scowl twisted into a knowing grin. “You want our spot in the competition?”

Yumiko nodded again. “Please. I can pay you double the entry fee, if necessary.” She gave a polite bow, showing respect despite the rough company.

One of Justin’s goons let out a low chuckle, stepping around her like a predator sizing up prey. “A little thing like you wouldn’t make it past the first round…” His smirk widened. “But maybe we can work something out—for the right kind of payment.” His meaning was obvious.

Justin shot his lackey a glare before elbowing him in the ribs. “I ain’t into her like that,” he muttered, annoyed. Then he turned back to Yumiko, rubbing his chin. “But I do like coin a hell of a lot better.”

Disgust curled in Yumiko’s stomach. She met the lackey’s eyes without flinching. “Where I come from, companionship is delicate and sacred. I won’t offer that.” Her voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “What I can offer is three times the entry fee for one of your tickets. Do we have a deal?” She asked, looking at Justin.

Yumiko extended her hand to seal the deal, but Justin shook his head with a smirk. “Uh-uh. You show us some coin first. Then we’ll make a deal and give you the entry ticket.”

She reached for her coin pouch, but before her fingers could close around it, one of the goons lunged, attempting to snatch it from her belt.

Yumiko reacted instantly. She pulled back, letting the thug’s momentum carry him forward, and as he stumbled past, she delivered a swift strike to the back of his head. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he even hit the wood.

“You bitch!” the second goon snarled, already swinging a wild punch at her.

Yumiko caught his fist mid-air and twisted his wrist sharply. He let out a howl of pain, his knees buckling. Without hesitation, she yanked him forward and drove her foot into his gut, sending him crashing into a nearby table with a loud THUD.

The bar, once filled with drunken laughter and raucous chatter, fell into an eerie silence. All eyes locked onto Yumiko in shock and awe.

Justin shifted uncomfortably as sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes darted around the room. “Shit… Now they’re watching…” He straightened up and jabbed a finger at her. “So, you want to pick a fight with the great Justin Schwag, do you, you bitch?”

Yumiko blinked, incredulous. “I just want the ticket,” she said flatly. “Do you not want my money?”

Justin wasn’t listening. He puffed out his chest and continued his tirade. “You came all this way from Headwich just to get your hands on me—but I won’t allow it!”

The tension in the room snapped as the crowd erupted with excitement. Coins clinked against wooden tables as gamblers scrambled to place their bets.

“My money’s on the bounty hunter from the east!”

“You idiot, that’s a ninja, not a bounty hunter!”

“What the hell is a ninja?”

“My money’s on the baldy!”

“Mine too!”

“Quit focusing on my baldness!” Justin bellowed, his face turning red. He cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders as he locked eyes with Yumiko. “Prepare yourself, little girl, because I’m gonna break that neck of yours!”

With a roar, he charged.

Yumiko didn’t move. She simply watched, her expression unreadable, her stance poised.

The moment he came into range, she struck. With blinding speed, she snapped her leg upward, her foot connecting cleanly with his jaw.

A sharp crack echoed through the bar.

Justin’s eyes rolled back before his body even registered the pain. A second later, he collapsed onto the floor, out cold.

Dead silence.

Then, from the back of the bar—

“That was it?!” someone shouted. “What a damn rip-off!”

Groans and curses filled the air as gamblers angrily retrieved their lost bets, shaking their heads in disappointment.

Yumiko exhaled through her nose and stepped over Justin’s unconscious form. She crouched down, slipping her hand into his jacket pocket and pulling out the colosseum entry ticket. Then, with the same measured precision, she reached into her own pouch, counted out three times the entry fee, and tucked it into his pocket in exchange.

As she straightened, she glanced down at him. He looked so pitiful lying there.

With a sigh, she knelt once more and placed a single silver coin beside him. “For the trouble,” she murmured before rising to her feet.

Without another word, she turned and walked through the crowd, the gathered spectators parting for her like the tide. As she stepped into the cool night air, she slipped her mask back over her face and melted into the shadows of Braint’s slums.