“Yeah! Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe. Think of me as your ‘bodyguard.’” He pauses a beat. “I heard they make this huge ohagi platter that you’ve gotta see to believe.”

“Oh man, I love ohagi,” I blurt before I can stop myself. Who am I kidding, I was doomed to give in to any of this strange man’s requests as soon as my ass hit that stool. “I guess my betsu bara can shift around a little in the next hour. But I’m warning you, if you try anything, I will take a chunk out of your jugular and make it look like an accident.”

“Fair enough, my lady.” He bows and leads the way. He takes my bike with him.

twelve

A VERY CURIOUS SENSATION

虎穴に入らずんば虎子を得ず

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

Zaniel can’t sing. That’s not to say I’m chastising him for it, because he did warn me. I just find it funny that everyone at Zozo thinks he’s Mr. Perfect, but when it comes to carrying a tune, he can’t do it. He can, however, keep up with rap lyrics, so our rendition of the Fugees’ “Ready or Not” starts out rocky and ends with a clean finish. The crowd below the stage goes wild. Most people are eating or on their cellphones, but they are all cheering. One elderly salaryman in the pit below us is bowing Wayne’s World–style, and the ones around him make scooping motions with their arms and shout “Motto, motto!” But we’re only allowed to sing one song at a time, so we bow and jog backstage.

“Whew! I didn’t think I was going to survive that!” Zaniel gasps. “You were right, though, it wasn’t that fast, so … Cybelle?”

“Yeah …” I trail off, distracted. There’s another set of stairs back here, leading down into darkness. There’s a cold chill coming from it, which is weird because it wasn’t cold outside at all. “Hey. What do you think is down there?”

Zaniel shrugs. “I don’t know. Come on. We still have to pick our next song.”

“Right. Um, how do you feel about ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’?”

He chuckles as I list off an assortment of rap songs we both might know as we head back to our table. I’m glad for the subject change. Thoughts of secret basement dungeons and torture chambers wash from my mind with the tide of people we wade through in this giant restaurant Zaniel has brought me to. On the speakers and on the stage, someone is now singing the Sailor Moon theme song. “I know this! ‘Moonlight Dentetsu,’ right?”

Zaniel bursts out laughing. “‘Densetsu’!” he corrects me.