Tribute ✔

1- The Reaping

With a wave of a perfectly manicured hand, the Capitol TV anthem was switched off, leaving the room to wallow in a tense silence. Children's cries and parents' wails echoing even as he drifted off to sleep...

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"If you can hide out until day 5 then you have a statistically higher chance of winning. It's 70% likely there will be some sort of water source, so that should be your first priority, and 54% of rucksacks closest to the pedestals have had a small knife and cantine in the past six years. And-"

"Shut up Deku! It'll be fine!"

"But Kaachan, this is serious! It's not play pretend anymore!"

Bakugou looked at the teary, wide green eyes looking up at him, imploring him to listen for once in his life. For what could possibly be the last time in his fucking life. He scowled, turning to look out the window of the town hall, looking at the many families embracing the fact they get to have their children for another year. His mother had already yelled at him, telling him to not waste his hard work building up his body and strength, and to listen to Deku's advice. He'll pretend he didn't see her walking away crying, probably to visit his dad's grave.

He clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white, yet was unable to hide the shaking that had occurred from the moment his name was called.

"Kaachan," Deku whispered brokenly, "please be careful."

"You damn nerd. I'm not planning on going anywhere. I'm number one, remember?!"

Deku gave a weak chuckle before smothering Bakugou in a hug he couldn't escape even if he wanted to. Which, for the first time in a long fucking while, he didn't want to. He knew his and Deku's relationship had been rocky these recent years, but he was grateful for the one constant in his life that didn't yell and complain even if it came from a place of love.

"Plus ultra and all that shit, right?" Bakugou huffed, recalling the old superhero cartoon book they had managed to find in the Seam, some remnant of time before the dark days.

A knock on the door brought reality crashing down on them once more. If Bakugou was a shade paler then Izuku didn't say anything, just gave Bakugou another hug before he was led out of the town hall and towards the train station, starting his journey to the end of the line. He just didn't know how close that end would be...

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"And finally, the male Tribute from District 12... Bakugou Katsuki. Won't you come on u-"

Sharp, cat-like eyes blinked slowly, thoughts deep and dangerous as he finished watching the Reaping for the 3rd time. So many possibilities, he would have to do some planning.

"Bring me my writing tools." he spoke, eyes not looking over to the tongue-less Avox standing inanimately in the corner of the room. "And I want to speak to Yamada."

The Avox bowed before exiting the room, leaving him to exist in the silence once more...

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Bakugou wanted to rip his stylists' head off. What was he thinking setting him on goddamn fucking fire?! Well, it wasn't real fire, but it was still fucking scary. Did the horrid gaudy-haired man not realise how many people in his district died in the mines from small fucking flames?! Stupid Capitol bastard!

He couldn't care less that the guards were sending him cautious looks, ready to step in if he exploded. That only happened once, when his mentor had surprised him from the back and he had accidentally punched her. He wasn't punished, thankfully, but it was fucking annoying having to be escorted by two guards to his fancy ass room in the Training Centre.

"Great job Bakugou!" his stylist, Yama-something said with a grin as wide as his hair was tall. Too fucking wide, that's what. He was talking to the female Tribute from his district but he didn't care to learn her name. Not when she would be dead soon.

The walk back to his room was too long. The cheering crowds making him sick to his stomach. Rich bastards already betting on which kid would die first. Some of them were only fucking twelve! His scowl remained until he slammed the door in his mentor's face, not wanting to look at vomit green hair any longer. He washed in the fancy shower and put on a loose shirt and pants, ready to start his nightly workout before bed. There was nothing wrong with getting ahead.

He cast a glance at the clock, noting the late time, and went to finish his last rep of push-ups but stopped when a flash of movement caught his eye. A shadow, slipping around the corner of the building. District 12 was known as the shitty district, so he scoffed at the fact that they were given the 'penthouse' rooms. The penthouse still had a dozen floors above it where he knew the damn guards and other rich bastards lived.

The shadow, however, was new. Nobody was rarely on their floor apart from his mentor and stylist, the guards having their own private hallways. He grunted and continued his push-ups, but curiosity had its claws on him so he slipped on some boots and a jacket and left his room. He followed the shadow down the stairs to the basement where the training room was set, slipping inside just before the doors shut.

He swore under his breath, losing sight of the hooded figure but instead looking at the backs of 2 guards. He hid behind a pillar and watched the guards switch over, glancing around the large space for the shadow. His eyes narrowed as he saw movement in the rafters above, moving between the darkness with practise. The clock revealed it was five to the hour, and the guards left their shift; Bakugou silently stepping around the pillar to avoid being seen.

The second the doors shut the figure dropped down, landing perfectly silent. They were in all black, but he caught a glimpse of pink under the hood when the stranger removed their bag. They moved around the centre with accuracy, placing things in alcoves, under bars, and atop beams, all out of sight from the observation box.

Fuck, who was this person?

He stepped out to confront them when a blaring alarm went off. He swore under his breath before leaving the centre and racing back up to his room, not wanting to be seen acting suspicious by the guards. He needed to be in the best shape before the games if he wanted to survive.

His night was spent with guards searching his room - probably for the fucking shadow he followed earlier - and a restless sleep, too many questions in his mind...

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"I got the supplies inside. Now we have to see who is smart enough to use them."

"Indeed, we're running low on time after all."

"Hmm..."