Tribute ✔

3- The Emergence

"I don't want any of your insolence this year."

"Of course."

Burning blue eyes bored into his back until the door shut, his body falling back against it as he let out a shaky breath, fear closing in on his lungs.

◢✥◣

Shitty Hair didn't say anything about the new bruises on Bakugou's shoulder. He didn't say anything about the intense gaze watching his ally every minute they spent in the training room. He didn't say anything when he saw Bakugou heading to new stations and practising new skills the Instructors hadn't taught them yet.

But he did say that Bakugou looked like he got his ass kicked, the spiky bastard!

Last night had been tough, five straight hours of training in weaponry, combat and key survival skills. He learnt the basic movements of five weapons, how to tell poisoned water from safe water, and un-fucking-fortunately got his ass kicked more times than he liked. After making their agreement the stranger, which was fucking weird because they weren't entirely fucking strangers anymore, got right into his training and Bakugou had to admit he knew what he was doing. How some pretty boy from the Capitol knew all of these survival skills and could shoot an arrow to hit bullseye with his eyes closed was beyond him, but he knew this training would give him an edge to win. 

He wasn't a dick though, so he taught Kirishima how to properly throw a spear the next morning. The guy was too fucking nice for his own good, and he'd need some help in the arena if Bakugou wasn't there to fight for him. They were allies, after all.

He ate more than his fill at lunch and dinner, heading straight to bed to get some sleep before heading down to train once more. Pretty Boy, that was his fucking name now, was there waiting for him, throwing punches at a dummy before sending it flying with a roundhouse kick. There was fire in his eyes, a simmering frustration, and Bakugou felt a sense of thrill rise within him at the idea of going full out in training. Plus fucking ultra...

"Fuck!" Bakugou shouted when the knife landed just outside the bullseye for the 10th time. 

"You're letting your anger cloud you. That will kill you. If you throw too late then your prey will be gone and you'll starve. That will also kill you." A clear voice spoke behind him.

"I fucking know that!"

"Try again."

Bakugou pushed down the urge to punch that ever-neutral expression in the face, but raised his arm to throw the dagger again. Red eyes zoned in on the small black circle many feet away and his grip tightened, only to freeze when a cool hand layed atop his.

"You're too tense." Now the voice was right by his air, his body ghosting his back. "Relax here." A warmer palm pressed atop his shoulders before going down to his hip, keeping it firm. "Breathe in, and..."

When he exhaled he threw the knife, watching it whistle through the air before stabbing the centre of the target. He grinned wide, huffing with pride. Fucking finally.

"Good. Do that again."

Pretty boy retreated to his station where he was sharpening the daggers Bakugou was throwing, not casting him another glance. This made Bakugou frustrated: he was the one so fucking intent on making their agreement, now he looked like he could be anywhere else and he wouldn't care. The bastard, he'd make sure those mismatched eyes would be on him soon enough. Turning back to the target he raised the blade, determined red eyes glinting in the clear metal.

◢✥◣

"What did I say about insolence?! First trying to sneak onto the train, and now this?!"

He wanted to fight back, but the blaring pain of his head smacking onto the floor took the words right out of him, consciousness soon following. 

"I should have disposed of her long before then..."

◢✥◣

Night 3 of their training. Three days until the games. Bakugou felt fucking exhausted but also that he stood a pretty good chance of winning. If he was strong before he was stronger now: muscles broadening from more food than he'd ever had in his life and training with purpose made him grow in strength and skill. Three more days until it was fight or die. 

He'd started receiving 'classes' on how to act during Interviews. The night before the games all of the Tributes were interviewed on a live broadcast across all of Panem, where they discussed their strengths and showed off personalities in hopes of attracting sponsors from the audiences. It was gross and false and glossed over the true fear the kids felt before heading into the bloodbath the next day, and now Bakugou found himself in front of a woman who was trying to show him how to be charming. Fuck that.

It seemed even his mentor was at a loss, it was funny to see her seaweed hair deflate alongside her hopes of changing him into a sweet charming gentlemen. But of course, that night, he entered their secret training room to find not a deadly piece of silver in sight. It was empty except for some cushions, one which Pretty Boy was sitting on. Did he bring everything to the training room by himself every night? Was there someone helping him or was he on his own? Damn, he was getting more difficult to understand with each passing night. 

"We're not fighting today."

"Scared I'll kick your ass?"

"Don't make jokes, I'm not one who likes to laugh."

Bakugou scoffed but sat down on the ridiculously fucking soft cushion. The room felt sort of small with it being empty apart from the two of them, no sounds of fists hitting skin or metal hitting target boards to fill the late night silence.

"I see you've not been successful in your Interview training. It's important to gain as many sponsors as possible-"

"It's fucking fake as shit. I'm not gonna pretend to be someone I'm not just to appeal to a bunch of fake bastards."

"Don't interrupt me." There was a slight glare, a warning, in those blue and grey eyes, but also a trace of amusement that vanished as soon as it appeared. "You need sponsors. But we're going to go about it a different way."

"How? Gonna make me a prince charming, hah?"

"No. We're going to enhance what you already have, then it's easy for you and attractive to sponsors."

Bakugou raised a brow, feeling something stir in his gut at the determined expression on Pretty Boy's face. But he was all in, if it increased his chances of winning. He hadn't been failed yet, he had to have faith.

"What's the plan?" he asked.

"Simple. We're going to make sure everyone wants to see you, be you, and be with you." Pretty Boy smirked at the end, Bakugou mimicking it effortlessly.

"Bring it."