Tribute ✔

9- The Turmoil

He slept peacefully for the first time that night. After drinking as much as he could and splurging on a few more crackers than his usual allowance, he had a short rest before heading to the outskirts of the forest and breaking off a few branches, using his knife to sharpen them into two small spears. If he had some coil or rope he could twine them together and make something resembling a pick-axe, but he wasn't that fucking lucky. He was careful when gathering wood, knowing how to look for signs of the force-field thanks to Shoto's training. 

Being right at the edge of the arena meant he didn't have to look over his shoulder for once. Well, for Tributes that is. There's no knowing what shit the Gamesmakers would come up with next. There hadn't been another canon, so something could happen at any moment...

He decided to stick to the edge of the arena for the time being, following the forest and heading south. He had no destination in mind, but he didn't want to get even remotely comfortable in one spot and risk putting his guard down. That would get him killed, and that wasn't gonna fucking happen. 

There was a constant water supply until another two days of walking, during which two canons had gone off, sounds of screaming too close for his damn liking. He hydrated and kept his cantine full at all times in case he had to make a run for it, whether from Tributes or something else. When the stream ended in a small pool he settled in a nearby cabin for the rest of the day, wondering what to do about food now his crackers were running out. 

He had stupidly hoped that by staying near the forest he'd find some plant or even wild game like a rabbit that he could eat, but his stomach was still empty. It was beginning to fucking hurt, he'd never eaten so little even back home. He needed food, but had no idea of how to get it that didn't include interacting with other Tributes. Shit.

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"I've cleared patrol routes for two slots. Three hour windows, but we need to move fast." A voice spoke, cracking through the old phone. 

"Start time?" A quieter voice asked, barely a whisper, eyes focused on the screen ahead of him, a figure moving with the blue stream.

"Precisely 6-"

The phone was crushed, ripped out of a pale hand harshly enough to draw blood, and a body was soon thrown to the floor, a looming figure glaring down from above.

"What did I say about insolence, Shoto?! You're never getting on that damn train!"

Blaring pain came next...

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He thought Shoto was working on getting him sponsors, his mentor tried her best but she didn't seem the persistent type. She'd given up real fucking fast with his Interview training. So why, despite his high fucking 10 score, was he left with nothing.

There were only 11 Tributes left, less than half, and he knew he needed to be prepared for when many of them started to go hunting, desperation of surviving leading them to murder. It had been a week since the games started and even he could admit it was pretty damn quiet, the gore and violence as barren as the wasteland they were trapped in. Bakugou knew he should be relieved but the lack of action left his shoulders always stiff with apprehension. 

He continued his walk down south, circling the edge of the arena until there was nothing but desert, the meagre forest shrivelled up and dead. Shrubs with leaves that were possibly poisonous were scattered around him, so he retreated to the safety of the desolate city, finding some familiarity in scouting between buildings and searching for food in the empty homes. He had some luck, finding a pack of half-eaten jerky that had probably been left behind from a dead tribute, and even if it was kinda stale it was fucking food and he was fucking hungry. He was glad he ate so much before the games, he still had a lot of body mass left to lose. It counted for two meals, at least.

It was day 8 when he first saw blood. 

He was scouting an empty apartment, checking the water taps and searching cupboards only to come up empty handed. He wasn't only searching for food and water but something to get rid of the dirt and grime clinging to his skin that had accumulated since he'd left the water trail behind. He was thankful that Shoto moved swiftly and silently, for he sensed the Tributes' presences before seeing them, ducking and rolling to the side to avoid an axe impaling the drawer he had just been crouched in front of. A fucking axe. 

Kicking out with his right leg he knocked the Tribute over, kicking the axe out of sight to retrieve later. He didn't really recognise the Tribute, some guy from District 4 maybe, but he seemed to have experience in fighting for he was soon aiming his own small knife and punches at his vital points, testing his reflexes to the max. They tumbled into what was once a living space, and he sent a vase at the guy's head to disorient him before punching him twice in the gut. 

He watched, eyes wide and shaking as the Tribute stumbled around, blinded by the blood dripping into his eyes, until he tripped over a crack in the floorboards and went flying out the window, body tipping and flying down to the ground only to land with a sickening thud. Bakugou remained frozen, hands in fists in front of him, his knife glinting against the blood-tipped glass shards of the window. Then the canon sounded, and he let himself breathe.

He took a step forward to retrieve his backpack and the axe, wanting to get the hell out of there as the sounds may have reached other Tributes in the area. He needed to get out of there fast. He grabbed everything and made a note to grab the other Tribute's waist pouch on the way out, another note to not look at whatever mangled state his body was in, but his body reacted the minute he left the apartment and sent his knife flying towards the figure at the end of the hallway. A screech and the figure ducked, looking up with brown eyes at the knife embedded in the wall they were just standing in front of.

"Shitty Hair?!" Bakugou yelled, too loud in the tense air.

"Bakugou!" Kirishima breathed out in relief, taking a steady breath before standing up and taking the knife out of the wall. He held it out to him with an open palm. "Allies?"

Bakugou needed to get out of there, and having another pair of eyes sounded good. 

"Allies."