Tribute ✔

11- The Disaster

He woke to the sound of choking.

Blinking open eyes he didn't remember falling shut, he pushed his arms up from the ground and looked over only to find Shitty Hair seizing on the floor, eyes glassy and lips foaming. Next to his hand lay a forgotten apple, the insides releasing a smell Bakugou recognised as a poison Shoto showed him. He raced over but knew there was nothing he could do; he grabbed and squeezed Kirishima's hand tight, swearing he saw the attempts of a smile on his lips before his eyes rolled back and the canon boomed in the air.

If he tried he could pretend he was still dreaming. He would wake up with a sore neck and hear Shitty Hair talking on and on about who knew what, talking about his home and family without a trace of sadness or despair. His unwavering hope was fucking stupid, but Bakugou found himself an admirer. Kirishima didn't deserve to be in the games.

He couldn't stay there, so he packed everything he could of Shitty Hair's backpack into his own, secured his weapons and left the building, choosing a random direction and walking until his feet hurt. There was some water in Shitty Hair's cantine, but he would run out in around 2 days. So unless the games ended or his sponsors decided to be fucking useful then he would soon get dehydrated. 

He walked the whole day, not seeing any Tributes nor hearing the canon. The ground shook once but it felt far away; the knives of glass hanging from the windows didn't fall down and impale him. Still, he kept his wits until sunset and found an empty house to board up and sleep in for the night.

It was fucking quiet, and he couldn't fucking relax. His hand in a tight grip on his axe, eyes constantly switching between the door and the blocked windows. Only one had a small gap in for him to see out of, but still kept him hidden from outsiders. Of course the place was once again as fucking empty as his damn stomach, so he gave up pretty quickly and slumped onto a lumpy pillow, back resting in the corner of the room. 

He was drained. His head hurt from stress and sun exposure, he could feel his body slimming down as his muscles began to weaken. There were only so many of them left, and he knew soon the Gamesmakers would create something that would force them all together. He didn't know if he would have the energy to fight when they did. He would give it his fucking all just as he promised, but the doubt creeping into the back of his mind told him it wouldn't be enough. He needed help. 

Shoto had been fucking silent, no more help from sponsors. Was he okay? Did someone find out he had helped Bakugou before going into the games? 

There was no point in thinking about it, it would only make his shitty headache worse. So, with a small sip of water he settled in for the night, watching the stars glimmer until the blurred as sleep consumed him.

◢✥◣

He jumped awake, eyes wide and shoulders taught as he heard the sound of banging at the window. It wasn't stopping, and he knew it couldn't be another Tribute because he was four floors up, but he didn't want to risk it being something else that could kill him. But, the noise was loud and could attract attention if he didn't deal with it. Fuck.

He stood up and removed the panels from the window, stepping out of the way when glass shards fell onto the floor from whatever had just knocked into them. It was black and shaped like a cube, a small parachute falling over the top, the Capitol seal painting the sides. 

"Shit." he whispered, grabbing his knife and kneeling down, tugging away the cloth and practically ripping off the lid.

The most delicious smell greeted him, and he groaned at the clenching tightness of his stomach. Taking out a metal container, he twisted it open and a wonderful sight greeted him. Fresh stew, with cooked meat and chopped vegetables, the broth thick and greasy. It looked like something his mother would make if the old hag had money to spare on his birthday. His stomach rumbled and he lifted the container to his lips, saying thankyou to whoever had given this to him before taking a large sip. It was hot and burnt his tongue, but he was eating real food for the first time in days, he couldn't find himself to care. 

He went to stab a piece of meat with his knife when a violent jolt made him lurch to the side, elbow landing on the floor harshly as he managed to only spill a few drops of the stew. Another shake, ending in a deeper rumble, made him stumble again, so he made no time in closing the container and grabbing the box, shoving it into his nearly full backpack and racing to the window. 

His eyes widened, watching as cracks began to spread along the dusty ground, groaning as they spread wider, creating small chasms in the ground. Wasting no time, he ran out of his hideout and down the flights of stairs, gripping onto the railing tight when another shake almost sent him head-first down them. Bursting out of the apartment block he was greeted with more cracks, wider chasms enough to start dragging the buildings into the ground. 

He turned and sprinted in the direction where there were fewer cracks, jumping over sudden craters and dodging fallen debris that was hailing down from above. He didn't spare a second to look behind, only ran as fast as he could as far away as he could. He didn't know when the shaking would stop, but he didn't want to fall behind and find out. 

On his left he saw two figures appearing and disappearing in the wasteland, also dodging falling debris and speeding away from falling skyscrapers. It didn't seem like they had noticed him, so he began to run at a diagonal, gritting his teeth when a large thud and broken screams met his ears. His legs were burning, knees ready to buckle right under him, but he reminded himself of the good fucking food he would get to eat later if he survived. 

He didn't know how long he ran until the cracks disappeared and the shaking stopped, but he found himself only a short distance from the cornucopia. Looking behind him, there was nothing but a desolate, ruined wasteland left behind. He looked at it in a daze until two canons made him flinch, and he wasted no time in finding a new place to rest.

There were footprints in the dust, and even though they didn't look new, he hoped that he was alone.

◢✥◣

"There are only 5 left, I'm sure you'll receive a grand return on your bet, Sir."

"Of course, I had a gut feeling about this one."

"I say, how did you hurt your arm so?"

"Ah, I fell down some stairs. I was too caught up in my reading."

"My my, your son always has been a clumsy one... President Todoroki."