As Above (So Below)

Chapter Three: Heresy

 The crowd was dead silent, save for the horrific wailing coming from an inconsolable Megumi. His face had gone pale, and he sobbed with a strength that rattled his entire tiny body. Shoko was dragging him and a silently crying Tsumiki away, her hands shaking as she avoided looking at him. Her expression was pained, mouth twisted in a miserable scowl. Satoru breathed deep and slow, fighting to keep his face blank. He could feel the slimy, heavy weight of the CTS hopeful's jealous stares on him. Disgust pooled low and vengeful in his stomach, making his body feel heavy and sluggish. How anyone could see what'd just happened and feel jealous over it completely escaped Satoru. The lust they felt to be the Capital's cattle sickened him. He didn't dare cry. Instead, he straightened to his full height and gazed down at the throng of people, keeping his expression a neutral mask. Toji's eyes were still on him.

"That concludes this reaping," Mei-Mei said, her braids flicking through the air with every exaggerated toss of her head. "Allow me to introduce you to the District One tributes of the Seventy-Fourth Culling Games; Satoru Gojo and Takeda Matsumoto!" She grabbed each of their hands, hoisting them into the air. Satoru let the media training from CTS take over, smiling brightly, forcing his signature devastating charm into it. Takeda made a peace sign with her delicate fingers, already gunning for Capital Darling. Not happening. Satoru threw some smolder into his eyes - his best angle was physical appearance and the Career bias, and he wasn't letting it be stolen from him by Takeda, of all people. He'd already resigned himself to playing this game, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to win, too.

"Now, the tributes shake hands," Mei-Mei said, letting go of them and stepping back. Satoru faced off Takeda, who was still smiling. There was a coldness in her eyes - a level of her mask that hadn't been perfected. She might not be strong, but it'd be naive to discount her as a threat altogether. Satoru stared her down. His smile was perfect. His mask was impervious. He shook her hand, grip firm but not overpowering. He didn't need to assert his physical strength - Takeda knew. Everyone who'd ever set foot in CTS knew, and they knew well. Satoru didn't gain notoriety just through his looks.

"Takeda," Satoru said quietly. Takeda's eyes narrowed slightly, and her lip twitched.

"Satoru." Her expression was bright and falsely open. She was a Venus Flytrap, just waiting for him to take the bait. He had no interest in her, nor did he have any interest in being digested in the belly of an unexpected beast. Mei-mei could've passed out from the excitement of seeing them play into enjoying each other's company. Satoru knew what came next. They nodded at each other in one last acknowledgement before heading inside the capitol building.

The inside was just as nonsensical and elaborate as the outside, with marble floors and elaborate statues sprinkled throughout. Peacekeepers were milling about, their arrogance plain in their stances and their armor freshly polished for the occasion. A faceless officer led him and Takeda down a long hallway. Satoru eyed the paintings hung every few feet on the wall. A couple embracing. A child on a pike. A group of exhausted, sickly people making a new set of chainmail. The disparity in happiness through each piece was a perfect representation of life in District One; false luxury held up by the civilians' blood, sweat, and tears. The hallway ended, opening up into a small room with two doors. Takeda took the left, Satoru took the right.

The inside was just as fake and pompous as the outside. Plush carpets, art hung on the walls, floor to ceiling windows that looked out at the rest of the paper town. Satoru took a seat in one of the plush, antique chairs, crossing his legs at the knee and zoning out. God, what had he done? Who did he think he was, volunteering like that? He hadn't even waited to see if someone else in that age range would - what if he'd left Megumi and Tsumiki alone for no reason? He sat there, thought about it for a moment more, and shook off his doubts like a wet dog.