As Above (So Below)

Chapter Nine: Wrath

Toji pulled Satoru from the chariot the moment the horses had led them back, dragging him into the backstage area with a firm hand. His expression was grim and angry, but the anger didn't seem directed at Satoru. It was almost righteous - protective in nature - which would've been a familiar expression if it weren't on Toji's face. He knew the man was softening towards him, but this was a whole new level. It wasn't paternal - Toji didn't have a paternal bone in his body - but it was defensive. As if Satoru's safety was important to him. Good, because he was apparently in extreme danger.

Satoru's stomach dropped and sweat gathered on his palms, leaving them slick. If Toji had noticed the interaction between Kenjaku and him, at least enough to be rightfully angry and concerned about it, that meant everyone had. Was that a good or bad thing? Was the public power play dangerous to Satoru? Would it put his kids in danger?

Satoru didn't want to be some symbol used against Kenjaku. He didn't want there to be speculation on whether or not he was a traitor, like everyone had assumed his father was. Speculations like that were what caused the 'mysterious' disappearances cropping up all over Panem. He had Megumi and Tsumiki to think of - he couldn't step out of line. Rebelling was a luxury for people who had nothing to lose, and Satoru wasn't one of those people. He'd made his peace with all of this as best he could - he wouldn't let anyone drag him into the unspoken cold war, not even Kenjaku himself. Let him stare. Satoru was just trying to make it home.

"Are you okay?" Toji asked, his eyes wild and his face twisted into a snarl. A weaker man would've blanched at the sight, but Satoru knew its origin - this was Toji looking out for him, the only way he knew how. It was odd to be defended so obviously by the man he'd held so much hatred for since Ayame's death, but beggars couldn't be choosers. The longer he spent here, the more he understood why Toji had become what he'd become. Satoru couldn't even fathom leaving his children behind, abandoning them for alcohol or anything else, but he also hadn't survived the Games. It had been easy to judge Toji when Satoru was back in District One. Here, in the heart of Panem, the lines of good and evil blurred.

Satoru swallowed back a curse, shaking off the residuals of adrenaline. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright," he said, trying to sound believable. Toji looked at him for a moment, trying to decide whether he was gonna let it slide. Satoru shook his head. "Not here. I can't- Not here." Toji nodded immediately in understanding, visibly internally kicking himself for bringing up a weakness in public.
"Yeah, kid, you're right. Let's get you out of the bird costume, then we can talk," he replied, his voice low and gruff, the slur completely gone. Satoru nodded, fidgeting with one of his wings.

Takeda climbed out of the chariot beside him, and Shears immediately escorted her off and to the elevator. Satoru only caught a glimpse of her expression as she practically ran away. Her face was devoid of the usual smile and her skin had gone completely pale. There was a haunted look in her eyes - shell-shock was the best way Satoru could describe it. Everything had finally caught up to her, and all that terror and dread had culminated into that faraway stare. Her eyes met his for a fraction of a second. Her expression was a void - empty and all-consuming. It left a bad taste in Satoru's mouth.

He'd seen it before, back when he was rewatching the previous year's Culling Games on the train ride over. There was always a turning point - the dismount from the chariots, the ride itself, the initial step off the train, the reaction to their scores, or the first breath within the arena. There was always a turning point that separated the ones who could handle the violence to come from the ones who couldn't. From there, there were two options - they could roll over and die in obscurity, or hide and pray they could stay hidden all the way through it. She had no chance of hiding - that's what being in District One did to people. They couldn't fly under the radar. Violence had always been a Career's only way out.