As Above (So Below)

Chapter Thirteen: Lust

Satoru stepped out of the elevator and into the Prep Teams' floor, separating from Takeda and Shears the moment the doors opened. Shears looked tired, heavy-faced with deep bags peeking out of the flesh uncovered by bandages. Satoru couldn't blame her - Takeda couldn't have been an easy tribute to mentor. She was likely more excited about it when Takeda had first volunteered - most mentors in the Career Districts took pleasure in the process. What a nasty surprise it must've been when her potential Darling, her ticket back into the Capital's favor, turned out to be a weak-minded, terrified child. Satoru grimaced internally at the waste of it all.

The team was already waiting for him, leading him away from Toji and into a side room. They went through the motions - showering him off, waxing him bare, prepping his skin and doing his hair. Satoru sat through it all silently, his mind caught up with Toji's proposed strategy for the interview.

He was still kicking himself mentally - he should've never stepped in to break up that argument. What the hell had he been thinking? This wasn't only about the target on Suguru's back - this was about the target he'd put on his own. No matter what he did, the other boy seemed inescapable. He dreamt of him, thought of him, couldn't keep his eyes off him - if Satoru didn't know any better, he'd assume the raven-haired tribute was trying to purposely sabotage him. No, Suguru wasn't cold-blooded enough for that. Physically, maybe, but Suguru wasn't cut out for psychological warfare. That boded poorly for him, then, because so much of the Culling Games was propped up on it.

Satoru fought to keep himself present as he was brought to a neutral base, keeping his mind from wandering off on the now-familiar path to Suguru. Satoru could've spent the next half-hour debating the reasoning behind the near-obsession, but it was completely pointless. There was no rhyme or reason to it, and he'd only work himself up by trying to find the root of this now-massive, all-consuming weed. Instead, he relaxed onto the medical table and waited patiently for the bird-like prep team to finish yanking the hairs from his eyebrows.

Interviews were in a couple of hours.

Satoru couldn't stop his mind from wandering to his father.

The circumstances around he and his mother's arrival in One were foggy. Questions that never were answered, stories that didn't make sense, memories Satoru could never quite place - they confused him, threatening to unseat the foundation of all he knew. His mother was adamant that there was nothing special about it - she'd grown tired of living in the Capital, and his father had wanted to stay there, to keep interviewing tribute after tribute as President Kenjaku's personal Head of Entertainment. Then, he'd gone missing. No one knew why, or where, or even how, but it'd happened and there was nothing anyone could do to track him down. Satoru hadn't bought it, but he also hadn't spent too much time dwelling on it. Now that he was in the belly of the beast, however, the story was making less and less sense.

First off - Satoru's mother's reaction whenever he brought his father up. Her face turned bone-pale, her gaze grew haunted, and a scowly sort of grimace took over her usually delicate features. Her hands shook and her knees trembled, as if threatening to give out. Then came the tears - hidden just on the edge of her waterline. Not spilling, but obvious nonetheless. She'd collapse into the nearest seat, still following etiquette, still crossing her legs at the ankles, and spin some basic, boring tale about his bounder of a father. Satoru had accepted it when he was younger, if only to not cause her further distress, but it'd never seemed right.

Every time someone spoke of Osamu Gojo, it felt like they were leaving a monumental piece of it out.

Satoru recalled the odd, scrutinizing look President Kenjaku had given him. It'd been gleeful, almost - excited, as if he'd been looking forward to seeing Satoru there. How could that be? Kenjaku knew the reapings were random. Had he just assumed Satoru would one day volunteer? If so, why did he care so badly? Why did he want Satoru in the Games? It didn't make any sense. From what Satoru knew, his father had been a charming, charismatic, funny entertainer who always kept the interviews lively and was a good friend of the president. How did that translate to that same president relishing seeing his son on route to his potential demise?