As Above (So Below)

Chapter Fifteen: Blasphemy

Satoru's cheek burned white-hot in an inescapable echo of the slap, a faint handprint slowly forming on his face. Anger raced through him, nearly as wild as the fire beneath his skin. He ripped his arm from Toji's firm, unforgiving grip and stormed into the elevator, breathing heavily with rage. Toji watched him pace back and forth, clenching his fists as he practically panted, trying to calm down. He leaned against the wall of the elevator, watching the younger man prowl around the cramped space like a cornered animal, nearly snarling in his frustration.

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Satoru muttered to himself, lifting a long-fingered hand and placing it carefully against the side of his face, wincing slightly at the pressure on the forming bruise. "This is going to show, isn't it? God, what is the Capitol gonna do?"

"Nothing good," Toji replied quietly, a dangerous calm in his voice. "I told Yuki to control her mutt, and if she knows what's good for her and him, she'll follow my instructions." There was an almost righteous anger in Toji's words, something old and protective, an instinct that'd laid dormant for many years. It felt sort of paternal in nature, like some fatherly impulse finally having a resurgence after Toji had abruptly left his children's lives. Satoru couldn't decide whether he felt smothered or not - it'd been years since his parents had died or disappeared, so having someone else rush to his defense like this felt odd and a little overbearing. He shrugged it off, trying to focus on deescalating his anger.

"What do you think is going to happen?" He asked, slightly nervous, his pacing pausing in favor of his hands trembling. Toji sighed and leaned his head against the elevator wall, tilting his head back and staring up at the polished-steel ceiling in thought.

"Kenjaku can't let it slide - the rules are clear, no attacking tributes before the games in any capacity. It'd hurt the image of the games to the tributes if he didn't punish you, but he doesn't exactly want to punish you, either." Seeing Satoru's confused expression, Toji elaborated. "Think of it this way - the Culling Games are about publicity. The crowd adores you, and that means they're tuning in, eating up the propaganda, and spending copious amounts of money sponsoring you. The high society here is eating you up - they're probably in a bidding war over who gets to... have you first, and that means powerful people owing Kenjaku a lot of favors. He's not going to kill you off in the arena, and he's not going to put your health at risk going in. If you become too much of a liability, he'll get rid of you, but right now you're better for him alive than harmed."

Satoru straightened at the mention of the president deciding not to have it out for him. "You really think he won't target me?"

"I think it wouldn't make sense for him to, and regardless of how cruel he is, Kenjaku isn't stupid. He'll want to get as much use out of you as possible before tossing you away - hell, why do you think he tolerates Hakari after the whole gambling stock collapse the kid was responsible for?" Fair point. Hakari had gotten so involved in the gambling life in the Capitol that he'd caused a collapse when he convinced everyone to bet heavily on his mentee, who then died spectacularly in the arena. He, of course, had bet on someone else entirely under a false name, raking in the cash. It was cutthroat and a little disgusting, but part of Satoru admired the hustle. Besides, what did it hurt that a few rich assholes were a little less rich?

"Alright, so for now, my safety is intact. What about him?"

"What about him?" Toji replied dryly, distaste clear in his tone. "He almost fucked you over, kid. You saved his ass and he publicly challenged you. Speaking of which," Toji's tone changed from slightly angry to mildly pleased, almost impressed, "I'm not going to endorse you hitting another tribute, because we both know that's stupid, but you made the best move in an impossible situation."