augustine stood frozen on her metal plate, eyes locked on the Cornucopia. The clock ticked down-ten seconds. She forced herself to stay still. One wrong step and the mines would blow.
Five seconds.
Tributes around her tensed, some shifting too soon...
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The tribute parade begins with a roar that shakes the very ground beneath your feet. You stand tall in the chariot beside Kenji, who's flashing his usual smug grin at the crowd. The Capitol's citizens are screaming in delight, their painted faces blending into a sea of garish colors and flashing lights. The sound of it is overwhelming, a storm of excitement that you're supposed to feed into. But you keep your face neutral, your mind elsewhere—focused on the moment about to come.
You glance down at the coal-black gown you're wearing, its layers heavy and hot under the glaring lights. It's designed to look like burning embers, dark and smoldering. The flames are metaphorical now, but soon, they won't be. Semi Eita's words from earlier echo in your mind: "Trust me, Augustine. This will make you unforgettable." You weren't sure then. Now, you feel the tension in your chest rising.
The chariot begins to move, rolling forward into the heart of the Capitol's grand arena, where the crowds seem even louder. You can feel the eyes of thousands of people locked onto you. Their cheers, their whistles—they're waiting for something. Kenji's beside you, soaking it all in, but you remain still, hands gripping the edge of the chariot, feeling your pulse quicken.
And then it happens.
The fabric of your dress flickers, a spark running down the seam. At first, it's subtle, just a glowing ember. But within seconds, the entire gown is consumed by flames, wrapping around your body in a dazzling inferno. The fire is real but harmless, expertly crafted by Semi Eita to burn away the outer layer of your costume. You can hear the gasps of the crowd, the sudden change in their noise, but you don't flinch.
As the flames lick up your arms and torso, the heavy black fabric disintegrates, and beneath it, another outfit is revealed. The coal is gone, replaced by something stunning—sleek, shimmering silver fabric with streaks of red that catch the light. It's as if you've stepped out of the fire, reborn, blazing brighter than before. The flames that danced along your body now settle, giving you the appearance of a phoenix rising from the ashes.
The reaction is instant. The Capitol erupts into wild applause, louder than anything you've heard yet. You can feel their eyes on you, wide with awe and fascination. They're not just cheering for District 12 now—they're cheering for you.
Kenji, for once, is speechless beside you, his confident posture faltering as he glances over at you. For all his smug attitude, he didn't expect this, didn't expect you to steal the spotlight so completely.
You don't wave, you don't smile, but you hold your head high, staring straight ahead. You know you've made your mark. They won't forget you now. You've become something more than a tribute from the forgotten coal district; you've become a symbol, something that will burn in their minds long after this parade is over.
Miya atsumu strips himself of the armour he's wearing, tossing it on the ground with no regard. his mentor, Korosu, claps his hands twice, signalling there's no cameras around them, making them speak freely.
