The Hiro Games

CHAPTER TWO

        That night Sayuri and I ran deep into the forest. I mostly just followed after her as she pushed through. She was out of sorts, in an emotional rage. It was as if she had never seen a person die before, which was strange, as death experience was compulsory education back home. Blood and gore were the first things we learned, next to reading and math. Not to mention that every television, computer, and radio were automatically tuned to the Games for their duration. Anyone who missed the Hiro Games was either dead, or dying.
          I don't think she knew I was behind her.
        She only stopped running when she tripped and fell upon the root of a rather large tree, in tears, with her previously well groomed hair in shambles.
         When I initially ran into Sayuri during the Games, her hair was neat, and beautiful. It was a particular shade of black; one that gave off a violet sheen in the sunlight. She wore it in a large bun, high atop her head, with perfectly straight bangs that hid her brow, and a pair of side-locks that seemed to frame her face. But now, the bun was loose, sagging near the back of her neck, as the band holding it together came undone. Too many hairs were out of place, and her coiffure became an entanglement of broken twigs, dirt, and spider webs.

        This is often the way most victors make it out in the end -- as messes -- but we all start off pretty. Each tribute, decorated in the colors of his or her nation, with a fancy-yet-functional hairdo, and donning armor quite reminiscent of the Equalists. I suppose that's one advantage we non-benders had, to wear armor that our own ancestors designed decades ago. It wasn't much of an edge, but it was an edge. That and the armor color schemes.
        At home, armor was always a topic of dinner table discussion. I used to argue with my mother that a firebender was the most vulnerable in the arena, since they wore bright red. However, she said that they made up for it in ferocity, which was true. Firebenders always seemed to be the most bloodthirsty. But nonetheless, an earthbender is still far better camouflaged in the forest than any other element. Their green plumage blended well with the verdure. It was unfair, if you asked me, but I could not deny the benefits I was afforded: the UNR's flag was black and red, so my armor hid me well in the night.
        There has always been controversy over armor, and arenas, and fairness. Often times an arena can lend itself to a single element. Just three years ago, there was an arctic Games. A year after that, a tropical one. That made for a two-year waterbending streak -- before it was ended by the most recent earthbending victory. It was a desert arena.

        I approached Sayuri out from the shadows. She was sprawled beneath a small bushel of leaves that hung low from the tree beside her. Her palms were to the dirt, making her arms support her form while her head dangled toward ground, and her shoulders shivered in grief.
        "That girl's death ought to motivate us." I called out from the moonlight.
        She was silent.
        "The way he finished her... sponsors are going to be flocking to that earthbender. We need to get ourselves into the game more than ever, Sayuri."
        "The game?" she responded almost inaudibly. "I don't care about this game, Sato." Her words sputtered out near the end, with no energy to continue. Her soft cheeks became hard with anger.
         I stared back, not understanding.
        "I don't want to be a part of this. I never did." She continued, turning away from me, back towards the ground, signaling for me to leave.
        I was shocked for a moment. Sayuri quickly became an enigma. Her reaction to the firebender's death was odd, and her words were incomprehensible. How could she say such a thing? "The Hiro Games are an honor, Sayuri. You should be proud. You're a tribute -- a gift to Raava. You have to give yourself to --"
        "An honor?" she retorted harshly, cutting me off. Her voice then began to soften, as though she were now trying to reveal something to me. "An honor to kill?"
        "Yes." I said immediately. "It is our penitence. We have been chosen to regain our world's honor from the spirits, who have turned their backs on us. We are the reason the Avatar is dead."
        She didn't seem to hear me, and went on. "An honor to be killed?"
        I thought on this for a moment, but quickly stated what I thought my teacher would want me to say. "Sacrifice is necessary. What are our lives to the thousands of Avatars we've destroyed?"
        Sayuri just sat there, still facing the ground, as though she had been defeated. Finally, she spoke up, turning toward me with large eyes that seemed to pierce through me. "But isn't survival of the utmost importance?"

        I was taken aback; confused. My breath became short as my mind started to reel. I raised an arm to help regain my balance, but failed. It was like I was hit over the head. My skull pounded, and I brought my hand to it in a vain attempt to discover what was wrong. Was I shot?
      It was her words. They irritated me and sent a surge throughout my body that I was never prepared for. All I knew was that I was angry, and not sure why. It was something primal.
        I came closer to her, stumbling and grunting from the diluted mix of bewilderment and infuriation. This was while Sayuri lied back, more resigned than calm. She continued to spout out words that fed my madness, although I could no longer hear them. I was more concerned with shutting up the idea of her, rather than her physically.
        I brandished a small blade from the collection on my forearm. My steps gradually became more stable as I resolved to end her.

        Her final words were this. "I will not give myself to a lost cause."
        To which I responded plainly. "But I will."
        My teacher would be proud.