TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death
THEMES: BakuTodo, Hunger Games AU
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With a wave of a perfectly manicured hand, the Capitol TV anthem was switched off, leaving the room to wallow in a tense silence. Children's cries and parents' wails echoing even as he drifted off to sleep...
"If you can hide out until day 5 then you have a statistically higher chance of winning. It's 70% likely there will be some sort of water source, so that should be your first priority, and 54% rucksacks closest to the pedestals have had a small knife and cantine in the past six years. And-"
"Shut up Deku! It'll be fine!"
"But Kaachan, this is serious! It's not play pretend anymore!"
Bakugou looked at the teary, wide green eyes looking up at him, imploring him to listen for once in his life. For what could possibly be the last time in his fucking life. He scowled, turning to look out the window of the town hall, looking at the many families embracing the fact they get to have their children for another year. His mother had already yelled at him, telling him to not waste his hard work building up his body and strength, and to listen to Deku's advice. He'll pretend he didn't see her walking away crying, probably to visit his dad's grave.
He clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white, yet was unable to hide the shaking that had occurred from the moment his name was called.
"Kaachan," Deku whispered brokenly, "please be careful."
"You damn nerd. I'm not planning on going anywhere. I'm number one, remember?!"
Deku gave a weak chuckle before smothering Bakugou in a hug he couldn't escape even if he wanted to. Which, for the first time in a long fucking while, he didn't want to. He knew his and Deku's relationship had been rocky these recent years, but he was grateful for the one constant in his life that didn't yell and complain even if it came from a place of love.
"Plus ultra and all that shit, right?" Bakugou huffed, recalling the old superhero cartoon book they had managed to find in the Seam, some remnant of time before the dark days.
A knock on the door brought reality crashing down on them once more. If Bakugou was a shade paler then Izuku didn't say anything, just gave Bakugou another hug before he was led out of the town hall and towards the train station, starting his journey to the end of the line. He just didn't know how close that end would be...
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"And finally, the male tribute from District 12... Bakugou Katsuki. Won't you come on u-"
Sharp, cat-like eyes blinked slowly, thoughts deep and dangerous as he finished watching the Reaping for the 3rd time. So many possibilities, he would have to do some planning.
"Bring me my writing tools." he spoke, eyes not looking over to the tongue-less Avox standing inanimately in the corner of the room. "And I want to speak to Yamada."
The Avox bowed before exiting the room, leaving him to exist in the silence once more...
Bakugou wanted to rip his stylists' head off. What was he thinking setting him on goddamn fucking fire?! Well, it wasn't real fire, but it was still fucking scary. Did the horrid gaudy-haired man not realise how many people in his district died in the mines from small fucking flames?! Stupid Capitol bastard!
He couldn't care less that the guards were sending him cautious looks, ready to step in if he exploded. That only happened once, when his mentor had surprised him from the back and he had accidentally punched her. He wasn't punished, thankfully, but it was fucking annoying having to be escorted by two guards to his fancy ass room in the Training Centre.
"Great job Bakugou!" his stylist, Yama-something said with a grin as wide as his hair was tall. Too fucking wide, that's what. He was talking to the female tribute from his district but he didn't care to learn her name. Not when she would be dead soon.
The walk back to his room was too long. The cheering crowds making him sick to his stomach. Rich bastards already betting on which kid would die first. Some of them were only fucking twelve! His scowl remained until he slammed the door in his mentor's face, not wanting to look at vomit green hair any longer. He washed in the fancy shower and put on a loose shirt and pants, ready to start his nightly workout before bed. There was nothing wrong with getting ahead.
He cast a glance at the clock, noting the late time, and went to finish his last rep of push-ups but stopped when a flash of movement caught his eye. A shadow, slipping around the corner of the building. District 12 was known as the shitty district, so he scoffed at the fact that they were given the 'penthouse' rooms. The penthouse still had a dozen floors above it where he knew the damn guards and other rich bastards lived.
The shadow, however, was new. Nobody was rarely on their floor apart from his mentor and stylist, the guards having their own private hallways. He grunted and continued his push-ups, but curiosity had its claws on him so he slipped on some boots and a jacket and left his room. He followed the shadow down the stairs to the basement where the training room was set, slipping inside just before the doors shut.
He swore under his breath, losing sight of the hooded figure but instead looking at the backs of 2 guards. He hid behind a pillar and watched the guards switch over, glancing around the large space for the shadow. His eyes narrowed as he saw movement in the rafters above, moving between the darkness with practise. The clock revealed it was five to the hour, and the guards left their shift; Bakugou silently stepping around the pillar to avoid being seen.
The second the doors shut the figure dropped down, landing perfectly silent. They were in all black, but he caught a glimpse of pink under the hood when the stranger removed their bag. They moved around the centre with accuracy, placing things in alcoves, under bars, and atop beams, all out of sight from the observation box.
Fuck, who was this person?
He stepped out to confront them when a blaring alarm went off. He swore under his breath before leaving the centre and racing back up to his room, not wanting to be seen acting suspicious by the guards. He needed to be in the best shape before the games if he wanted to survive.
His night was spent with guards searching his room - probably for the fucking shadow he followed earlier - and a restless sleep, too many questions in his mind...
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"I got the supplies inside. Now we have to see who is smart enough to use them."
"Indeed, we're running low on time after all."
"Hmm..."
Kirishima. That was the boy's name. Thought with his shitty red hair that was somehow fucking natural his new name was Shitty Hair. Names meant getting attached. Bakugou couldn't afford to get attached, not when only one of them would be walking out of the arena alive.
Still, allies were useful. Deku would say shit like a tribute with 2 or more allies increases their chances of becoming a victor by 21% or something like that. Kirishima could be worse, he was kinda smart knives and shit, coming from District 8 whose industry was textiles. He had a sharp eye, and when he found some of the things that shadow from last night layed out, he thought it would be a good idea to get someone like that on his side. However long the alliance may last.
"Shitty Hair, know who that is?" he asked, not taking his eyes away from the new face in the observation box. He was dressed rich, looked rich, and held himself high, but Bakugou could see the traces of discomfort on his face. He was far younger than the rest of the men in the box.
"Dunno Bakubro." Shitty Hair grinned, far to bright and happy considering their situation.
He kept an eye on the stranger until the alarm for lunch went off. He saw him slip out and take the stairs to the rooftop, a place he'd only visited once. Grabbing a sandwich, he told Shitty Hair he was getting some fresh air before following the stranger. The rooftop was big and had a view of the whole of the Capitol, gleaming lights and towering skyscrapers. It was all so much it made Bakugou sick, but he had worse problems to think about right now.
The boy was there, looking out at the view with a distant gaze. His hair was red and white, split right down the middle like those mint candies he saw getting sold in the town square on Sundays. They couldn't afford that shit, but one time an old man running the stall gave him and Deku one each for free. Kindness like that shit was rare. Too caught up in his thoughts, the door shut louder than he intended behind him, making the stranger jump. They held eye-contact for a moment before:
"Hello there."
"Who're you?" he asked, blunt as ever.
"No-one." the boy resumed looking out on the view.
Bakugou scoffed but walked closer until they were standing side by side. The boy probably already knew his name, his and the other tributes' were broadcast around the Capitol too many fucking times a day like they were the shiny new toys in the Capitol's sick amusements.
"What were you and the one with red hair hovering around earlier?" the stranger asked.
It was a small pocket knife, one easily hidden inside the side of a boot or the cuff of a jacket. One of two that the shadow from last night must have placed. They also a packet of pills that sanitised water, smart knowing how the Gamesmakers liked to poison goddamn water in the games. He was silent, looking at the boy a moment longer before replying.
"Just what you hid last night."
The calm expression didn't change, but Bakugou caught the twitch in the corner of his mouth.
"You shouldn't say such things out loud, you never know whose listening in." The boy's eyes flick over to a plant pot in the corner, one that twitched in their direction every so often. Fucking sneaky. "But, even if he does hear this, just know I hate the games and what they stand for."
His jaw almost dropped, almost, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki he had enough self-restraint. What person from the Capitol says shit like that?! And he looked so nonchalant too, if not for the new gleam in his eyes, which he noticed were two different colours. Split right down the fuckin' middle. He didn't ask who he was, but a glance at the red scar surrounding the boy's right eye made him think he shouldn't.
"He sounds like a dick. They all do. Sick bastards."
The faintest laugh was his response, and the boy turned to look his figure over. Eyes sharp and calculating looked him up and down, Bakugou not knowing how to react at the seeming pleased expression he saw.
"Your hair dyed or some shit?" he blurted out, cracking under that intense gaze.
A louder laugh this time, the boy stepping closer and slipping something into his pocket before heading back to the doors.
"Stick with me and you'll find out."
And wasn't this fucking dramatic. Watching a stranger walk away with the sun settling on his hair like a halo, the infinite Capitol landscape splayed out below them...
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A/N: Hey everyone! This is a snippet of a new story I may be starting. It's pretty rough and hasn't been properly edited but I'd like to know initial thoughts. Enjoy!