It was another morning of training and at 9 o’clock all of the tributes had already chosen their favourite stations. While all of the Careers were still held up at the weapons stations, testing out the weights of the throwing axes and having skilful sword fights with sparring partners, everyone else was still scattered about. He sighed as his fingers fumbled over each other, attempting to tie the knot at hand.

Hyungsik had spent the first day of training learning the basic survival necessities and out of an incessant insecurity he spent the beginning of day two of training learning how to create basic snares. And he could already tell after ten minutes that practice did not make perfect for him.

His fingers slipped against the course rope as they were unable to form the correct loops or tighten at the right places. Hyungsik had never been a boy who had an eye for precision. His attention and strengths had always lain within the region of thinking on his own feet and brute force when necessary. When the beads of sweat on his brow had dropped onto the back of his palm he stepped back to glimpse his handiwork.

The coil of rope had been manhandled into a giant knot. He stopped his balled fists from pounding the table with rage. Apparently, he had not inherited patience from his parents.

Grabbing the ball of mismatched tied rope he threw it hard at the table. It bounced up and landed into an open palm that was ready and waiting. The owner of the hand gave him an inquiring look.

“Need some help there?” She asked.

Hyungsik gulped. It was the girl from eleven, the one who was supposedly in cahoots with the boy from her own district. This year’s district eleven tributes seemed far too alert to be simple farm folk. With a shifty gaze at directed her, he shook his head.

“Looks like you do,” she replied whilst beginning to tug strands out of the knot. Perhaps it was the way her dainty fingers plucked each length of string from the ball, or the slight arch of her eyebrows – whatever it was Hyungsik decided he didn’t want to trust her. Something was startlingly off about her friendliness.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he quickly said as he snatched his mutilated creation from her hands. “I don’t need the help.”

Her hands, which were still held in mid-air as if she were still caressing the rope into coming undone, drifted gently onto the table to rest palm on palm. “Listen Hyungsik. You and me, we’re not too different. We’re from the districts that don’t exactly have the best odds of winning the Games. But this year, the difference is that eleven and twelve have nominated two fighters who could win if they had each other’s backs. Think about it, poor old Jieun won’t last the bloodbath. You need a … capable alternative.” Her head was tilted, encouraging him to answer.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not too sure that your district partner would be too happy with you gallivanting around with other tributes. Particularly male ones.” He focused his glance on her to see if she would back down. But of course, the only reaction she could provide him was one of distaste.

“I’m sure that Kevin has other things on his mind. And more specifically other people …” Her eyes trailed off to stare towards the side of the training centre where the sword fighting was held. Kevin’s golden mane shook up and down as he nodded at the jokes made by the girl from district one. Hyungsik could already sense the testosterone that was being released by the boy’s flirtatious advances to which the district one tribute giggled.

“And?” Hyungsik continued.

Soyu returned her determined gaze on him once more. “And, what Kevin doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She finished with a smug line fixed on her face.

-/-/-/-

As she chewed her purple desert carefully, Jooyeon couldn’t help but feel small. Throughout her entire time in the Capitol, whether it was the chariot rides or the training days, she felt all too insignificant. She wasn’t exactly a prominent character in this play; she would never be the main. After the victor would be chosen, they would celebrate. And in the shadows of their glory, she would stand there; just a stepping stone rotting away in the darkness.

She tossed her spoon down and glanced over at Sungyeol, who was as usual, wolfing down his food.

“You’ll get indigestion if you keep eating like that y’know,” she said. Over the course of the few days they had been together, she had taken it upon herself to act more like an older sister to him. Constantly peeking over his shoulder to ensure he was doing the right thing, even cleaning up after him whenever he made a mess, which was a constant habit. But, the more time they spent together the more she experienced him shrugging her off more. It was a stark contrast to the gleeful boy she had met on the train.

“Eating like what?” He responded stuffing a forkful of turkey into his mouth.

“Eating like this is the last time you’ll see food. It’s not that good for you. You can slow down every now and then.”

 Sungyeol’s jaw bounced quickly as he swallowed the meat down as if it were nothing. His brows were creased in a firm line. “When you slow down you’re vulnerable. Leave your gear on the river bank for one second while you bathe and the next thing you know, it’s gone. Walk through a clearing instead of run, bam, an arrow to the heart. Even taking your time to slowly process food instead of hurrying along, can result in a permanent termination.” Sungyeol grabbed his cup and downed the glittery juice. “Do you really know anything?”

Jooyeon’s expression turned downcast. Whenever Sungyeol had the audacity to belittle her she was never able to find the courage or strength to defend herself. And the more he slammed her with cruel realities the more her hope became depleted. She was almost out of all her optimism. She remained silent and averted his gaze.

Sungyeol sighed with exhaustion. Once again he feigned his best ‘I’m only trying to look out for you’ face, and prepared to console her as he had been doing relentlessly for the past couple of days. “Look, I’m only trying to help you out. And I know you’re trying to do the same for me. But I think it’s best if we just look out for ourselves for now. I mean, in the arena we’re going to be a team. I don’t want to be constantly bickering with you. So it’s best if we just, keep comments to ourselves then ok?”

She glanced back up. He held a soft expression which emphasised his youth. She hadn’t realised how young he was. For a sixteen year old he had a very in-depth understanding of survival. “Well, if it’s for the best I guess we should do that then.”

“Great,” Sungyeol said with a loopy smile. “I’m going to go eat with the tributes from eight so I can give you some space.” Standing up he carried his food over to the table of glum looking tributes and settled himself next to the boy.

Giving another thought to her oddly coloured food she gave up on eating and curled her arms on the table to form a small pillow for her to bury her head within. Only a couple more days and then it would all be over. Jooyeon didn’t know whether she should’ve been overjoyed or horrified.

-/-/-/-

Whipping out the bronze sword he took his stance and exhaled carefully. On his second day of training, Kibum had returned to the weapon stations to enhance his combat skills and morale. Having grown up where sewing fabrics was the norm, he had never encountered an axe or a quiver before. If it were up to him, he would have never resorted to fighting with weapons entirely. But it was what the Games had demanded of him. He had decided that he couldn’t just leave his fate to be determined by whether he could distinguish periwinkle from lavender. He had to step up and be a man.

Grasping the sword with two hands, he swept it down over the trainer’s head. The man with the grizzly beard easily deflected the blow easily, forcing Kibum’s sword back to his side. He attempted another jab, this time at the man’s side. The trainer easily twirled and clanged his weapon against Kibum’s until the tip of his sword was pointed at the ground.

He tried to pull his sword out of the deadly hold but it wouldn’t budge. And for the third time, his trainer had beaten him. The trainer delivered a clean kick to Kibum’s ribcage and he released his sword and was left sprawled on the ground.

“Almost, but not quite. You don’t wield the sword well. It’s not just a weapon, but an extension of your own arm,” the trainer stated matter-of-factly.

“I know,” Kibum replied wearily. He needed to learn sword fighting. Judging by the weapons available during previous Games, swords were recurrent and proved to be the most useful and deadly. He needed to learn how to manipulate them before one of the other tributes decided that he shouldn’t be living for another day.

“Why don’t you try daggers instead? They’re smaller, and your frame won’t work against you.”

The sword-fighting trainer reached out his hand for Kibum to take, but instead he ignored it and stood up by himself. A dull ache had begun to pulse in his side but he rejected the feeling. “You don’t get it. I need to do this. I need to survive.”

“And who says you need to? I’m sure the other tributes need to survive as well, but you can do it without sword-fighting,” his trainer said uncharacteristically gently as he plucked up Kibum’s bronze sword. “Why do you want to fight with a sword so bad?”

Kibum’s face turned ashen and his head lowered to the ground. He was returning to a previous phase in his life he wished he would never return to. He was transforming back into the little boy who couldn’t protect himself from the torments of the world. All the other boys would push him around and deliver blows to his chest while tears streamed down his face with bitter defeat. It was a painful reminder of everything he had feared. It was difficult for anyone else to understand his pain; he had always fallen into the category of the victim, being jostled around by everyone. But with this training and the eminent Games, if he retained the skills, he could no longer be the bullied. He could be the victor.

Kibum had been balancing on a tightrope between victim and victor. But he promised himself, that no matter how many times he was pulled closer towards the other side, towards his childhood of cruelty, he would still keep walking until he achieved greatness.

Raising his head, Kibum’s eyes flared with a newfound determination that made the trainer take a double take. “I have to prove myself. I have to win.”

Holding his rebuttals, the trainer tossed Kibum’s sword back to him and stood in a readied position. At the next clash of the metals, Kibum could feel the strength coursing through him. It channelled through his every vein, and with every movement of the sword he could feel its strength and lethality. It was finally, a part of him.

-/-/-/-

“So Krystal, it seems we’ve come to a bump in our relationship,” Himchan said teasingly as he chomped down on a well done piece of steak. She scoffed at the thought of there being anything other than animosity between the two of them. Ever since the Reaping it seemed that Himchan had chosen to take a very special interest in her. Everything from her training style, which she left very obscure, to her interpersonal relationships with the other tributes – he watched it all. Now, all he had left was figuring out how to make her crack, but rest assured, Krystal wasn’t the type of girl who gave up without a fight. Especially if it was to the death.

Ignoring his statement she picked at her food with the golden fork, acting engrossed in watching the maroon peas roll across the plate in a stiff competition. Their and mentors had left a while ago, leaving the two of them in a stifling conversation that made Krystal want to sock him in the jaw more than once.

“Playing hard to get? Come on now. I’d think that after spending a few days together in the same building you would’ve gotten over the ice queen act. But of course, you must love to tease.” Himchan glanced up subtly to see if any of his words had made an impact on her. But it had not even made a single ripple as her face remained an apathetic white. He continued on cautiously as a new attack strategy entered his mind. “Well it’s a shame you don’t want to talk. I bet if I was here with that sister of yours we’d have a great time.”

Krystal’s head shot up in alarm at the mention of her older sister. He grinned in triumph at having received a reaction from her.

“Well, if only she had been reaped instead of you right? And then maybe this whole game would be over sooner and I’d have one less person to kill. I’m pretty sure one of the other tributes would have taken care of her quickly or maybe just nature itself. It’s probably a family trait, something you received from your paren-”

“Shut up.” The words were silent but deadly. Krystal had reached the end of her threshold of tolerance of Himchan and his constant baiting. Standing up, she left the table and headed in the direction of her room. It was a poor move on her behalf.

“So, you’re going to leave without finishing a fight? Not very characteristic of someone from district two I’d say. But what would I expect from a poor little blacksmith’s daughter? You’ve probably never learnt discipline or respect.” His nonchalant attitude and smug smirk broke her.

Turning back towards the dining table she strode up to him with purposeful steps. She decided she was done being the victim. She wouldn’t let Himchan have the last word, nor would she let him get away with defaming her family. When she was at his side she delivered all of her built up rage in one hand. She struck his cheek as hard as she could, and with its accompanying satisfying sound she figured that she had done an admirable job.

Her eyes were wide and her breathing was wild; she felt like an animal. But she knew that he was worse, he was a pure beast. His eyes cried with incredulity as he processed the situation. Before the thought of fleeing the crime scene had even occurred to her, he grabbed her arm and kicked across her ankles. Krystal lost control of her weight and attempted to regain balance but he laid another hand around her neck and dipped her so that she hovered just above the table. He tightened his grip around her neck and smiled malevolently.

She squirmed under his grip but it was no use, she had been captured. His cruel fingers gripped tighter creating a fleshy necklace. “Looks like you have guts after all. Kudos to you. But did you know that assaulting another tribute is illegal? I could rat you out.”

Krystal glanced at the cheek she had slapped. It grew a ferocious red with the outlines of her fingers growing more visible by the second. She glared at him in response.

“But I won’t,” Himchan responded, maintaining the strain on her neck. “I’ll just make sure that you get what you deserve in the arena.” His beady eyes connected with her own, as if the gaze had sealed the threat. His eyes roamed across her face as he unnervingly scanned it. Her pining orbs were locked on the ceiling while was set in a hard line. His eyes trailed down to his own hands that clawed around with dominance, and then down to her collar bones which stuck out prominently. The human noose around her neck tightened. Krystal flinched.

Issuing his final intimidation of the evening, he lowered himself right next to her ear and put on his most deadly voice. “This isn’t a game for little girls taking cheap shots. I hope your parents taught you how to take responsibility for your actions.”

A/N: Ok I know I haven't been updating in ages but life is intense these days and I barely have time to sleep. No promises that this will be updated whenever because it probably won't happen but I'll try to update whenever I'm free. I wrote this chapter a while back and didn't get to post till now so enjoy! But thank you for your support and I'll try my best to finish this up and write better.