𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓖𝓸𝓮𝓼 | Katsuki Bakugou x Male reader

Chapter 14

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(M/N) remained at the window long after the woods had swallowed up the last glimpse of his house. This time he didn't even have the slightest hope of returning. Before his first Games, he promised Eri he would do everything he could to win, and now he'd sworn to himself to do all he could to keep Katsuki alive. He would never reverse this journey again.

He'd actually figured out what he wanted his last words to his loved ones to be. How best to close and lock the doors and leave them sad but safely behind. And now the Capitol had stolen that as well.

"We'll write letters, (M/N)," Katsuki said from behind him. "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Shota will deliver them for us if... they need to be delivered."

(M/N) nodded and went to his room. He sat on the bed, knowing he would never write those letters. They would be like the speech he tried to write to honour Wendy and Shoji in District 11. Things seemed clear in his head and even when he talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses and a stroke of Eri's hair, a caress of Shoto's face. They couldn't be delivered with a wooden box containing his cold, stiff body.

Too heartsick to cry, all (M/N) wanted was to curl up on the bed and sleep until they arrived in the Capitol tomorrow morning. But he had a mission. No, it was more than a mission. It was his dying wish. Keep Katsuki alive. And as unlikely as it seemed that he could achieve that in the face of the Capitol's anger, it was important that he was at the top of his game. This couldn't happen if he was mourning everyone he loved back home.

Let them go, (M/N) told himself. Say goodbye and forget them. He did his best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside him, locking the doors against their return.

By the time Emi knocked on his door to call him to dinner, he was empty. But the lightness wasn't entirely unwelcome.

The meal was subdued. So subdued, in fact, that there were long periods of silence relieved only by the removal of old dishes and presentation of new ones. A cold soup of vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy lime paste. Those little birds filled with orange sauce, with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate custard dotted with cherries.

Katsuki and Emi made occasional attempts at conversations that quickly died out.

"What's with the gold hair?" Katsuki questioned.

"I had it especially done to match (M/N)'s pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Shota a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team," Emi said.

Evidently, Emi didn't know that (M/N)'s mockingjay pin was now a symbol used by the rebels. At least in District 8. In the Capitol, the mockingjay was still a fun reminder of an especially exciting Hunger Games. What else could it be? Real rebels don't put a secret symbol on something as durable as jewellery. They put it on a wafer of bread that can be eaten in a second if necessary.

"You don't say," Shota said, though his voice lacked the usual sarcasm it normally held. He wasn't drinking, but (M/N) could tell he wanted to. Emi had them take her own wine away when she saw the effort he was making, but he was in a miserable state. If he were the tribute, he would have owed Katsuki nothing and could have been as drunk as he liked. Now it was going to take all he had to keep Katsuki alive in an arena full of his old friends, and he'd probably fail.

"Maybe we could get you a wig, too," (M/N) said in an attempt at lighting the mood. Shota just shot him a look that said to leave him alone, and they all ate their custard in silence.