A/N: My Clato obsession continues to grow and so I decided to attempt write something a little longer this time. Once again, reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
We didn't mean to become friends. It was more of a friendship by default kind of thing. He was the only one who was as skilled as I was, not that I'd ever admit that to him. Of course our friendship wasn't exactly conventional. It consisted of us trying to one-up the other on a daily basis, and attempting to prove that we were the better fighter any chance we got. Everyone else thought that we were rivals, that we hated each other. They just didn't understand the nature of our friendship.
In the beginning we really, truly despised each other.
When I was twelve it was decided I would train with the older kids. I was way more skilled than any of the numskulls my age, and every fight I won with ease, there was absolutely no challenge. On my first day I noticed him right away. Four dummies were set up around him, and in less than thirty seconds he had stabbed all of them in the heart with his sword. I was impressed, but I wasn't going to let him know that.
I stopped staring at him when one of the trainers took it upon themselves to introduce me.
"This is Clove," The kids murmured excitedly, eyeing me like a piece of fresh meat.
"She was too advanced for her group so she's going to be joining us," My eyes were drawn back to the boy with the sword, and I watched as he rolled his eyes and laughed at me.
"She's like, 10!" The boy yelled out. "She doesn't belong here; she's going to get hurt!" A few other boys chuckled and nodded in agreement.
He didn't think I was good enough! My brow furrowed and I felt my face turning red with anger. Swiftly I pulled my knife out of my belt and flung it through the air. It soared across the room and landed in the mat directly beside him. I smiled, watching as a small drop of blood trickled down from where I had slightly nicked his right ear. Everyone else in the room looked astonished, but he kept that smile planted firmly on his face.
"You missed," he shouted, a smug smile still on his face.
"Cato," the trainer beside me warned. He ignored the trainer's warning.
"Why don't you try again?"
I reached for another knife, but the trainers jumped into action, one held back my hands while the other took the remaining knives off my belt. Once they were sure I was weapon free, they started reprimanding me-something about how I shouldn't throw knives at other trainees' heads. I nodded along and snuck a peek back over at this cocky boy Cato. He was holding a sword and watching me intently.
Throughout the rest of the day I caught him shooting glances at me, and it motivated me to train harder, simply to prove to him that I belonged there and that I was just as good, if not better, than everyone else.
It wasn't until a few days later, when the trainees began to fight against each other, that I realized he was the best fighter here. He won every with ease, pinning his competitors down in mere seconds. Once he had successfully sent five students to the first aid office, the trainers decided it was a good idea to pit me against him. After all, I was the only kid here who had never fought him before.
When they called my name I stood up calmly, unlike the other trainees who had either groaned or were so scared they started shaking. I knew he expected me to be scared, but instead I was excited. Fights were just so exhilarating. Cato took notice in my calm attitude and it threw him off. I suspected it had been a while since anyone wasn't petrified of fighting him, and it was obvious he was angry about my cool demeanor. I flashed a smile to throw him off even more.
"3, 2, 1," someone called out from the side, "Fight!"
We jumped into action immediately. He lunged for me but I evaded him with ease, the fact that I was smaller and more agile than him gave me an advantage when dodging my opponents. There were wooden poles to the right of us and I ran to grab one, knowing that without a weapon there was no way I could beat him. Instantly he realized my plan and ran after me. I reached the poles just as he caught up to me, and he grabbed me from behind. I responded by elbowing him in the gut. Once he dropped me I snatched up a pole and hit his shins hard, a sickening crack echoing throughout the gym. I knew I hadn't hit him hard enough to actually break his legs, just cause some serious bruising. When he fell to the ground I climbed on top of him and tried to pin him down; meanwhile he reached out and grabbed a pole of his own. He hit the side of my head and I rolled off of him, a slight ringing in my ears from the blow. Quickly we both got to our feet and continued swatting at each other for a good minute. Eventually he managed to hit my torso hard and I fell down. He pinned me and held me there, I struggled but his grip was too powerful. Someone on the sideline counted to ten and I was declared 'dead'.
Even though I lost that first fight I had lasted longer than everyone else, and he was impressed.
"Seems like you're not as fragile and weak as you appear," he remarked once we were both standing again. I shot him my signature glare. How dare he say I look fragile and weak, sure I was small, but definitely not fragile nor weak.
"If you're the best fighter District 2 has we're in serious trouble. I'm two years younger than you and I almost took you down," I rebutted.
"You did not!" He turned defensive quickly and I laughed. Suddenly I was in control, and I liked it.
"Oh I definitely did," I said and pushed past him, walking out of the large gym. I could feel his eyes piercing the back of my head as I left.
From then on we would fight each other any chance we got. A lot of the time it happened when we were supposed to be practicing our skills independently, one of us would make a snide comment at the other and suddenly we were rolling around on the ground or holding weapons to the other's throat. More often than not our fights resulted in injury, like the time I sliced open his arm. I still smile whenever I see the nasty scar on his left arm. As a result we got in trouble an awful lot, but we also became better fighters.
However, sometime during all those fights and competitions we began to acknowledge each other as equals. We gained respect for the other, and our friendship formed.
One time I walked into the gym only to find an obnoxious redhead fingering my favourite knife, I had left my belt of knives on the side bench and she had taken it upon herself to steal one. I wasted no time in telling her off.
"That's my knife," I said. She looked me over and scoffed.
"Get another," Her voice was as obnoxious as her face.
"I don't want to get another, that's my knife," I repeated. Who did this girl think she was? Everyone knew I was the best knife thrower in District 2, I was lethal. Yet she had the audacity to roll her eyes at me and turn around. Turning her back to me was her first mistake. I took her down easily, and in less than 10 seconds she was pinned on the ground, the knife at her throat.
"Help!" she screamed, and I laughed. Was she actually asking for help? Apparently so, and before I knew it two larger boys had come over and pulled me off her, slamming me into the ground. My head was pounding but I wasn't about to back down. I was younger then, not as rational, and there was no way I would ever walk away from a fight. Plus she was still clutching my knife!
I stood back up and lunged for the girl. The older boys were stronger though, and the two of them together overpowered me. In addition, the girl was back on her feet and assisting in pinning me down. I was greatly outnumbered, and about to have my head smashed in when I heard Cato's familiar boots running over. In one fluid movement one boy was pulled off of me, freeing my right arm. He landed with a thud behind Cato, and with my free arm I punched the other boy's nose. I felt the bone break underneath my palm and smirked as he yelped out in pain. Cato lifted the girl off of me with ease and held her limbs down so she couldn't fight back. I reached over and snatched the knife from her hand, being sure to smile widely as I did so. Once I had the knife Cato dropped her on the ground, and all three of them wasted no time in hurrying away. The girl ran to another training section, and the boys headed over to the first aid office.
I ran my hand over the smooth edge of the knife, smiling at the familiar serrated edge. I looked up to find Cato staring down at me expectantly. I sighed, realizing that I had to thank him, something that I tried to avoid whenever possible.
"Thanks," I mumbled, "I could've taken them though," His eyes widened.
"As if," he scoffed, "Please, if I hadn't come over to help she would've slit your throat,"
"Yeah, like she has the guts to actually do that. She wouldn't make it past the first hour in the games," He actually laughed at that comment and I was taken aback. He was always so intense, so serious; it was weird to hear him laugh.
"Very true," he agreed.
That day something changed. He had helped me, defended me. It was then when I realized that despite constantly fighting, he would always be there to back me up. Then I realized if he was ever in danger, I would be there to help him without a second thought as well.
