Hello, Fanfiction lovers! My apologies this chapter installment took so long- I had it mostly written out, but I had to add to it and I haven't had much time to work on it as of late. I'm getting ready for graduation, and I'm absolutely psyched about it (in both good and bad ways, heehee).
Something I seemed to have forgotten to share: Haruno Suisen's name means "Respect". It seemed fitting for one who escorts Tributes to the Capitol, only to watch most of them die.
I also should add that I do not own Naruto, or The Hunger Games! ;u; I only own Suisen and Akihime (thus far).
Thank you for the reviews; please don't forget to review often! It's what keeps me going. Signed reviews are extra helpful because then I can read and review your stories, too. c: I only feel this is fair, since you did take the time to read my work!
Enjoy!
Sarah the Lion (rawr)
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Deidara's final question had proven to be one of legitimacy. This wasn't quite realized until Hinata had walked with her stylist to an enormous, garage-like room. The scent was impacting, like that of a stable that had been inefficiently scrubbed with citrus. Lined up in order from One to Twelve, standing still and proud, were fancy carts. Here, the chariots connected to majestic horses, each hinted at which District it might pull. For District Four, sea creatures bejeweled the side of a net-covered chariot. Exotic folds of silk enveloped what must be District Eight's. And milling around by their respective stations, adding finishing touches to their costumes or making encouraging small-talk were the head stylists, with Tributes of every District.
The Hyuuga's breath escaped her. While some costumes were elaborate and tasteful, others seemed to be assembled and thrown on at the very last minute; namely Districts Five, Nine, and Three.
"The grain costume is so thirty years ago," remarked Deidara flippantly as he continued walking down the line. "Nine's stylists need to take the hint, and come up with something… more explosive." Both his teasing giggle and choice of words further unnerved Hinata. The same last-minute treatment was apparently applied to District Three's chariot. And possibly even the one they walked to now: adorned with shining metal flames and uninteresting lumps that must be coal.
"Your chariot awaits," said Deidara with an overly-dramatic hair flip. Hinata replied with silence, slowly approaching the massive charcoal equines that regarded her with a distant respect. They didn't trample her when she ran her palm across them. "They're well-trained. I don't think they'll harm you, hmm." After rubbing one's velvet nose, Hinata ran a hand along the wheeled chariot.
Behind their mode of transportation, a red-cheeked Naruto waited with a fresh-faced woman that must be his stylist. At the sight of Hinata, he opened his mouth and started spewing out the day's events. His stylists, like hers, were probably absolute lunatics. He notably added that they'd tried to scrub off the marks on his face. "So they're using pumice stones, or whatever the heck they called 'em, on my face. I actually started bleeding! Then Temari came in and told them to leave my marks alone. Those guys had no idea what they were doing, 'ttebayo."
Temari. This must be the name of his stylist, this young woman with multiple ponytails. She'd never heard of her before—perhaps, like Deidara, Temari was new to the Games and was assigned the classic beginner stylist's District.
"Dattebayo? Isn't that a bit childish for us District Twelve Tributes?" Hinata wondered, watching the boy shrug it off shyly. "Mine were kind, but they were strange. I wonder where the Capitol came up with its horrendous ideas of fashion—"
A sharp 'AHEM!' occurred behind the pair. They whirled around to see Deidara, arms lackadaisically crossed, looking up into the ceiling. "I take offense, hmm! My outfits aren't as tacky as Konan's." He laughed—he really was a kind person—and shook his head to dismiss his playful comment. "And I hate to interrupt you two, hmm, but you should probably stand on the chariot before they start the parade. You wouldn't want it to leave without you!"
Seamlessly, and quite out of nowhere, Temari leaped into the conversation. "When I was small, I remember watching District Three miss their chariot on television. It was such an embarrassment to their District, that for the next five years, they sent their Tributes here hours earlier than the rest in order to go over the importance of actually standing on the chariot." Her voice was dry, but still a refreshing change to the humdrum that lurked over the room.
Here Deidara snickered. "They still get here earlier than everyone. Probably because of their awful hair… though their outfits could be enviable, if they were bronze-colored."
The pair suddenly snapped back to reality when a loudspeaker overhead announced a five-minute warning. Echoing from somewhere in the room was an agitated horse's snort. When the Head Stylists finally turned toward their dolled-up Tributes, Hinata and Naruto had already been standing atop the chariot's sturdy platform for a few minutes.
"It's hard to balance in these shoes," Hinata remarked. Deidara had given her a slight platform to boost her height, make her appear taller and hopefully, in turn, more threatening. But even he had his doubts about Hinata being a feared opponent, which he did his best to subdue.
"Oh, it's nothing compared to these, hmm." When he kicked up his heel for all to see, it seemed no wonder that yes, even men in the Capitol wear high shoes. "At least you're not wearing heels. Some of the other Tributes have to practice for days to stand in them on the chariots."
Naruto smirked, nudging Hinata's shoulder in a manner that made her jump. "Guess you're luckier than you thought!"
Momentarily disgusted, she stepped away from the blonde boy. "But you're wearing regular shoes," pointed out the girl, "which makes the situation wholly unfair." Then the Tributes wrinkled their noses, delving deeper into choppy, nervous conversation. The parade would start at any moment. There was also an odd smell, like something burning...
A quick peek over her shoulder, and Hinata understood. Though she'd forgotten entirely about the fire, she had no problem with it. But from what Temari seemed to be quietly communicating to Deidara, Naruto was entirely displeased with the whole idea.
Just before the lit match met the fabric of his jumpsuit, he panicked.
Though he was determined to flee the chariot, Hinata grabbed a hold of his collar and clutched the fabric for dear life. Somehow, he was stronger than she'd imagined. "Hope you're not afraid of fire? Puh!" cried Naruto, who was restrained by the two blonde stylists from removing his all-black jumpsuit. "You can't light me on fire!"
"Yes we can!" snarled Temari in a hushed manner, succeeding in igniting him and giving him an incredibly stern look. "You need to make a good impression on these people. I suggest, if you want to live, that you behave like you do." While Naruto had thrown a fit about his cape being lit, Hinata allowed hers to be done peaceably.
Never had Hinata seen Naruto shut up so quickly. A mirror that Temari had threatened to smack him with was now being used to practice smiles. Surely, he wasn't an opponent to be feared, as Temari had tried to make him out to be with this costume.
Now Hinata was ashamed she had to wear the ebony, form-fitting outfit that matched his. Partly, because he was being so obnoxious. Another contributing factor was that every eye in the Capitol would catch a glance of them. She'd never been the center of attention before and had never planned to be.
A soft bell sounded off somewhere in the ceiling, and the furthest-most chariot—District One—lurched forward without warning. A subtle chemical smell, probably what nourished the harmless flames, hit their noses. In a last-resort move, Hinata gave Naruto a whisper of a lecture. "Please don't embarrass District Twelve tonight. Our stylists picked the outfits out, so they have to be safe. Just don't… don't do anything stupid."
Is this how she saw the boy with the bread, the boy who had saved her family from starving to death? As only a stupid child? Regret snapped its jaws, and while Hinata wished she could retract her statement, she knew she could not.
He brushed off her statement in a moment of pure relief. "Sure." Finally calmed down, Naruto stepped closer to Hinata on the platform and looked at her curly up-do. "He put your hair up so it wouldn't be singed. But… it looks good on you." His attempt to be polite was beyond cheesy.
For whatever reason, Hinata felt her face illuminate. Kiba usually never complimented her looks, only her aim and form on her archery. But she absolutely did not like Naruto. What he had done in the past was commendable, but that would not make up for the fact that they were in these Games together…
When Deidara gave a thumbs-up to the pair and their nervous, accidental flirting, that's when Hinata broke her attention to the chariots ahead of them. Five had already begun to move. No, six. "You don't have to do that," she finally whispered in reply.
Puzzlement danced in Naruto's baby blue eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to understand. Seven chariots had exited the building and had begun their journey down the grand cobblestone, between the rows of screaming Capitol crowds. "Don't have to do what?" he asked. Now, eight. To the sound of horses' hooves clapping the ground, they had been moving at a slow and steady pace for a few moments now.
"Be kind to me. The bread was enough. You saved my life, and now we're destined enemies." Her voice had squeaked near the end of her sentence, and she bit her lip. The disdain on Naruto's face tried to disprove her, but their rushed conversation was interrupted.
Yelling, now far behind them, caused the two to look back. There were Temari and Deidara—what were they doing? Realization, which had slowly sunk in for Hyuuga Hinata, hit her between the eyes and somewhere deep within the pit of her stomach. The stylists stood close together, smiling dazzlingly, and linked by their hands.
Naruto didn't question. In fact, he was probably excited to obey orders. He gently took Hinata's hand, caressing it in his own awkwardly, and squeezed it. Hinata held his band tightly in return. Sure, he was being polite and following Temari's suggestion. However—none of the other pairs of Tributes were holding hands or even acknowledging the other.
This would go far. Really Naruto could reply to Hinata's earlier statement, though, the masterfully-designed iron gates before them creaked open, and the District 12 pair was staring, in glorious deer-in-the-headlights fashion, into the vast, crowded street.
The Capitol citizens were sitting in stands on either side of the cobblestone road. No sooner did they leave the building that they noticed almost every pair of eyes was locked on them. Hands covered gaping mouths. Cheers emanated from every direction, rattling their eardrums. Some of those cheers included their names. Whether everyone else had been an absolute bore, or they were actually the most dazzling team to have entered in twenty years remained a mystery; the only important they had captured the attention of the arena, and just as certainly, that of the world. This was probably proper, according to Suisen and Kakashi, to jostle up good sponsors.
Until they saw themselves on the jumbotron-like screens, neither realized how pitiful and frightened they looked. The flames were a hit with the crowd, but it was not until they smiled did the crowd really explode with screams. Were they not parading away to their deaths, it would have been a very joyous and exhilarating time… but Hinata and Naruto found that the longer they travelled in the chariot, the more excited they became.
Hinata's trembling had stopped when she held tight to Naruto's hand and waved her free hand, choosing specific Capitol citizens to give her attention to. Naruto did the same, only with smiles and shy winks. It must have been wonderful, because people seemed to shove each other out of the way to be the center of their affections. Somewhere during the parade, their raised their conjoined hands and treated their closeness as a trophy. The Capitol citizens and screens, too, treasured their odd gesture of friendship.
After a while, the ride stopped at the City Circle, where the other chariots had recently halted as well. Many of the Tributes—particularly those in fanciful costumes or from privileged districts—shot nasty looks to the illuminated Twelve tributes. They accused the flames of being distracting, their "team player" attitude appalling, and so on. But what the other teenagers found despicable, the Capitol found delightful.
A lone podium stood empty in front of the horses and carts and children. Everyone knew that the lavish mansion in the distance beyond it was where the President lived. But though he strongly advocated the Games and was such a part of the planning for them, he was never to be seen at an opening ceremony. In fact, most of Panem's denizens had never heard his voice, seen a picture of him, or knew of his true name.
This had been rumored to be a tactic for keeping the Districts in line—that there was a threatening, mysterious man in office whom not one knew the power or potential of. This was not a rumor. In fact, it worked a little too well. For Hinata knew for a fact that those serious law-breakers in District Twelve, those who had gone to meet with the President, had never been heard from again.
The silence was deafening. Nervous murmurs spread from chariot to chariot, that the President might finally reveal himself before next year's 75th annual Hunger Games. A figure walked up to the podium, and someone cried, "The President!" But this was false. Instead of him, up walked his right-hand man, another man whom no-one knew the real name of. They just referred to him as "Vice".
The Vice President had ashy brown skin. Gripping his hands to the sides of the podium, he pasted on his best smile—blatantly forced— and stiffened his shoulders to match the harsh creases in his suit's sleeves. His speech was not rushed—it was simply short and to the point.
"Greetings, citizens of the Capitol, and Tributes. This is the start of your training for the Games. You'll be directed to your rooms at the Training Center immediately, where you'll begin your official combat training in the morning. May the odds be ever in your favor. Goodnight."
Some horses pawed at the ground, and some snorted; but all followed a bend in the road that drug the twenty-four Tributes to the towering Training Center.