.
◈
לחזור
la⬩cha⬩zor
to return
◈
At first, he senses nothing. Only black.
And then… sounds.
A pause. A breath.
A slight hum.
The subtle beep of a machine?
He blinks his eyes open. White greets him, a sterile expanse unlike anything he's ever seen.
Is this heaven?
(Would his heart be beating if it weren't?)
But where else could he possibly be?
A faint cawing sounds from overhead as the shadow of a bird flickers over him. A man looks up to see a falcon flying by, its silhouette sharp against the midday sun. For a moment, he considers reaching out toward the bird, but he knows he will never be able to come even close to touching it.
Instead, he lets his hand hang over the edge of the boat, skimming the seaspray as he travels on. He can still remember his fascination with this thing called the ocean the first time he saw it, its vast expanse beckoning him to explore. And just as he did that day, he leans over the edge of the boat, catching sight of his reflection in the ripples of the water.
If he looks closely, he can almost see his childhood face smiling broadly back at him.
He wonders, as the boat continues to sail beneath him, what his younger self would think of who he'd become. Born of one nation and sent to another, that boy spent this boat ride eagerly developing a new identity, forged from the pages and bindings of mystery books long abandoned. When they finally docked after what seemed like ages at sea, his eyes were sparkling bright, as they took in the sights of the first place he'd ever truly get to explore. Today, Kazanato, tomorrow, the world!
But he knows, now, that there is far more of the world to see than he could ever imagine, than he could ever hope to discover. In the thirty-six years since he'd left his mother country, he didn't even manage to cross Kazanato's borders.
And while that spark of curiosity has not left his heart, all Runar Theron wants to do now is return home.
I'm never going to go home.
It's the first thought that comes to Runar's mind as he opens his eyes. Or perhaps it's the last thing he thinks as he goes to sleep; his brain is too fuzzy to tell. It's as if his memories of the past two weeks have shattered, some pieces flying into places he can't reach and others swapped out for new ones entirely. All he wants to do is start putting his thoughts back together - problem is, he doesn't even know where to start.
He takes a breath. Then another. Runar can feel his chest rise and fall, but he's still not sure whether that means he's in heaven or not. It's only when he tries to move his hand to take his own pulse that Runar realizes that he must somehow be alive.
There's no way that he would have this many wires attached to his arm if he was in heaven.
OK, so he knows where he's not, but that tells him nothing about where he is or what's going on. If there's one thing he's good at, though, it's figuring stuff like this out. He begins to look carefully around the room, every square inch a possible clue. And against the all-white walls, anything else stands out – like the plastic box attached to the wall next to the windowless door.
Windowless. Now that he thinks about it, there are no windows in this room at all. Which probably means that either he's in the middle of a building or he's underground. Is this where the survivors went after the Games? Were there survivors, or was the Golden Dagger a farce for everyone? If there were no survivors, or if I'm not there, then where am I? Maybe where they take the dead bodies to after the Games? But where do they take the dead bodies to?
"I have a feeling you might have some questions."
Runar's head snaps up, eyes landing on a figure in the doorway. "How'd you know?"
"I have my ways. Let's see if what I have to say provides the answers you're looking for – though it might just create more questions in turn." The man steps into the room; a nurse slips in silently behind him, gently closing the door and locking it. "My name is Santos Toritius, and I hold the title of Secretary to the President. My responsibilities include, among other things, maintaining and memorizing a large amount of classified information. Today, I am going to begin to share with you the most confidential intel that I hold – facts that just a handful of people in Panem currently know."
If there were any thoughts left in Runar's brain, they're forgotten in a flash; he's even able to block out the nurse as she begins removing his wires. Every ounce of his attention is squarely on Secretary Toritius's words, because this might be the coolest fucking thing that has ever happened to Runar Theron.
"The information we will start sharing with you today is a matter of national security," begins the secretary, stepping up to Runar's bed. "We have reason to believe that this country will come under attack in the not-too-distant future, but we have no clear timeline as to what will happen or when. Faced with this danger, our mission chief selected you to help protect this great nation, believing in your wit, curiosity, and positive attitude. You will have until the day of the Victory Banquet, however long that takes, for briefing and training; what we cannot cover during that time will be reviewed with your mission chief on the way to your mission site."
For the first time in his life, Runar is too stunned to speak. It actually takes a moment for his brain to kick into gear, to latch on to anything that Secretary Toritius just told him. Finally, he finds the words to ask a question – for once, the simplest one he could have asked.
"Someone picked me?"
"Yes."
"Out of, like, anyone in Panem?"
"Yes."
"Did they pick me before the Games?"
"Yes."
"So, like…" Runar starts slowly, little glimmers of ideas coming together in his mind. "it was planned for me to be Reaped?"
"Correct."
"Why?"
"That I will explain in due time."
"For how long?"
"Long enough that the Gamemakers were able to plan the Games around it."
"Was everything planned for all the Games stuff?"
"As much as we could."
"Including the Golden Dagger task," Runar confirms.
"Yes. As far as the rest of the country knows, you failed your Golden Dagger task. Your closed-casket funeral will take place in a few days."
"So everyone thinks I'm dead?"
"Yes."
"But I was never really at risk of dying?"
"The risk was there, certainly," Toritius replies. "But we worked carefully with the Gamemaker team to reduce it as much as humanly possible."
"Do they know why I was supposed to be saved like this? The Gamemakers?"
"No." Toritius explains, "Head Gamemaker Emerald received orders from the President without context, and with the explicit instructions that her team should be given directions without explanations."
"Like the launch spots and stuff?"
"You're a sharp one. Yes, where you launched and who was within relative vicinity of you were very carefully picked."
"So how did I fake die? Like how'd you fake it?"
"Remember those birds that chased you? Only one of them actually pricked you, injecting a tranquilizer into your system. You'd been guided to a particular spot in the Arena where the ground could fall out from beneath you, allowing us to make it seem like the birds had totally consumed your body. Then we placed you onto a hovercraft and brought you here."
"Whoa."
Where to even start processing all of this? Everything he thought he knew about his Games has been blown out of the water. And yes, the Capitol gaslit him. And yes, they lied to him. And yes, he could have very much died. But all Runar can think is how fucking awesome this is! Someone valued him, saw him as important and useful and special, and that person made the entire Capitol shape at least some part of the most important Games ever around him.
Until reality hits Runar again like a crashing wave.
"Am I ever going to get to go home?" he asks, barely loud enough for Toritius to hear.
"Most likely not."
"Oh."
A moment passes. Runar's chest begins to ache. He should have seen that answer coming – he's not an official survivor, after all – but that doesn't make it hurt any less. No chance of seeing his mother or brother or friends again. No shot of sleeping in his own bed or running on his favorite track. Everything he's ever known will only grow farther and farther away until it disappears into the void of memory.
He has his life, sure, and an opportunity that nobody else will ever have. But is that once-in-a-lifetime experience worth the heartache of loss?
Runar doesn't know. And even if he did, he has the sense that it isn't really his choice.
"I know this is a lot to take in," Toritius says, his voice far kinder than anything Runar expected from a man of his stature. It's as if all of Runar's questions chipped away at his official persona, leaving a real person in his stead.
"Yeah."
"I wonder if it might help you to meet your mission chief," Toritius suggests. "Then you can decide if you're ready to begin the orientation and briefing process today or if you'd rather wait until tomorrow."
Runar cocks his head, then gives a small nod. "Are they going to come here?"
"No, I think we'll go into another room. Something a little bit less sterile. And we need a projector for some of our briefing material." He looks across the bed to the nurse, who gives a gentle nod. "Shall we?"
Runar nods. He allows the nurse to help him out of bed, but as he traces a circle around himself, he's surprised by how steady his legs feel. "How long has it been since I was saved?"
"Just a day," Tortitius says. "We needed to monitor you overnight, but you had no injuries or anything that would require monitoring like in the case of certain Victors."
"Makes sense."
He follows Toritius out of the room into a narrow, grey corridor, the nurse following behind. Runar can barely see around him as they walk, but he thinks he spots a shadow of movement in the dark room up ahead. They make it most of the way down the hallway before Runar freezes in his tracks, a flash of realization hitting him like lightning.
"Where's my token?"
Toritius stops up ahead. "What's that?"
"My token. From the Arena. Where is it? I need it."
"I believe it was in your backpack, which we took off when you got to our facility-"
"I need my token. Please. Please." The boy can feel the tears pricking in his eyes. If he can't go home, the tattered Finley Files manuscript is the only thing he could have to remind him of his mother. Runar needs a piece of her with him, so that he can pretend she's right there to hold him in tough times and tell him everything will be OK.
Her words have already gotten Runar through so much.
"Well, I can put a request in to retrieve it. No bodies or tokens are sent home until the end of- "
"You mean this manuscript?"
Runar freezes. He can't place the voice, but he swears he's heard it before. Words of comfort… a soft lullaby…
Toritius steps aside, revealing a man – the man – his eyes.
"Dad?"
"Hi, son."
For years, Runar has envisioned this exact moment in his head. He'd run towards his father, letting his old man sweep him off his feet in a hug. But all he can think of now, as he takes a packet of yellowed, tattered pages from Alec's hand, is the haunting look that crossed Aria Theron's face every time Runar asked about her husband. Alec Vacker left his family, abandoned them with no warning. Can Runar still call himself a good son if he chooses to love his father now?
"You can come closer. I don't bite."
Runar steps forward once, twice, a third time. He gingerly takes the manuscript from his father's hand, clutching it to his chest as he looks to the man in front of him.
"Why did you leave?"
Alec gestures to the room around him, avoiding his son's gaze. "I got called away. When you were born, I thought… I thought there might be a chance they'd let me stay. But the world had other plans."
"Did Mom know about any of this?"
"I couldn't tell her. Snow would have killed you all."
"But you picked me? Why me?"
"I couldn't have picked anyone else. You were born for this." A beat. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to meet you?"
"But why now? Why this way?"
"This was our best chance. We had to take it. Even if…"
"Even if you lost me."
"The chance was slim," Alec acknowledged. "Miniscule. But it was there."
Runar looks away. Was his life just a toy to his father? Surely there must have been another way for Alec to sneak Runar out of Five that didn't put the boy's life in peril. If he hadn't found the tree, or if another tribute had moved too quickly, Runar would have died in that Arena. No magic potions, no second chances, nothing. Another careless choice by the man who left his family alone.
And yet… Runar doesn't feel nearly as resentful as he expects. Alec could easily have selected a mission partner from the Capitol, one who was already trained, who'd be ready to go as soon as the moment struck. But he took what must have been a massive risk and chose Runar instead. Even after fifteen years, Alec hadn't forgotten his son, and put his whole mission on the line to find him again. How can Runar not feel special, wanted, loved?
He closes his eyes, thinking back to the long nights when his brain was too active to sleep. Runar would pad into his mother's room, asking her to rub his back and tell him stories about the father he never knew. Even at a young age, he could recognize the sadness in her words, but he'd always sensed something else, something deeper, a more positive emotion he could never quite place.
Now, Runar realizes it was hope.
His hands start to quiver as he shuffles forward, allowing his father to envelop him in a hug. And in that moment, all of his hesitation and worry melt away. The tears that have threatened to come all day finally spill over as Runar squeezes his father with the strength of fifteen years of hugs left ungiven. He can't find the words to say anything – and nothing needs to be said.
There will be plenty of time to write his own story. For now, all Runar needs is this moment of bliss.
Drying his hand on his shirt, Runar pulls out a worn notebook from his pocket and carefully turns to the first page. The words on it have faded, but he can still sense the nervous excitement of the boy who wrote them thirty-six years ago, on the day he left all he knew behind to dive into the unknown.
He could still remember the way that, even after two weeks of briefing, little Runar still had more questions than answers. Back then, Toritius had even admitted that they knew very little about Kazanato, and what they did know was cobbled together from information from before Runar was born. But little Runar didn't mind; in fact, he was even more excited. There was a mystery to be solved, one where he would have to work for even the smallest clues. This was the kind of thing he would never have had the chance to do back in Five. It's as if this job was made for him.
Little did that bright-eyed boy know just how much of an uphill battle he'd face. Runar knows that, even after thirty-six years living there, he barely scratched the surface of all there is to discover about Kazanato. He did all he could to fit in, to pretend to be one of Kazanato's own, but the nation and its citizens felt cold and imposing. It was as if they'd forced Runar into a glass box, able to interact with others but unable to travel much farther than his own four walls.
And yet, he couldn't say he minded all of the hours he spent trapped at home base. Because sometimes the greatest discoveries come when and where you least expect them – and even if he'd tried, Runar never would have guessed what he'd actually find.
"Now, remember, I have no idea what we're going to find when we get there," Alec says, watching as the rowboat paddles automatically through the ink-black ocean. "I know the hypothetical address of our contact, and I think they know we might show up – if not, I have a letter from Toritius explaining matters."
"Did we go over in briefings who our contact is?" Runar asks, opening a compartment in the side of the boat to pull out a notebook.
"We glossed over it briefly, but I'll tell you more now. Her name is Nishikawa Akiko, and her father – or maybe grandfather, one of the two – served as the host for our last operative. And do you remember what happened to him?"
"We lost contact in 82 ADD, around the same time as the Second Infiltration, which was why you had to leave Mom two years later. Our contact is presumed dead… but we're working under the assumption that the Nishikawas will not be?"
"Correct. The Underground verified at last contact that the Nishikawas were still in the same place."
"But that was months ago."
"Yes."
"Couldn't Toritius have asked before we left?"
"No, because Toritius had to be able to notify the Underground that we were leaving. Remember, the connection between the Capitol and the Underground really shouldn't be activated more than once every three months unless something drastic happens. Even this time, they were informed of President Snow's death when they were informed of us leaving."
"Why?"
"Because we have reason to believe that there are people who can hack into the technology we use for communications. The less we transmit, the better."
"Oh, right. That's why we're using the light-based transmitter."
"Precisely."
"But how do the Nishikawas maybe know we're coming?"
"It all depends on if the Underground was able to- "
"Dad, look!" Runar points over his father's shoulder, to a row of slowly growing pinpricks of light on the horizon line. "Is that…"
Alec glances over his shoulder. "I think so. Are you ready?"
"As ready as I can be."
"Then let's prepare to dock."
Without missing a beat, Alec and Runar snap into action. They spent an entire day training for this moment, to the point that each knows exactly what to do without exchanging so much as a glance. Alec presses a button on the side of the oars, disabling their autopilot function so he can maneuver the boat more smoothly toward their dock. Runar, meanwhile, begins to pack up the craft, slipping their belongings into compartments on the sides of the boat. Somehow, no matter how much he stuffs in, everything fits with room to spare, and the ship remains perfectly balanced. And somehow, no matter how quickly the boy moves, Alec is never in his son's way.
For a moment, Runar almost forgets that he's only truly known his father for less than a month. They work so well together that it feels as though they've been partners all their lives.
The dots of light grow ever bigger, ever closer; the shadows of massive ships and searchlight towers begin to form in Runar's view. Runar finishes his job by slipping his mother's manuscript into his pocket; then, he ducks down into the center of the boat, lying as flat as he can as his father drapes a metalens blanket over him. He breathes slowly, methodically, silently hoping that the cover of night is enough to keep his father safe.
It feels like an eternity before the air around him changes. No light penetrates his cover, but the darkness feels darker, denser – mustier? That's the word. It's like the air has absorbed not just the water but the scent of soaking wood. It takes every ounce of self-control the boy has to wait until he hears the loud metal clang of the lock before he flings off the blanket, giving Runar his first real look at Kazanato.
He shouldn't have been so disappointed. Runar knew that they would dock in an indoor marina – that fact had been drilled into his head during their mission practice – but he hadn't been able to picture what that meant. The barn of sorts that rises around him is airtight, not even a crack to be found between the wood planks; that fact is particularly impressive given that its walls seem to descend into the ocean. A few other boats bob innocently in the water, tied to the dock that runs all along the walls of the building. It's quaint, sure, and a nice enough place to land, but it doesn't have any of the grandeur and mystery that Runar was expecting from Kazanato. It's… almost puzzling.
"You good?"
"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine."
"Good. Let's go."
Runar clambers out of the boat and follows his father, who comes to a stop in front of an inconspicuous section of wall. "What are you looking for?"
"The entrance."
"But it's just a wall… ohh. Oh!" Runar drops his voice to a whisper. "Is the doorway hidden?"
"Exactly.
"Let me help look."
"My pleasure."
With newfound enthusiasm, Runar follows his father's lead, studying the wall for anything that looks out of place. Looking closely, he notices a symmetrical pattern of lines, one far too precise to be the natural result of staining. Gently, he presses down in the center of the pattern, rewarded for his efforts with a soft click. "Is this it?"
"Nice job, son," Alec says, reaching up to ruffle Runar's hair. "You're a natural."
A natural…
Closing the door behind him, Runar follows his father through an even mustier tunnel, illuminated by a single, dingy lightbulb. Runar can't help but shudder as he instinctively reaches for his father's hand. It's only when Alec squeezes it tightly that Runar realizes how nice it is to have his father's protection here. It was almost unsettling just how safe Runar felt with this person he'd barely met before, who'd betrayed his family and left them in the dust.
It's even weirder to Runar that he doesn't seem to care.
After a moment, they come to another door with the same pattern of lines. Alec raises his hand to knock, but before he can, a voice calls, "When I open the door, enter as fast as you can."
"Copy."
The door opens with a jerk, just wide enough for both to slip through. While the basement room into which he emerges isn't that bright, Runar still has to blink a few times before his eyes adjust to the light. He quickly takes in his surroundings before focusing on the woman who ushered them in. "You're lucky you got here today," she says, her accent one that Runar can't quite place. "We just heard from the Underground last night."
"I'm glad they managed to contact you at all. We were worried you'd lost connection."
"It's difficult, harder than it was even a few months ago for sure. But every now and then they get through."
"How big is the Underground now?"
"Not sure. We intentionally keep our distance as much as we can; it's safer for all of us." The woman is careful to keep her voice down, but she speaks with a strength and conviction that Runar thinks would make President Snow jealous. "Nishikawa Akiko," she says, offering her hand. "Akiko is my given name, and what you may call me; I know it is different where you come from."
"Alec Vacker. My son and mission partner, Runar Theron."
"Hello."
Akiko's brow furrows. "How old is he?"
"Fifteen. But we've already screened him."
"It exists in Panem?"
"It's older than anyone realizes. We think the false immunization in the lead up to the Second Infiltration was more of a top-off."
"That does not surprise me in the slightest. Runar," she pivots, "we're going to have you stay down here tonight. Your father and I have some business to take care of."
"Are you going to stage the shipwreck?" asks Runar.
"Precisely," Akiko replies, sounding impressed. "Your cot is there and there are some pajamas in that suitcase if you need. There's also a small restroom that you can get to by pushing on the wall between those two stacks of three crates."
"I assume the bathroom is also a safe room if I need it."
Aiko turns to Alec. "He's a sharp one," she marvels. "My Manami would not have put that much together with that little information."
"What can I say? He's my little sponge."
Runar puffs his chest out proudly, warm fuzzies filling every inch of his body. "I do my best. Who's Manami?"
As if on cue, the ceiling suddenly begins to shake with the sound of loud footsteps. "Woe is me! My own mother has forsaken me! However shall I fall asleep? Oh, the horror. Oh, the humanity!"
Akiko gestures vaguely skyward, pursing her lips. "My daughter. She knew this would take a while, which is why I said good night to her hours ago."
"Am I doomed to go to sleep without a hug, or even supper? Must my own mother be so neglectful?"
"She has in fact had dinner and dessert," Akiko clarifies, "and I gave her a hug before tucking her into bed. Evidently, she did not want to sleep."
"Unloved, uncared for, uncherished! Jail for mother for a thousand years!"
Akiko sighs loudly. "Do either of you mind if I let her down for a moment? I know we have much to do."
"Not at all," Alec says. Runar nods along; it's been ages since he's seen anyone near his age.
"Thank you. And my apologies."
Akiko reaches up towards the lightbulb and pulls a little string. Runar winces, bracing himself for darkness; instead, a section of the ceiling swings down, revealing the eager face of a girl no older than Runar. "Hi!" she chirps.
"Manami, this is Runar and Alec. Are you satisfied now?"
"I want to talk to them! Like for real!"
"There will be time for that tomorrow, or the next day, or at literally any other time that is not this hour of the night."
"It's not thaaaaat late," Manami groans, jumping down through the hole, barely avoiding her mother's feet in the process. "Come on, Mom! This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to me. And you said they'd get here like hours ago!"
"Manami."
"One question. Please?"
Akiko sighs. "Fine. One question. And then you need to go to bed so Alec and I can prepare this evening."
Manami nods eagerly, turning her attention to Alec and Runar. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, cocking her head. The girl opens and closes her mouth a few more times before looking sheepishly at her mother. "I forgot."
"That's because it's late, dear," Akiko says, reaching into a small space between the ceiling and the floor above to unfurl a rope ladder. "You got to meet them. Say goodnight and you can talk to them in the morning once they can come upstairs."
"Fiiine. Goodnight, I guess."
"Sleep well, Manami," Runar adds, waving shyly to her as she slowly – very slowly - ascends back to the upper floor.
As soon as Manami is safely on the upper level, Akiko reaches for another rope and pulls it, raising the fallen section of the ceiling back to its original position. "Alright. Let's get down to business. Alec, I'll meet you in the tunnel when you're ready?"
"Sounds good."
"Sleep well, Runar."
Runar doesn't even wait for Akiko to slip back through the door before enveloping his father in a tight hug. "Be careful, Daddy."
"I will, don't worry. But listen," insists Alec, pulling away from the hug to look his son in the eye. "You have good instincts. If anything happens, trust your gut, promise?"
"I promise."
"Good." Alec places a kiss on Runar's forehead. "I love you."
"Love you too."
With that, Alec follows Akiko into the darkness of the tunnel. And for the first time since launch, Runar is left alone.
He closes the door behind his father first, pressing his weight against it to ensure it's secured. Then, just to be safe, he carefully walks around the perimeter of the room, scanning for any cracks or signs of infiltration. Really, Runar has no idea what he's looking for, just that the thought of checking himself makes him feel safer; it's the best he can do to keep himself from feeling unsettled in this place, so far from anything familiar.
His first loop yields no results. But Runar cannot shake the feeling that there's something else there – or maybe someone. So his second time around, he walks even slower, stepping carefully to avoid the areas that creaked on his first loop. Sure enough, as he passes the parallel stacks of crates Akiko pointed out earlier, Runar swears he hears a little snicker.
Runar's mind whirrs into action as he scans the room, looking for anything he can possibly use as a weapon. But as the snicker turns into a giggle, Runar smiles, his shoulders instinctively relaxing. "Oh no," he half-whispers, creeping towards the wall. "Has someone gotten in through the safe room? Whatever will I do?"
The giggle grows louder as Runar presses on the wood, the panel swinging back to reveal a tiny room. There, perched on top of the toilet, Runar finds Nishikawa Manami, a massive grin plastered across her face.
(For a moment, Runar forgets to be surprised at the sight of her, or at the fact that she seems to be suspended in midair over the bowl. All he can focus on is the sparkle in her eyes.)
"Manami. How did you get in here?"
"There's a little window to get out of the safe room just in case. Technically you're not supposed to be able to get in through it but I do what I want."
"That's probably not a good idea if we ever actually need to use the safe room."
"It'll be fine. I block it with a boulder every time."
"You what?"
"Don't worry about it." She slips around Runar into the basement room. "Now that mom is gone we can hang out!"
"And what if she comes back and finds you here?"
"She won't. And if she does, she'll deal. Now," Manami insists, clambering up on one of the stacks of crates, "tell me about Panem."
"That's kinda vague. There's a lot I could tell you about Panem. What do you want to know?"
Manami pauses, as if the idea of being more specific had never once crossed her mind. "Uh… are there forests? Or trees?"
"Yeah, there are trees. Not all of us see them a lot though."
"Why not?"
"In Panem," he explains, taking a seat on the cot, "every area of the country is assigned a job. Your district's industry. So if you need trees, like Eleven which does agriculture or Seven which does lumber, there'll be a lot of trees. My district's industry was power, so we didn't have all that many. Some, but not a lot."
"Do you get to pick what district you live in?"
"No, it's just wherever you're born."
"Can you move?"
"Nope."
"So have you ever seen trees?"
Runar's heart skips a beat, blurry pinks and oranges and greens flashing across his memory. "I… I have, once. And there were a lot of them then. But… I don't know if I could really appreciate them when I saw them."
"Why not?"
The boy turns his gaze away from Manami; for once, Runar doesn't quite know how to answer. Between the Games and his home and his mother and his father and the Golden Dagger and the lies, there's just too much. Where can he even begin?
The energy in the room softens. Manami climbs down from the crates, taking a seat next to Runar, and places her hand on his thigh. "It's OK if you don't want to answer. I know I ask a lot of questions."
In spite of himself, Runar chuckles. "I do too. I'm not used to beingthe askee – is that a word?"
"I dunno. Why don't you ask me questions about Kazanato instead? We can maybe turn the tables again when you're ready."
"I like that idea," Runar replies, looking up once more. But as soon as their gazes meet, any questions he had fly out of his mind. All he can focus on is the comforting softness that somehow perfectly accentuates the sparkle in Manami's endless brown eyes. "Uh…" Runar fumbles, desperate for any way out of this. "Are there trees in Kazanato?"
Any last bit of tension left in the room disappears in an instant. Manami throws her head back, gorgeous peals of laughter echoing across the small space. "Touché, Runar," she giggles, unable to contain herself. "Yes, there are trees in Kazanato. Are you going to ask me if we have dirt next?"
And in spite of himself, in spite of his fear and uncertainty and every emotion that comes from being miles and miles away from everything he's known and loved, Runar smiles too. He smiles at the joy radiating from her eyes, at the way her cheeks scrunch up because she's smiling so brightly, at the way her hair ruffles behind her as her head shakes with laughter. For the first time in his life, all Runar can think about is one thing – and it's her.
If Runar could, he'd bottle this moment up and keep it forever.
With a soft smile, Runar flips through his notebook, barely able to read his own handwriting in the early morning light. He can only make out the occasional word or phrase, but that doesn't matter, not really; Runar's looked through this journal so many times that he knows exactly what's written on each page.
He's honestly impressed with his younger self. Even as a teenager, Runar managed to convey an impressive amount in very few words; it's clear how impactful every moment in this journal was to the boy who wrote it down. His writing is almost cinematic as it tells of his most important moments in Kazanato: his arrival, his first day of school, his wedding, his son's birth. But there are more mundane stories, too: his first trip to a Distribution Center, the first time he tried fish eyes… the first time his father brought him a souvenir from a mission.
As he flips through the notebook, he notices something flutter out from between the pages. He looks over, catching sight of the cherry blossom petal just as it lands on the boy curled up on the floor of the boat. It rises and falls as the child breathes, almost like a boat on an ocean of its own.
Runar reaches down, gently tussling his son's locks before picking up the petal and putting it back in the book for safekeeping. He'll only ever be grateful for the fact that his wife insisted that they have a child. Runar was scared of the prospect at first, the dangers of even existing in Kazanato eclipsing the benefits in his mind, but Manami allayed every doubt he had. It's like she's with him now, even though he's far away from her and all of their memories together.
His son and the petal – the last two tangible memories he has of Nishikawa Manami. For as long as he can, Runar wants to hold them tight, even though someday he knows he'll have to let at least one of them go.
"Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand. And close your eyes when I tell you, OK?"
"OK," Runar agrees eagerly. Who is he to argue with Manami? For years now, she's been the only connection Runar had to the outside world. After he and his father were "discovered" in the "shipwreck" that "stranded them in Kazanato", they'd been given permission to homeschool Runar, as he would be "unable to catch up with the academic rigor of Kazanato's school system." For the boy's safety, that turned into Runar staying home as much as possible, occasionally venturing out onto the docks by their house but rarely going further inland.
Runar understood – and understands, for that matter – why they wanted to keep him inside. If anything happened to Alec while he went scouting, keeping Runar as hidden as possible would ensure that Panem still had a link to Kazanato. Now that he's reached the age of graduation, his risk of capture decreases significantly; he'll never be out of the woods entirely due to his "dubious origin" status, but the simple fact that he can now touch grass is good enough for Runar.
And as much as he loves his father, there is nobody that Runar trusts more to show him the best parts of Kazanato than Nishikawa Manami.
So he allows himself to be dragged through the bustling streets, barely staying on the right side of the road as the two weave between people going to and from work or Distribution Centers or Recreation Areas. The sheer mass of people overwhelms Runar; not only are most citizens not allowed near the docks, but Runar was rarely allowed out during busy hours. Today might be the first time Runar's seen more than ten people in the same place since the staged shipwreck.
Fortunately, they don't stay on the main roads for long. Unfortunately, that means Runar has zero idea where Manami is going as she guides him through a veritable labyrinth of unfamiliar side streets. With every turn they make, the roads around them become less rigid and more roundabout. It quickly dawns on Runar that, if he didn't have Manami by his side, he would have no idea how to get back home.
They come to a stop in front of a line of apartment buildings that stretch at least ten stories up above the street. "OK. Now close your eyes."
"Here? But there's nothing…"
"Just trust me, OK? What's the worst that could happen."
"I trust you!" he exclaims, shutting his eyes tightly. "I promise."
"I know," Manami replies, her voice even more mischievous than normal as she fastens something around Runar's face. "Now don't let go of my hand."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Mercifully, she chooses this time to walk instead of run, though their path is just as winding. Runar can make out the opening and closing of doors, the shuffling of their feet on creaky floorboards, but he can't figure out when (or if) they move from outside to inside – and maybe back again? No matter what he tries, there's nothing Runar can do about the fact Manami has succeeded in entirely confusing him.
And somehow, the boy who wants an answer to every question doesn't mind.
Eventually, they come to a stop. Runar inhales deeply, the light breeze blowing a sweet scent right to him. He feels something land on his hair, but before he can raise a hand to brush it off, Manami whips off whatever was covering Runar's face. "Open your eyes! Isn't this, like, the prettiest thing you've ever seen?"
It's half a second before he finally blinks them open. Immediately, he closes them again, the sun's light all too bright; it takes a few moments before he can finally make out the landscape in front of him. And once he does, he freezes, instinct and emotion intertwining to the point that he can't figure out which to listen to.
She's brought him to a grove of cherry trees.
His instinct is to run, to get as far away as he can from here. The birds are coming, they'll be here any moment, and once they do, he'll lose her – lose himself forever. And yet something inside of Runar draws him closer to the trees, entranced by the sunrays' golden dance on the pink petals. He doesn't feel panicky or angry or scared; instead, he's brought back to the moment of inner peace he felt as he watched the cherry blossoms float down around him, seconds before he died.
He may still be alive now. But that moment marked the death of everything he ever knew – a loss Runar's never taken the time to mourn.
"Runar? Are you ok?"
"Huh?"
Manami reaches over and delicately wipes a tear off of Runar's cheek. "You're crying."
"Oh."
Runar walks forward as if in a trance, his hand trembling as it reaches the blossoms. Yet as soon as he brushes up against one, phantom pain shoots through his arm. Cradling his wrist against his chest, he stumbles backward, ramming into another tree. Petals rain down around him as Runar sinks to the ground, tears flowing freely now.
But Manami is there. She sits down beside him, reaching around his back to place a firm yet gentle hand on his shoulder. Runar lets himself relax as she squeezes him tightly; his breathing slows, the pain subsides, his trembling hand calms down.
"Do you want to talk?"
"I…"
The first time she asked that question, he wasn't sure he was ready to open up to her. She was new and intense and more herself than any other person he'd ever met. But Runar's learned that if there's anyone here who might sort of understand all he's been through – or at least be willing to try – it's Manami. Problem is, there's so much he doesn't even know how to explain. How do you describe the Hunger Games to someone who knows basically shit-all about Panem, much less a Quarter Quell, much less this Quell? And somehow, that might be the easiest part to explain…
"I don't even know where to begin," Runar murmurs.
"I understand."
Manami releases her grip, leaning her head on his shoulder as she begins to gently rub his arm. Their breaths sync up as they sit together, letting the peace of the cherry trees wash over them. Runar can feel all of his inhibitions wash away; in this place, with this girl, he feels the closest he ever has to serene.
Somehow, the silence lingers even as Manami begins to talk.
"My father left before I was born."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Well, maybe it was after. I don't remember and honestly, I don't know if I care."
"Did your mom know?"
"She did, actually. Mom said that the night before he left, he told her what he was going to do and insisted that she come, that there was no way she'd survive if she stayed put. But Mom didn't want to leave. Her father had lived in our house working as a premier shipwright, and his parents before that, and their parents, going all the way back as far as anyone here can remember. If she left, she'd be leaving her entire family history behind. So she stayed. And then she had me.
"There were definitely perks to growing up a Nishikawa. A lot of the rules that governed the rest of Kazanato didn't apply to us because we had permission to live out on the docks. So our family was not placed with another family in our residential unit, Mom wasn't encouraged or even expected to remarry or have a second child, and we were allowed out past curfew if we had to be. Though sometimes I'd run out along the docks past curfew even if we didn't have to, because we were friendly with the guards and sailors who lived in the barracks down the way. It was nice living in an area where I could almost have a little freedom.
"But this is Kazanato. Freedom doesn't last long here; if the powers that be see that you have it, they look for any chance they can get to take it away. So even though my family has had homeschool dispensation for years to learn the tricks of the trade, the government insisted that I go to school. And school fucking sucked. Everyone had to wear a uniform and everything was in nice neat rows and lines and even when we were only six or seven there was no time to play together. I didn't get how my friends didn't seem to mind the fact that we were just treated like robots, not even people."
"Did you get to play outside of school?" Runar asked.
"Sometimes. Problem was, citizens aren't allowed near the docks, so they couldn't come to my house. Though as far as I know, citizens also aren't allowed to enter each other's dwellings, so I probably couldn't have gone over to a friend's. And Mom didn't always have the time to take me to a Recreation Area. So sometimes I'd play by myself but I never really made friends. Maybe it would have been better if I had a sibling or if we'd been paired with another family. But now I have you!"
Runar ducks his head away, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "That's very kind of you to say," he mutters quickly.
"Nerd," Manami replies, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.
"Hey!"
"Seriously, Runar, you've been such a good influence on me. Things here feel really stifling most of the time because all the government wants to do is control us. They give us all these fake choices, like saying you can pick any color shirt you want from the Distribution Center but I bet they carefully pick what colors go where because ours never has red. And it starts from the moment we're born, too, because our parents have to stick to names on the approved names list. It's like they think that if everyone has the same life then nobody will complain. But I don't want to have the same life as everyone else. I want to be my own person, make society more open and free, change the illusion of choice into the real chance to be whoever you want to be. I want to break shit open, blow something up if that's what needs to happen so people can just live."
"Manami," Runar hisses, "what if they hear you?"
"We're here because there are no cameras. It's fine." She pauses, takes a breath, and continues, "It was meeting you and hearing about all of the things you got to do that made me realize just how rigid shit is here. You've gotten to do so much in life already, and I guess I wanna do the same. I want to make a difference here somehow. A big, earth shattering difference. Even if I don't know how yet."
Runar turns to her, noticing a softness – wistfulness, perhaps, or yearning – in her dark eyes. Instinctively, he shifts to bring his arm around her shoulder; it occurs to Runar that, for once, their roles have been reversed.
If she is vulnerable here, he is safe. And if he is safe…
The dam breaks.
"My father left us too," he starts, words flowing from his mouth like a rushing waterfall. His words are imprecise and jumbled together, imperfect explanations of things that Manami will never experience, but somehow he knows that she understands. And it's nice, oh, it's so nice to have someone who hears him. There's something about the way that Manami nods her head with every word, the way that her eyes and hands do not leave his that makes Runar feel safe and cared for in a way that he never has before.
It's why, when he finishes, he doesn't flinch as she leans closer. It's why he doesn't worry as she closes her eyes – it's why he follows suit.
And when they kiss, cherry blossoms falling around them like snow, he swears he can feel sparks fly.
Runar allows himself one more moment to clutch the petal close to his chest, taking in whatever remnant of a scent lingers on it, before pressing it into the journal once more. The last thing he needs is to lose it now; if it flutters away on the wind or floats away into the depths of the ocean, he'll have no way to get another.
Though, to be fair, that's what he always said about Panem. When he left his home so long ago, Runar never thought he'd come back; to a large extent, he'd hoped not. He'd longed for his motherland's familiar embrace, sure, but the only circumstance in which Runar was to come back to Panem was if it got too dangerous to stay in Kazanato – or if something forced him out.
And that's the piece that concerns Runar. From what he's learned about Kazanato, he's figured out that the government is far more concerned with internal affairs than external ones. Fragments of information about what Runar could only assume were other nations filtered into his consciousness, but never in a way that indicated that the government cared. No, no matter how crazy the rumors were, Kazanato's government only ever seemed to discuss the actions of one other country.
Runar hadn't yet figured out why that country was – is – Panem. Nor has he figured out why Kazanato's concern with Panem is more of an obsession. Any time Runar got fragments of information from the Underground, which were sparser and farther between by the week, some sort of policy change in the navy would follow.
At least, that's what happened most of the time. The events of the last few weeks were triggered by something that not even the Underground had caught wind of yet, and most of the decisions Runar and his family made were ones entirely unrelated to the Underground's intel in the first place. For the first time, Runar had to make all of his choices based on his gut instincts.
And somehow, by some stroke of luck, Runar's instinct steered him right every time.
From the moment he wakes up, Runar's gut insists that something is wrong.
He doesn't waste a minute – he can't. Runar slips out of bed and across the room, sliding on a pair of headphones attached to a box-like machine. He expects to hear the soft ping that indicates that the connection he's tracking is up and running; instead, a wave of static crashes into the room, prompting Runar to immediately throw the headphones off.
As his heartbeat slowly returns to its original pace, Runar's brow furrows. Turning down the volume, he scans the array of buttons and dials, looking for anything that might have shifted or gotten stuck overnight, but everything looks normal. Slipping the headphones on again, he tweaks a couple of knobs, hoping to hear something, but all that comes through is static.
He's entirely lost the signal.
"Sweetie?" comes the voice from his bed. "Is everything alright?"
"I'm not sure," he replies, turning over his shoulder to find Manami's eager eyes blinking back at him, just as bright as they were when they first met. He knows the question she'll ask before she even says it. "Do you want to talk about it?" they chorus, breaking into giggles like they used to long ago.
Runar hops up onto the bed next to Manami. "Have I ever told you what this thing does?"
"I think so, but if you did, you should tell me again."
He grins. "This is called a frequency scanner, or a frequency detector. It can be used for wiretapping, but I don't for two reasons. First of all, we're pretty sure the Kazanatan Intelligence forces can tell when one of their radio frequencies is being tapped into, given that doing so has nearly killed an Underground member more than once. Secondly, even if you want to be brazen enough to wiretap, there's some sort of security measure on them that prevents anyone from actually accessing the signal. No amount of information that we could get from wiretapping is worth that level of effort or risk.
"Instead, we use these scanners to detect which intelligence frequencies are in use, and where they're coming from. A while ago, I detected a signal coming from Panem to Kazanato on this machine; it's the only international signal we've found. We were worried we'd lose it if we switched off of it, so I've been monitoring it since. And it hasn't broken off once."
"Until today."
"Until today," Runar echoes.
"So what happens now?" Manami asks after a moment. "Like, what does this mean?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I think it will depend on how long it takes before the signal is restored. Like, if it's just a power outage, the signal should be back soon and everything will be OK. There's a chance it's a planned relocation of some sort, but I don't think that would take all that long, especially because there's no way they'd pull their contact out of Panem's Capitol. It would be a poor tactical decision in my opinion. But if we don't have signal by this afternoon, maybe tomorrow, I'd assume the worst."
"Why?"
"If a Kazanatan spy goes without contact for a month, the intelligence forces here pronounce them dead. Depending on the circumstances and the relationship with the other country, the government has been known to retaliate. And if there's one country I am sure they will retaliate against…"
"It's Panem," Manami chimes in.
"Precisely. And even if we do hear from their spy in Panem within the month, my guess is that whatever caused their signal to break off is something that Kazanato will blame on Panem, which will also lead to retaliation. So either way…"
Manami places a gentle hand on Runar's. "Unless we can find something to do about it."
"Well, we can't warn Panem in any sort of specific manner. The Underground just had contact with them last month – and even then, I don't know if it would be safe to hold the connection long enough to explain."
"What about your light-based transmitter?"
"I could switch to orange, that's true, but all that will tell the new president is that we have reason to be concerned and that they should be ready for action. There's no way to give them any more details."
"What if you went back?"
"I can't leave Peregrine behind," Runar asserts. "I won't do that to him."
"What if we all went back?"
He thinks for a moment. "If we all leave and nothing happens, Panem has no boots on the ground; nobody from the Underground could safely come up. If we don't leave and something does happen, there is absolutely no way anybody is getting out of the harbor and you know that. They'll lock the border immediately."
"We could blow up the navy."
"Manami, you've been suggesting that for years," Runar chuckles. But as he meets Manami's gaze, he quickly realizes that, though her eyes still sparkle, this is the most serious he's ever seen her. "You're not actually suggesting we blow up the navy," he deadpans.
"Think about it. If the government is concerned, they'll begin the pre-mobilization process this week, which means they'll call me in to check every ship. It would be easy enough to plant something in the process. And then I can set the bombs off when you're ready to go, which would also make it really hard for Kazanato's forces to make it to Panem in the first place."
"Back up. What do you mean when you're ready to go?"
"I can't activate the explosives if I'm too far away."
It takes a beat for her words to sink in. "No," Runar whispers, grasping for any way to talk her out of her idea, though he knows nothing will work. "Manami, it'd be suicide."
"I know."
"What about Peregrine?"
"He'd go with you. If Kazanato really does attack Panem, he might not be safe here either."
"But…"
"But nothing. This is my chance, Runar." She squeezes his hand tightly. "Maybe this is the way I can make a change here, and if I can't, Panem might be able to. And if it means keeping you and Peregrine safe too, then there's no other option."
"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that and that this all ends up being a big misunderstanding," Runar murmurs hollowly, reaching for the light-based transmitter. "Then maybe things can go back to normal."
Runar's life has never been normal, not since he was Reaped thirty-six years ago. And there's no use in pretending he wants to go back to life before then; as challenging as things have been for him since that fateful day, he wouldn't trade the adventures he's had for anything. Perhaps what he truly hopes for is a place – a person – that he doesn't have to leave. But as he turns the light on his transmitter from yellow to orange, Runar feels the warmth of hope fade out of his chest.
Unless things change dramatically, there will be no choice but to go back. Nothing Runar does will change that fact.
So he and Manami begin to plan. They talk late into the night in darkened rooms, careful not to wake their son or draw any attention from patrolling officers. Together, they draft outline after outline, plan after plan, reviewing everything meticulously and tirelessly to try to find every possible loophole or hold-up. As soon as the sun rises, they split up; Runar remains at home to monitor the frequency scanner - and the navy at that - while Manami sneaks to a different far-off corner of the island every day to develop a prototype explosive. If they're lucky, they sneak in a few hours of sleep in the afternoon, back to work by dusk without fail.
Through sheer willpower, the two keep up a relentless pace for two weeks. They're exhausted, barely able to keep it together in front of their son. But every time Runar looks at Peregrine, he sees a mirror of his childhood self, the same curious expression in the boy's eyes. It only motivates Runar to work harder to keep his mask up; the less Peregrine knows, the safer he'll be.
Nothing he does can hide the fact that Peregrine barely sees his mother for a fortnight.
At the beginning of the third week, their home is visited by an executive from the navy. Just as she predicted, he requests Manami's services in inspecting every ship in their fleet, promising her handsome compensation provided that she keep the nature of her work secret. Knowing her skillset – and knowing that the navy will not set sail until her work is complete – Manami accepts, under a series of conditions:
First, she will only work at night.
"The flashlights I use to find holes in the siding will identify those holes better at night. And besides, the cover of darkness is the best way to keep things on the down low."
Second, she will work on one ship at a time.
"These ships have not been inspected by my family in at least three decades. I need to take my time on each ship to ensure that I properly inspect every feature, and so that I can use the daytime to build or acquire the parts I need to fix them."
And third, nobody else may be on board as she works.
"This is the biggest project I've ever done. I need absolute quiet so I can focus on my work and complete it in a timely manner. Plus, if anybody is on board, they may impede me from reaching important areas or conducting certain tests regarding the ship's ability to bear weight."
She expects her demands to be met with resistance at best, or outright rejected at worst. But to her surprise, the officer accepts without hesitation, instructing Manami to report to Naval Command at 21:00 – not a moment earlier, and not a moment later. Manami obliges; she opens the door to Naval Command at exactly nine o'clock, finding herself in the midst of a whirlwind of paperwork and frantic typing. Nobody explicitly explains to Manami the source of the palpable panic, but she doesn't need them to; she knew what was happening the moment the naval officer knocked on her door.
Pre-mobilization has begun.
If the two weeks of planning were difficult for Runar and Manami, the first two weeks of pre-mobilization are unquestionably worse. Manami is almost never home, only able to communicate with Runar via notes taped to the inside of their mailbox or slipped under their bedroom door. Runar does his best to support his wife, but there's not much he can do; if he involves himself too greatly now, it could entirely blow their cover.
Instead, he redoubles his own efforts. He keeps track of every shipment of provisions stored in a warehouse under cover of night, every soldier who suddenly wears a brand-new uniform. He records which government officials stop by Naval Command and when they leave, keeping track of patterns in their attendance. He even sleeps with the frequency scanner's headphones on, just in case something pokes through. With every day that passes, Runar finds himself growing more and more anxious; he and Manami are running out of time before the contact is pronounced dead.
Until one day, Runar hears a faint pinging noise poke through the static.
Is that… Misty's signal?
All of the preparations grind to a halt. Shipments stop coming, government officials stop visiting, Manami's inspections are even put on hold. It's as if the entire country is holding its breath for whatever word they'll receive from across the ocean. The eerie calm is unsettling to Runar; even as Manami relaxes for the first time in a month, he keeps working, spending every waking hour next to the frequency scanner, waiting for the moment when the signal will stabilize.
"I want to make sure that we have as much time as possible to prepare once the contact reestablishes the signal," he explains, anxiously twirling the headphones' wires around his fingers. "It should take two weeks for them to break through the security barriers, but given the circumstances, they might allow the contact to reconnect early."
"Runar, don't worry about that," Manami replies, a familiar twinkle in her eye. "I have exactly fourteen ships left to check, just like we planned. And I think I've taken long enough that doing one a night for two weeks won't seem unreasonable."
"You're sure they won't leave before you finish inspecting them?"
"This is the longest journey most of these ships will take in their entire careers. If the navy really wants to go all the way across the ocean, they're not going to take any chances. Trust me."
And Runar does.
It feels like an eternity passes before the static finally cuts out. But Runar doesn't quite feel relieved to hear the repeated pings; each one only intensifies the pit of dread he feels growing in his stomach. Whatever that contact says to the intelligence forces will have huge ripple effects on everyone and everything Runar has ever loved. Even worse, he cannot do anything to stop whatever tidal wave is about to crash on the shore.
And crash it does. Less than twelve hours after the signal stabilizes, pre-mobilization turns into full-blown preparation for deployment.
With a heavy heart, Runar immediately turns the light on his transmitter to red.
When he thought about this moment in the first weeks after the signal broke off, Runar expected to be fully panicking as he scrambled to assemble everything he and Peregrine might need for the journey ahead. But his and Manami's strongest plan is the one for these two weeks; they've reviewed and revised it more than any other. Runar almost doesn't have to think about anything he does, allowing him to keep an eye on both the frequency scanner and the outside world as he packs a month and a half's worth of provisions into the boat that brought him to Kazanato thirty-six years prior.
His biggest task, however, is briefing Peregrine. The boy catches a very bad cold, forcing Runar to keep him home from school and inside the house for two whole weeks. Yet Runar waits until a week before D-Day to let his son in on the secrets that he and Manami have been keeping for years. He expects the typically timid ten-year-old to be overwhelmed at best; Runar remembers just how strange it felt to discover just how much had been kept from him over the years. But Peregrine is unfazed, asking questions just as frequently and taking notes just as intensely as Runar himself did thirty-six years prior. And Runar's chest can't help but swell with pride; he feels closer to his father than he has in a long while.
The morning before he leaves, Runar retrieves a tattered manuscript from under his mattress and flips through it, the first time he's been able to read his mother's familiar handwriting in at least two months. For a moment, he allows himself to become the boy in the goodbye room, shaking and crying and scared for his life. He imagines his mother's arms wrapped tightly around his body, his brother's voice insisting that he can make it out if he just stays strong.
Matthias was right, it turned out: strength was what got Runar to Kazanato in the first place. Today, he needs to be even stronger – strong for himself and strong for Peregrine.
Runar clutches the manuscript close to his chest, then slides it, along with his journal, into his pocket. He'll have plenty of time to read it once he and Peregrine make it out.
They have dinner early that night, so all three can be together for one final time. Manami does her best to keep the mood light, but there's little she can do to dissipate the fog of sadness and fear that hangs over the dinner table. No amount of casual conversation can distract from the danger that awaits them that night, from the fact that, in a best-case scenario, only two of them will make it to morning.
And yet, as dark as this moment feels, Runar doesn't want it to end. He'd rather see Manami's light dimmed than lose sight of it altogether. But he can only push things off for so long. If he was the one who lost them the chance to get Peregrine to safety, Runar would never forgive himself.
So with a heavy heart, he follows his family down to the basement. Runar inches the door that leads to the marina open as Peregrine hugs Manami tightly, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'll be right there with you, Peregrine. Maybe not in person, but right in here," she murmurs, placing her hand on Peregrine's heart. "Now, go be brave like I know you can be. I love you all the way to Panem."
"I love you all the way to Panem and back," Peregrine echoes. Before he can think twice, he tears himself away from his mother, dashing into the darkness of the tunnel towards the marina.
And Runar and Manami are left alone.
"It's fitting we wound up back here," she says, avoiding her husband's gaze. "Where this all began."
"Did you remember to remove the boulder?"
"I did, don't worry. And the remote is stashed in the right place. I'll be able to get to the ship in no time."
"Good."
There's nothing else to be said now. Runar rests his forehead on Manami's, closing his eyes as he pulls her closer. He hears her heartbeat slowly synchronize with his, two becoming one for the last time.
"Do you think our parents would be proud of us if they were still here?" she asks softly.
"I think so. I hope so. We're doing what's right. Aren't we?"
"Only one way to find out."
She pulls him in for a kiss, one just as passionate and intense as the first they shared all those years ago. "I love you. So much."
"I love you too."
They hold hands as they walk towards the opening between two parallel stacks of three crates. Runar opens the door and ushers Manami through, watching as she climbs onto the toilet and up the wall. As she pushes the window open, Manami looks back towards him, and Runar swears he sees a single tear fall down her cheek.
It's the only time he's ever seen her cry.
His eyes remain glued to her until she's out of sight, swallowed entirely by the darkness. He swallows hard, takes a deep breath, then turns and rushes into the tunnel.
Runar still has a job to do tonight. He can mourn Manami once he and his son are safe.
When he reaches the boat, Runar snaps into action. Together, he and Peregrine check the ship's contents one final time, making sure that they have everything they absolutely need for the journey ahead; Runar takes the extra step of confirming that his transmitter, his journal, and his mother's manuscript are all on board. Once everything is secure, Runar drapes a metalens cloak over Peregrine, then begins to maneuver the boat out of the marina.
Runar is not the best sailor; this was one skill he's never had a chance to practice. Thankfully, the boat is small, but it still takes every ounce of Runar's focus to maneuver it to the designated holding spot. As the boat comes to a stop, Runar pulls a flashlight out from under his seat and points it towards the navy's shipyard, flashing a message twice.
Two short pulses of light, one long, one short. A pause. Two long.
His eyes remain glued to the shipyard as he begins to count, the flashlight falling innocently to the deck as he grabs hold of the oars. Manami's signal is supposed to come after sixty seconds, but she was somewhat vague about what that signal is supposed to be, and the last thing he needs is to miss it.
At fifty-nine seconds, he hears a crackling sound. At sixty-one seconds, he realizes that there is absolutely no chance that he would have missed the signal.
At sixty seconds, the entire Kazanatan naval fleet goes up in flames.
The adrenaline kicks in; Runar rows faster than he ever thought he could. Seaspray splashes on him from both sides, the wind whipping through his hair, but he doesn't pay any of it any mind. All Runar can think about is getting as far away as he can, as quickly as he can. The quicker he can get Peregrine away from the fire, away from Kazanato, the safer the boy will be.
Only once the fireball is reduced to a pinprick of light in the distance – once he's sure that Peregrine is safe – does Runar allow himself to cry.
The creaking of the boat releases Runar from his thoughts. He hastily wipes his face dry as he brings his focus to the boy laying on the floor of the craft. Peregrine slowly rolls over onto his back, stretching out like a starfish to occupy all available space. "Good morning, Peregrine."
"Morning, Daddy," Peregrine replies, arching his back like a cat. "Are we there yet?"
"Not yet, but soon. Probably today."
"Good. I'm getting tired of this boat."
"Me too," Runar chuckles. "Think about it. A roof over our heads? A real shower, not just soap and ocean water? It's going to be so nice."
"I forgot what it was like to not see the sun. I'm glad we brought an umbrella at least."
"And sunscreen," Runar reminds him.
"But I won't have to wear it anymore when we get to Panem! Never never never."
"That's not how that works, Peregrine."
"Darn it."
The boy snuggles up against his father's side, bringing a smile to his father's face. Peregrine's been much cuddlier since they left Kazanato, just one of the many things that have changed him in the last few weeks. Here, alone with his father, he's more talkative, sillier, a lot more relaxed. It's as if now that he's out of the stifling environment of Kazanato, he finally has the chance to breathe, to be the kid that's always been buried deep inside. Now, Peregrine can finally be free.
Not every day has been perfect, of course. Without Manami there to soothe him, Peregrine has spent multiple nights crying himself to sleep, and he sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming about a fire that doesn't exist. Runar knows that these nightmares won't disappear for a long time. But even as difficult as some moments are, Peregrine is already doing so much better than he was even before they left, and every day seems to be better than the last as Peregrine adjusts to his new normal. Runar has no doubt that, against all odds, Panem is where his son will thrive.
As always, Manami was right.
"Do you want to go over the plan for when we land?" Runar asks, brushing Peregrine's hair out of his face. "I can't remember the last time we talked about it."
"I think I remember most of it. We're hoping that Panem has someone waiting for us on the shores of District… Seven?"
"Correct."
"We have to be careful when we come in because we don't want too many people to notice us, even though we don't think anyone will be out this far in the ocean. When we get there, there's a place where we're gonna be able to stay for a few weeks to adjust, and then we'll go to the Capitol. And when we get there, you're gonna have a new name. Finley Moriarty! Because Runar died so you have to keep yourself a secret. But I can still be Peregrine since nobody knows who I am."
"Very good! You remembered a lot of it."
"I wrote it down!" Peregrine excitedly pulls out of his pocket a little notebook, flipping through the pages for his father to see. "Just like you."
"Just like me," Runar echoes, looking into a face that's nearly the spitting image of his own. The only difference are his eyes, dark and sparkling and endless like his mother's. A tear spills out of his eye before he can stop it. Runar quickly turns away - he has to be strong for Peregrine, he can't let the boy see him cry - but he knows it's too late.
Peregrine is his son, after all.
But the boy says nothing. Instead, he simply places a comforting hand on his father's leg, resting his head in the crook of his father's neck. Together, they sit, watching the ripples of the ocean rock the boat to and fro.
Eventually, it's Runar who breaks the silence. "Have I told you how proud I am of you? This is a lot for anyone to deal with, and you're doing so well."
"It's like a big adventure!" Peregrine exclaims. "It's scary, but all adventures are. Now I can practice being brave. Just like Mom."
"She'd be so proud of you too."
"I miss her."
"I know. Me too."
"I know."
Suddenly, the boy's face lights up. "Dad!" Peregrine exclaims, pointing over Runar's shoulder to something in the distance. "Look! Over there! Is that…"
Runar glances over his shoulder, quickly whipping around as he processes the patches of green and beige quickly approaching. "I think it is."
It occurs to Runar that this may be the last moment where he can rely on someone else's decisions. When he left Panem, everything was laid out for Runar; he knew exactly what he needed to do every step of the way, even going into his first months in Kazanato. As he prepared to leave Kazanato, he relied on Manami's guidance, following her lead even as they worked together. But as soon as this boat reaches the shore, Runar will be alone at the helm, wholly in charge of his and Peregrine's destiny – and, it seems, the destiny of Panem.
The thought of this much responsibility is terrifying; the prospect of bearing it alone is even worse. For a moment, Runar wonders what will happen to Peregrine if the weight of the burden crushes him. But as he dries his clammy hands on his pants, his hands brush against the contents of his pockets, his journal on one side and his mother's manuscript on the other.
And in that moment, Runar realizes he's not truly alone. He carries with him all the love and support and advice that his mother and father and wife gave him throughout his whole life. As long as he keeps them close to his heart, Runar knows that he's up to the challenge.
He has all the tools he needs to make the right choices. The time has come for Finley Moriarty to lead.
"Alright, just like we talked about. Are you ready?"
"One hundred percent."
"Let's do this."
Together, father and son snap into action. Peregrine works to pack up their boat, slipping their belongings into compartments on its sides. Somehow, no matter how much he stuffs in, everything fits with room to spare, and the ship remains perfectly balanced. Runar, meanwhile, turns off autopilot mode on the boat; he doesn't know what exactly will await him as he approaches the shore, but he needs to be able to maneuver the craft safely into whatever landing spot he can find. There is no conveniently placed indoor marina waiting for him here.
Really, there doesn't seem to be anything waiting for him here. As he sails, Runar keeps a sharp eye out for any other ships that may raise alarm at their presence, but the coastline is surprisingly empty. It's not until they're just meters out from shore that his eyes land on a figure emerging from the trees. A moment later, another, smaller figure pops out, darting right out to the edge of the ocean before pausing and running back. "Dad, do you see that?" Peregrine asks, his finger appearing in the corner of Runar's vision.
"I do," Runar replies. "And I think they're waiting for us."
He doesn't have much energy left; the last three months have taken a lot out of him. But Runar digs as deep as he can and finds just enough force to steer the ship all the way to the beach. It's only once the boat and the oars get stuck in the sand that Runar finally breathes a sigh of relief.
As much as he never thought it was possible, he's been waiting for this day for thirty-six years. His life since then has taken him places that he never imagined could be real, given him experiences that he'd never dreamed of. And as sad and hard and confusing as this road has been for Runar Theron, he'll only ever be grateful that it's somehow guided him back to the start.
Runar looks out at the trees, at a place so unfamiliar yet so comforting at the same time. There's no telling what awaits beyond the forest, out in the Capitol, in the weeks and months and years that lie ahead. But Runar can take this moment to be proud of everything he's done to make it back here.
"Dad?" Peregrine asks, pulling on his father's sleeve. "Did we do it?"
"We did, Perry," Runar replies, grasping his son's small hands in his own.
"We finally made it home."
Yes I really did make you wait over 13k for a tribute list. No I do not regret it because GOD I HAVE BEEN KEEPING THIS SECRET FOR LIKE A YEAR AND A HALF NOW. Literally February of 2021 I said to Phobie "what if I don't kill Runar" and now he's here. I would say that this was my best kept secret but I think too many people knew for it to be best kept.
INCLUDING MEEEE i love it when i'm so irresistible that people cannot help but let my children live and then tell me about it months in advance. hello bb runar ur not 15 anymore
No he's not! He's literally 51 by the end of the epilogue id say i intentionally made it so the ages flipped but really you can thank younger goldie for that one. And yes. I did tell laney. As justification I will say that it is very hard to keep a secret for a year and a half and i made it a full year from when i came up with the idea to when i told her so really that's not bad!
true! tho u did tell me very shortly after i submitted him that he was going to die so there's also that
Yeah… my bad.
OK a few thank yous here. First of all, Laney - I knew i loved your son but writing him for like a novel's worth of words has just made me adore him even more. I'm so glad you didn't give him a dad so i could build my whole subplot around him.
pro tip: apparently if u give ur children questionable parentage it can turn into subplot somehow
A thank you also goes to rb who put up with so much as i was writing this chapter, helping me every time i was stuck and receiving probably 60% of this in snippets as time went on, I really couldn't have done this without her.
OK! List? List!
List! Let's goooooooooo~
Thank you all so much for your subs to NGDGU! I got 29 subs, of which I chose to take 26, even though that does leave one district open. The list appears after the line break, and it'll go on Discord and my profile asap. Please be careful to check all of the districts, as I shuffled some kids around for sake of district partnerships! Intros will be starting with D13, descending through the odd districts; the Capitol will go in the middle and then I'm thinking rn I'll ascend up the even districts to end with 12 but i may change my mind. Thank you all for your support and I can't wait to get things really started!
Xoxo, xxxi
The Tributes of the 136th Hunger Games
Capitol
◈ Aris Caepio (18, he/him) - KxngOli
◈ Luvenia von Sauvegard (17, they/she) - FlawlessCatastrophe /ladyqueerfoot
District One
◈ Beau Beryll (18, he/him) - Son of Arryn/BeeBoo15
◈ Declan Dupont (18, he/him) - Avery-writes-stuff
District Two
◈ Esau Alkmene (18, he/him) - geologyisms
◈ Catius Zenossos (18, he/they) - darthnell
District Three
◈ Briony Laverne (15, she/her) - AuroraMiri25
◈ Wesley Imerell (17, he/him) - dyloccupy
District Four
◈ Amaya van Amsel (18, she/her) - mykindleisawesome
◈ Maren Valera (18, she/her) - Alice Kingsleighs
District Five
◈ Poe Saint Helens (15, she/her) - Human Wiki
◈ Taos Vieria (17, he/him) - TyQuavis
District Six
◈ Jasper Mercator (16, he/him) - GalacticFd
◈ Poppet McLaren-Wheeler (13, she/her) - lancelotgriffin
District Seven
◈ Lotte Everest (17, she/her) - Platrium
◈ Hestia Fiore (18, she/her) - rising-balloons
District Eight
◈ Riona Bahane (17, she/her) - Ace-0f-Sw0rds
◈ Sky Zermatte Murasaki (he/they, 14) - Platrium
District Ten
◈ Zeryn Alliston (18, she/her) - itzbirdie
◈ Yonah Howard (15, she/her) - Team Shadow
District Eleven
◈ Cenric Chai (16, he/him) - timesphobic
◈ Eila Merel (17, she/her) - District11-Olive
District Twelve
◈ Iris Brager (16, she/her) - VeneratedArt
◈ Rio de Verano (17, he/him) - Nautics
District Thirteen
◈ Ryonsuke Rai-Rueter (18, he/him) - TheWatcheroftheVoid
◈ Vishanti Skada (18, he/him) - ladyqueerfoot