Nezumi didn't sleep. He changed his clothes and spent the next six hours in bed staring at the ceiling. This was a common way his nights went since he became a victor, but tonight his mental purgatory was deeper and darker than any night before.

Why now?

Why was Fox putting Shion in his path now? They only met once and Shion had been arrested that very night. That meant Shion had been an Avox for almost a full year. Why didn't Fox show him to me on the Victory tour or at the ball last December?

Perhaps the President wanted to remind him not to make another mistake in the Games. Or to ensure he didn't give this year's tributes any deviant ideas. Last year Nezumi knew Fox and the Capitol's eyes were constantly on him. After the warning Fox gave him at the Banquet, Nezumi didn't stray from what was expected during the Victory Tour.

But now that the Capitol was distracted again with a new Game and fresh tributes, some of the pressure eased off. The new tributes were unknown elements and required more monitoring and care from the President and his team. But Fox wanted Nezumi to know that just because his resources were elsewhere didn't mean he had stopped paying attention.

Nezumi grit his teeth and turned onto his side. The window screens were playing a peaceful forest scene in the early stages of dawn. If he strained his ears he could make out the soundtrack of bird twittering and leaves rustling from the speakers overhead.

Whoever set the room up probably thought it would be soothing. A forest scene for the homesick residents of District 7. Like most things in the Capitol the thought was oversimplified and wrong. The forest was not just pretty scenery to the people of District 7. It was their livelihood and the site of their oppression. It was the place where good people died trying to live.

Phantom pain fanned over his back and Nezumi clenched his jaw against the burn he knew no longer existed. When the Capitol fixed him up for victory they had done more than heal his wounds; they had given him a full makeover, complete with flawless skin.

He remembered the shock he felt when his prep team stripped him down and he saw soft white skin where the angry scar had once taken up the lower half of his back. The prep team had gushed about what a beautiful job the cosmeticians had done, but all Nezumi could think was that the Capitol had taken everything from him.

He had few memories of his parents and his baby sister, but he remembered the fire that killed them and dozens more well. He and Kal had been the only survivors, although Kal had no recollection of the accident. They were barely a month old, and would have perished too if their mother had not been brave enough to sacrifice herself.

His burn had been a badge of survival, but more importantly, it was the only thing he had to connect him to his family. And the Capitol scrubbed it away like dirt.

Nezumi snatched the remote from the side table turned the display off. Sunlight burst into the room full blast. Nezumi hissed and threw the blankets over his head, stabbing buttons on the remote until the shades came down. He grumbled expletives in the dark until a soft knock on the door made him quiet.

Nezumi pushed the covers off and stared at the locked door. Silence on the other side. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 7:00am.

"What?" he called.

A tendril of dread swirled in his stomach as the silence behind the door persisted. Then:

"Nezumi?" A small, nervous voice. Rico's. "Erm… Gran wants you to come down and eat breakfast with us."

Nezumi released the breath he was holding. "Yeah. Okay. Be down in a minute."

He pulled on the first shirt and pair of pants the closet generated for him and headed downstairs.

Nezumi slowed as he approached the dining room. The shock was over; he was confident he could act like he didn't know Shion. He couldn't be sure of Shion's acting abilities, but at the very least he would know not to draw attention. As long as they kept quiet they would be fine. Despite every reassurance, however, Nezumi's heart pounded.

Everyone was already well into eating when he arrived. All except Gregor, who was absent. Nezumi considered asking after him, but he wasn't all that interested.

The table was stocked with all the breakfast staples and a few show off pieces. Nezumi noticed the one side of the table was piled with dirty dishes. The servers were nowhere to be seen.

Rou looked up. "Good morning, Nezumi."

"So nice of you to finally join us," Gran muttered to her fruit salad, and Kal's mouth quirked up at the corners.

Nezumi primly ignored Gran and took the empty seat at the head of the table. He pretended to eye the food, taking a furtive look around the room again, but there was no sign of any servants at all, Avox or otherwise. Nezumi grabbed an apple and munched on it in thoughtful silence.

"So," Rou said, "today's the first real day of Games preparation."

"That's right. First, you'll go to the Remake Center, where you will not object to anything they try to do to you," Gran said, fixing her hard stare on Kal. Kal's face clouded over, but before they could make any retort, Gran turned away and continued. "When you're done, you'll meet your stylists and dress for the parade."

"After the parade, you go directly to your first day of training," Rou finished. "There are three days in all. Make the most of them."

A pause followed and Nezumi could feel the eyes of his fellow mentors on him. Kal and Rico's gazes naturally followed. Nezumi repressed a sigh and swallowed his mouthful of apple.

"I don't have much to add," Nezumi said. "But I wonder what ugly costume they'll come up with for you two this year."

Rico frowned with a forkful hash browns halfway to his mouth. Kal wrinkled their nose.

"Ugh… I forgot about that," Kal grumbled. "They always make us look like garbage."

"Last year's costumes were okay," Rico said.

Nezumi quashed a shiver of disgust.

Kal snorted. "Oh yeah. The deer costumes. Those antlers were a real good look on you, Nezumi." They flashed a nasty smirk at him.

Nezumi smiled blandly back. "My looks can sometimes be a curse. Not all of us are fortunate enough to have a face as unremarkable as yours, Kal."

Kal paused. "You just insulted me, didn't you."

"Sounded like it," Rico said absentmindedly as he crammed another helping of eggs down his gullet.

"You can't help how your stylists dress you," Rou sighed. "All you can do is make the best of it."

"Even if you hate what you're wearing, don't let it show on camera," Gran said. "Smile, wave, blow kisses—do whatever you have to do to draw sponsors in."

Kal and Rico were much cleaner and smelled much better after the Remake Center, but Nezumi had never seen them look quite so miserable. Kal kept casting spiteful looks at their clean-shaven legs, and Rico's face was so red from scrubbing he looked burned. Nezumi felt a twinge of pity for them.

The twinge turned to a spasm when their stylists arrived with honest to goodness tree costumes. Full brown bodysuits with layers of leaves and pinecones wrapped around them, complete with twig headpieces. The prep team cooed and fussed over how sweet Kal and Rico looked. Kal met Nezumi's eyes and they both shook their heads. It was the first non-hostile look they had shared, and it was well deserved.

Rou and Gran pulled them aside to give them some cheering up and Nezumi slunk away to survey the competition. Districts 1, 2, and 4 were always a problem, and this year their tributes looked tough. The girls were lithe but strong, and the boys were massive. The less prosperous districts like 11 and 12 had their typical scrawny competitors, so Nezumi wasn't worried there, but both tributes from 6 and the girl from 10 had him on edge.

They could be trouble. He would tell Kal and Rico to keep an eye on them in training.

All in all, these Games weren't looking too much in District 7's favor. The only consolation was that every district's parade outfit was equally hideous.

"Nezumi."

Nezumi turned. A short girl had pushed her way through the crowd to his side. He recognized her petite features and electric blue hair.

Nezumi cocked his head. "…Safu, right?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes, that's right. We met last year at the Victor's Ball. It's so nice to see you again."

Nezumi smiled back at her. This is weird…

"Your tributes' outfits look good." She managed to sound sincere, but something in her eyes told Nezumi she felt the same as he did about the styling. "My grandmother is a stylist for District 8." Safu gestured to an older woman across the enclosure. She was fluffing up the huge textile bows on the sides of her tributes' heads.

"Your grandmother is talented," Nezumi lied.

"Thank you. Usually only the stylists and their teams are allowed down here, but I begged her to let me tag along. I'm such a big fan of the Games, I couldn't turn down the chance to see the parade preparations up close." Safu clasped her hands in front of her and smiled. "But since it's technically against the rules, I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone she snuck me down."

Her smile was superficially convincing, but Nezumi was in the business of lying through smiles, and he could see hers was nervous around the edges.

Very weird…

But then, if their last conversation was anything to go by, Safu had an ulterior motive. He wasn't certain what it was this time, but he had an uneasy feeling that he might guess if he wanted to.

"Your secret's safe with me," Nezumi said, and waited.

Safu wrung her hands and glanced at the chariots. Nezumi followed suit and noted District 1 looked just about ready to set off. If Safu had something to say, she'd better get to it quickly.

Safu turned back to Nezumi. "I wish they served food at these preparations, though. Finger foods or something. Even a few pastries would be good." She pushed a little more levity into her voice as she continued, "I don't know if you like pastries, but there's a great shop just around the corner. Karan's. I usually stop by there around lunchtime to see what the cake of the day is. You should try it out if you have some free time."

"That does sound good," Nezumi said. "We don't get many occasions to eat sweets in 7, but maybe I'll treat myself while I'm here."

Safu's smile grew a mite more confident. "I highly recommend it. Today's special is cherry cake."

Nezumi swallowed, but Safu was already pulling away.

"I better get back; the parade looks like it's about to start." Safu gave him a polite nod. "It was nice seeing you again, Nezumi."

She melded into the crowd and Nezumi had a feeling of déjà vu.

Karan's. A roar of cheers exploded from the onlookers as District 1's chariot started its circuit around the City Center.

Once the tributes had finished their circuit they were ferried off to their first day of training. This meant that the mentors had a few hours to themselves to do with what they wished. Gran and Rou planned to attend the Victor's luncheon to see their friends from previous years. They urged Nezumi to come as well, but he declined. Gran only looked miffed instead of disapproving, so Nezumi knew he had almost grinded her down to indifference. If he kept on the way he did she and Rou would soon stop turning to him for mentorship input.

They went their separate ways as they exited the chariot stable and Nezumi stood a moment on Victory Rd, taking in the garish Capitol life. The weather was mild, and people took advantage by showing off their most daring outfits.

Nezumi had been stung by Tracker Jackers once and the hallucinations he suffered at the time were nothing compared to the throw up of color and styles he saw walking around him. A whole cluster of young people in front of him looked like they were each in the process of molting into a different tropical bird. The saddest part was that amongst the exuberant taste of the Capitol, it was Nezumi's nondescript outfit that stood out. A few passersby waved and grinned at him in recognition.

Nezumi's shirt had a cowl, and he was thankful for it once he pulled it up and joined the throng of people. When it was up he was rendered unfashionable and unrecognizable, which meant less people paid him mind. Nezumi stayed close to the buildings around the City Center, his eyes scanning the signs as he passed.

Karan's. Nezumi drew to a stop in front of a prim white building. The door was propped open, and through it wafted the fresh scent of baked bread and powdered sugar. Racks of sweets lined the windows, and in the center of each sat a large cake. Today's looked to be cherry, as Safu had said. The name of the bakery was scrawled in bubbly yellow letters over the doorway.

Nezumi brushed the cowl off his head and checked his watch. Just a little past 11:30. He didn't know what Safu meant by lunchtime, but it seemed like a good time to peruse the bakery.

The mouthwatering scent grew stronger once he stepped inside and Nezumi's stomach grumbled appreciatively. The space was moderately sized, but he saw no customers and no one behind the counter at the moment.

He studied the cake in the window. It was crafted in a bundt shape, dark red, and drizzled with pieces of cherry and almond. It looked sophisticated and succulent, and Nezumi wanted a piece even though he didn't like cherries much.

"Hello."

Nezumi nearly jumped, but he controlled it down to a flinch and turned to face whomever snuck up on him. A woman of somewhere between thirty and forty years old stood behind him. She was a bit plump, but no less pretty for it, and her shoulder length brown hair was streaked with bronze and deep red, which complemented her light brown eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the woman said with a smile. "I think I know you… Nezumi, right?"

Nezumi nodded. The woman's face looked familiar, although he knew he had never met her before.

"Yes, I remember you from last year. I'm Karan. Although you probably guessed from the sign outside." Karan nodded with her head toward the door, since her hands were occupied with a tray of cookies. She tilted her head at him. "I'm surprised to see a victor here, though. I don't get many high profile customers, even though my recipes are delicious." Her eyes twinkled as she spoke, and Nezumi found himself warming to her unaffected demeanor. "If you like what you buy, please put in a good word for me with the other victors, would you?"

Nezumi chuckled. "I can try, but being the new victor, I can't promise my word has much sway."

"Ah well." Karan moved up beside him and balanced the tray on her knee as she began dispatching cookies onto a display. "Would you like a cherry cake? I saw you eyeing it."

Nezumi opened his mouth to reply, but spotted a flash of electric blue outside the window. He and Safu locked eyes and Safu made a beeline for the bakery door.

Karan straightened. "Safu!"

"Hello, Miss Karan," Safu said warmly. She closed the door behind her and turned to Nezumi with a serious expression. "You came."

"I had some free time."

"Thank you for coming. I wanted to talk to you, but there didn't seem to be a good place."

Nezumi glanced at Karan. "And here is…?"

Karan finished with the cookies and looked between them. "I have a fresh batch of that hazelnut bread you like in the back, Safu. Come try it. You too, Nezumi."

Nezumi followed the two women into the back room. Flour bags lined the walls and the counters were covered in half-made breads and pastries. Nezumi spied a cot through a cracked door at the end of the room.

Safu took a deep breath. "I wanted to ask you about the night of the Victor's Banquet."

A weight settled in Nezumi's chest.

"Do you remember the friend I mentioned?"

Safu's eyes were intense in their darkness. Nezumi wanted to lie. He wanted to say no, claim no knowledge of what she was insinuating, and leave. He didn't want to have this conversation when the knowledge he had was still so freshly acquired, and he didn't want to get caught up in whatever this would turn into.

"Why?" Nezumi hedged.

Safu's stare retreated a degree. "Something happened that night…" She trailed off and crossed her arms. "I want to understand what happened. You said you spoke to Shion—what did he say to you, exactly? Do you remember?"

"Shion?" Karan's eyes grew wide, and Nezumi indentified fear and pain swimming in their depths. The weight in his chest grew to crushing. He realized why Karan looked so familiar.

Karan's hands curled into fists at her sides. "What are you talking about?" She started the question facing Safu, but her light eyes ended up searching his face for answers. "Nezumi?" she said faintly. "You knew my son?"

I shouldn't have come here.

Nezumi swallowed. "I know him."

Safu stiffened. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm guessing you already know what happened after the Banquet. The why isn't really important." The words felt removed from himself, as though his mouth and his mind were separate entities. Instinct told him to run, but he owed Shion's family this much.

Karan and Safu watched him, transfixed. The anticipation in their eyes made him feel sick.

"He works in the Training Center. As an attendant on my floor."

Karan inhaled sharply and covered her mouth. Safu rested a hand on the older woman's arm, but it appeared to be an unconscious response. Her own expression looked similarly stricken.

"He seemed well when we met," Nezumi said, because it seemed like the right thing to say to a mother. "He's safe for now. You have nothing to worry about."

Karan's eyes brimmed with tears. She turned and fled the room, leaving Safu's hand hanging in dead space. Nezumi's mouth felt dry and empty.

Safu hugged herself. "I see… Thank you."

Nezumi had never felt more like shit. What happened to Shion wasn't even his fault, not really. He knew this, he told himself over and over again, but he kept thinking about the bakery with its homey but demure exterior, of the just visible crowfeet in the corners of Karan's eyes, the puffs of flour on her apron. These were Shion's roots, and in Capitol it didn't get more humble than this.

"Where did he get the money?"

Safu's brow furrowed, but her mind was somewhere else.

Nezumi made himself repeat the question, louder and stronger. "Where did Shion get the money to sponsor?"

Safu's look sharpened in an instant. "He…" She pressed her lips together. "He used his college fund."

Nezumi clenched his jaw, but found himself nodding. "I'm leaving."

Safu said nothing and Nezumi moved around her toward the front of the bakery.

"Nezumi, wait!"

It was Karan's voice and, despite every instinct, Nezumi stopped with his hand on the front door. Karan hurried over to him with a cake box. Her nose was pink and her eyes puffy but dry.

"Please, take this." She pressed the box into his hands and Nezumi didn't dare refuse. "This is for you, but… Please share with your friends, too. If you can. Okay?"