He emerged from sleep groggy, but he was used to that now; even comforted by it. He slowly regained consciousness, flexing his right hand until the motion was grounded and solid.
Experimentally, he lifted his left hand above his resting head. Slowly, he flexed it.
The index finger moved without issue. The ring and little fingers had more limited motion, and couldn't bend all the way into the curve of his palm.
What was left of his middle finger moved without issue.
It had been called a "mild" accident at the mills- young boys put their hands in the machines all the time, and most emerged with far less than he had lost. He had been given the virtue of a good doctor- the rumours abounded that he wasn't originally from District 8, an ex-Capitolian; living low in a tiny shack, away from Peacekeeper view.
Cesal didn't care. He was just happy the guy had the knowledge of nerve reattachment to give him two of three severed fingers back.
Rising from bed, Cesal picked up a black strip of cloth and wrapped it around his left wrist, tying it on with his right. He put on a shirt, fighting with the buttons in an unending battle. He changed trousers into his work clothes, jammed on his heavily and repeatedly repaired boots, and put a grimy grey flat cap over tousled brown hair.
He flicked a glance to the mirror standing in the corner of the tiny room. A young man with crooked nose and hazel eyes glanced back. He smiled.
The smile did not drop when he turned away.
Blatantly ignoring his parents and large swathe of siblings, he snatched up his work satchel, picked up a flatbread covered in flax seeds from the table, and whipped through the door.
Cutch Hassan was already at the door.
"You're kidding." Cesal groaned, ripping into the flatbread. "That bad?" He managed through a mouthful of bread.
"Worse, my dear, darling friend." The black band on Cutch's arm flapped as he clapped a hand on Cesal's shoulder.
"You just called me darling, this is bad." Cesal flashed Cutch a smile between bites of flatbread.
"The Weavermen won't do it."
"Ohhhhh-" Cesal threw his arms up in the air. Cutch grabbed the uplifted flatbread and tore a piece from it. "Why is it when we try to be civil with a gang, they turn us down?"
"Probably because we're a gang."
"A civil one!"
"-Cesal-"
"-No, Hassan, no, you can't ask this from me, Cutch-"
"-I need you to talk with the Soiled Hand."
Cesal took back his flatbread, perennial bright smile no longer holding the similar glint behind his eyes.
"No, Cutch."
"I know your hangups about them, but-"
"Hangups?" Cesal almost dropped his flatbread. "Cutch, you- they- what they did to Dane-"
"Was unspeakable. I know. I know, Cesal." A large hand clapped his shoulder again, and he found himself staring up into Cutch's sympathetic face. "But they won't speak to me, and I need you to do this. They might listen to you, Ces. They might just do it."
"So some guys we like more than those guys don't put their drugs guys on our turf?"
Cutch looked at Cesal out of the corner of his eye. "Remind me again what we do for a living?"
Cesal grinned, flicking his eyes to some Peacekeepers that passed- their helmets revealed little, but their heads moved to observe the black strips of cloth tied around their wrists and arms. "Textile workers, Hassan, obviously- which begs the question, why aren't we going there?" The two of them had walked past the factory already, and Cutch wasn't slowing down.
Cutch frowned down at Cesal. "Sometimes I wonder how you work for me and not the other way around."
"Thanks, doll-"
"This is not one of those times."
"So- why aren't we going to work again? This a Black Band thing?"
"Not everything revolves around the gang, Cesal."
"Remind me what we do again-"
"It's Reaping day, Ces."
Cesal stopped short. Cutch stopped with him.
"-What?" He managed weakly.
"It's Reaping day."
Cesal stared blankly at his flatbread. He hadn't even said anything to his family this morning.
"Ces?"
"Hm?" He flicked his eyes up.
"You good?"
"I- yeah, it's good." Cesal smiled, bit into his flatbread.
He tried not to think about what was to come.
"Cesal Nesbin."
The Peacekeeper ticked a box. Cesal reluctantly placed his finger in the inkpad and registered his fingerprints, his Reaping registration card now almost full. Two more years and he was out of the Reaping.
Carmina was only just starting her second year. Cochin started the Reaping today.
He would jump in front of any one of them. They just didn't know it.
Hopefully they would never have to know.
Cutch smiled weakly, pulling Cesal into a half-embrace as the two walked to the age 16 partition.
"We'll be fine, Ces. I might be your superior in the Black Bands, but don't think for a second I won't jump in for you. We're together in this."
"Hassan, if you jump in for me, I'll make sure that I'll kill you before the Capitol can try."
"You? I'm pretty sure Madden can get in faster for his best gang guy jumping in front of his markedly less authoritative, obviously less handsome, loser second in command."
"Fuck off, Hassan."
"Love you too, Nesbin."
The two friends grinned at each other, however shakily, before standing at the front of the pen of sixteen year old males.
A Capitolian, dolled up and terrifyingly dressed, came onto the stage with more fervour than any person has any right to have on a day like this. Cesal wasn't a big anti-Capitol guy, especially not when Peacekeepers routinely turned a blind guy to his work, but he could never give any respect to them; especially on Reaping day.
His little brother was crying in the front.
Words were spoken and videos shown. The Capitolian walked to the first bowl, filled to overflowing with slips.
"The female tribute for the seventy-sixth annual Hunger Games is- Resta Hurst!"
Not his sister. Not his sister. Cesal breathes a sigh of relief despite the screaming little girl dragged by Peacekeepers to the stage.
"And the male tribute is- Cutch Hassan!"
Cesal suddenly finds he cannot breathe. Cutch is staring at the ground. Cesal goes out to grab him but he is already moving, to the front, to the stage.
Cutch has no big brothers to take the fall. He has no chivalrous family to help him.
Except one.
Cesal does not even think about the stupid thing he is about to do.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
Cesal Nesbin was submitted by Goldenfeatherkyru- with thanks to them.
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