I'd always been pretty familiar with pain. Rarely a day passed without it. But here, Day 3 of training in this giant center at "Academy," pain was the spur driving me forward, instead of pain meant to break me apart. The slice across my cheek? A reminder of how Zeke now deserved one. The bruise across my left thigh? A reminder that I needed to get better at climbing ropes. The burns on my hands? I sucked at making fires and needed to improve. Everything was about getting better. And I liked this viewpoint.

Now the sudden pain in my jaw reminded me I needed to not get distracted when sparring with Zeke.

"Oi, not the face again," I said in irritation, as I proceeded to attack him and kick him in the gut before getting in a scratch across the shoulder.

"A real opponent would not care about how pretty your face is," he said sarcastically, as he swung at my head. I ducked and rolled away, and the fight went on as it had for a long while, until he nailed me in the hand and I shrieked, dropping my sword.

"Whoa, both a loss AND a scream, what has gotten into you?" I shot a look of loathing at that cocky, smug voice and face, but didn't bother retorting.

My hand was bleeding badly now, I realized, as I looked down at it. Fuming, I stormed out of the training center, using my body to shove open the door and slam it as my good hand clutched my bleeding one. I made my way down the corridors and into the hospital wing, avoiding eye contact with everyone as I glared at the ground, the pain in my hand growing by the second.

I didn't really know where I was going; I shoved past any nurse who tried to stop me, and I guess I was headed for the back of the wing to find an empty treatment room where I could fix myself and be alone.

No, I don't want help. No, leave me alone. No, go away. Ugh, people.

I turned down an empty-looking hallway and glanced inside each room I walked past, looking for a vacant one. In the last room, there was a small man sitting at a desk. When he looked up and saw me, he suddenly exclaimed, "Blaze!"

What?

I stared at him. He motioned me toward him, and I hesitantly went. He got up, revealing that he really was a small man, barely five feet tall, and he quickly closed the door and started rummaging around in a drawer. "Sit," he pointed at a second chair, and I sat down, eying him warily as he pulled out some cream and bandages and sat back in his chair.

He held out his hand for mine across the desk, and after giving him a suspicious look, I let go of my bleeding hand and set it in his. He immediately began working on it, dressing the wound with gentle and nimble fingers.

"I have waited so long for this day," the old man said after a moment of silence. He released my hand once it was comfortably tended and wrapped. I merely watched him, curiously waiting for an explanation.

"I realize that you probably do not recognize me, Miss Smith, but I was the first person you met when you came into this world." There were smile crinkles at the edges of his eyes behind his thick glasses. I frowned slightly, still saying nothing. The man was obviously a Capitol doctor, his hair a frazzled emerald green and his voice laced with traces of a Capitol accent.

"My name is Dr. Gaius, Miss Smith. If you have the time, I would like to explain myself, and clear up a few questions you may have."

…What?

"How do you know me?" Those were the first words I spoke. It was all really strange, but I guess I wanted to know how this man knew my name and what he was talking about.

"It's a long story, Miss Smith, and I'd advise you to brace yourself for some rather shocking pieces of information."

"I've had worse, go on."

He nodded, almost sorrowfully. "Yes, I'm afraid you have. All my fault of course. I should have hidden you away in a safer location. But there wasn't time." Intrigued, I waited for him to continue. "Do you know why your name is Blaze, Miss Smith?" he asked, but didn't wait for me to answer, "It's because of the power, the emotion, the energy you contain in you. I was the first to meet you as a newborn, and you were a feisty one." There were smile crinkles by his eyes again. "You blazed with life, and I couldn't have been prouder of my work."

…Sorry, what?

"Are you saying you invented me?" I asked skeptically.

'"No, no, not at all. Hush now, let me continue. No, you were indeed born from natural parents. They were not married, but I gave you your father's last name nonetheless, for those two were closer than any married couple could ever be. You see, Miss Smith, you were not born under normal circumstances. To put it in as plain terms as I can… your embryo was rescued from your mother's dead body. It was I who discovered she had been pregnant, and it was I who saved you."

So my mom really was dead. I had figured as much, but there was always that small, pointless hope that every orphan has, that I could find my parents again someday.

"Then why—"

"Hush child, I will explain. You see, your mother wasn't dead from natural causes. She was only a teenager, a strong, brave, skilled teenager, from this District in fact, and she had just been killed in our renowned pageant of the Hunger Games."

The Hunger Games. The event I was now supposedly in training for. The irony.

"They made a pregnant girl compete in the Hunger Games?" I asked after a moment, frowning even more.

"They did not know, child. She became pregnant the day after physical examination, I believe."

"How? If she was already at the Capitol—"

"The boy she loved came with her, Blaze. He volunteered the moment she was reaped. He too was killed in the Games. He was your father."

I sat very still, in silence, my brain trying to absorb this. I was the love child of District 2's tributes in a Hunger Games. "Which- Which Games was it?" I asked faintly, my head spinning.

"The 74th."

His quiet words echoed through the small office.

"Isn't that the Games with—"

"Yes, yes, the Games that the rebel, the Mockingjay, Katniss won."

What?!

This made my head spin even more. Katniss Mellark. That woman who had tried to rise up against the Capitol and failed. And suffered the consequences.

"Would you like to see them, Blaze?" Chills ran through me at those words. See my...parents? "I have a tape of those Games right here. I caught wind that you had arrived here, and knew I had to speak to you about this." He slid the disk into his computer and the recording began. "I recorded not just the Games but the parade and interviews as well, which I normally do. Here you can see them up close." He went to the interviews, and I felt my chest contracted as if it were being squeezed in an iron vice.

A girl, not much older than me right now, walked onto the stage to greet the interviewer, amidst an uproar of cheers. Dr. Gaius paused it.

"This, Blaze, is your mother. Age 16, from District 2, Clove Rivers, a skilled knife-thrower like yourself." I could only stare. He smiled and played the tape.

Clove had a clear voice, and I sat very quiet as I listened to her talk, to hear her say things about herself and about her life. She could be my sister, really, she looked so much like me. Or rather, I looked so much like her. Long, dark hair. Pale, freckled skin. I thought we might have the same eyebrows and nose. I watched in silence until there was applause and she began to leave the stage. I didn't want her to go. I had been just starting to get to know her. But I didn't have time to say something, because then the name Cato Smith rang out and more deafening cheers welled up from the crowd.

A tall, muscular boy strolled out to greet the interviewer. Well, I say boy—he was bigger than the interviewer who was a full-grown man himself. So he must have been eighteen, he had golden blonde hair, smooth tan skin, and piercing, pale blue eyes like mine. And…obviously a massive ego. While Clove's words had been quiet, calm, even mysterious, Cato was bold, fierce, his words practically already challenging viewers to a fight. I looked away when he finished, not wanting to see more. The doctor merely continued watching the screen, lost in thought.

"How did they die?" I asked.

"Your mother was killed first," he sighed after a moment, "In sixth place, I believe. They had a whole plan set up to catch and kill who they saw as their biggest threat, Katniss Mellark, or rather Katniss Everdeen, as she was in those days. They knew she needed medicine for Peeta Mellark and so Cato waited in the woods for her, cutting off escape routes while Clove went in to fight her directly. Your mother was almost victorious, but then Thresh, a giant boy from District 11, killed her. A rock to the head. And soon after, I saved you. Thresh and Katniss left the scene quickly, but the hovercraft did have to wait for Cato, who found her right after she died. He nearly died then and there too. I assure you nearly everyone in the Capitol was crying at what they saw on screen."

"How am I so young?" I interrupted, the thought suddenly hitting me and the need to avoid grief too strong. "How am I only 15 years old? Why… Why am I not 25?"

"The moment Clove's body was in the hovercraft, I went to her, because I had had suspicions about her being pregnant. Before anyone else got to her, I surgically removed your embryo from her stomach. It wasn't safe to simply let you grow, though. If news got out that the Capitol orphaned a child in such a way… there could be riots! No, I put your embryo in a special freezer—Capitol technology has advanced incredibly, Blaze—and I kept you hidden for a decade, until I was sure everyone had forgotten who Clove was. Finally I decided it was safe to let you grow, so I kept you a secret experiment in my own personal lab, and the day you were "born," officially grown into a human baby, I could not have been prouder."

He sighed though, no smile there. "But you only made it to age 2 before you were discovered. You were so small, so innocent. And when I discovered you were missing, my heart broke."

I stared hard at him, my mind working really hard to process this outrageous information.

"They didn't know who you were and you didn't match any citizen's DNA records, so they tossed you in an orphanage before I even knew you were gone. I'm so sorry, Blaze. I wanted you to have a better life and I couldn't have failed more miserably."

"Thank you," I said hesitantly, glancing back at the screen. A small redheaded girl sat in the chair beside the interviewer, timidly but calmly answering questions. "The Games are brutal," I said, "I know I shouldn't be talking, seeing what I've done, but this is worse."

"I know, Blaze, I know. It is a horrid tradition. Katniss tried to end it but failed. But of all the people out there, Blaze, I think you would be the most capable of ending the Capitol's oppression. You of all people could do it." He stopped the video and took out the disc, and he pressed it into the palm of my good hand. "Take it with you. And try as hard as you can to keep your parentage a secret. Now quick, go, return to your training."

The little man got up and went to the door. I followed him and paused for a moment, looking at him with curiosity in my eyes. He had risked his neck to save my life...supposedly. I smiled faintly, then hurried out into the hall and back toward the training center, hoping Zeke wouldn't be too pissed that I had been missing for a while.