Disclaimer: I don't own JJK.

Control

"Beauty is not the face; beauty is a light in the heart." -Khalil Gibran

"Get me out of this room."

Geto covered his mouth with one long-fingered hand, casting his gaze anywhere but at me. I knew he was laughing at me, though. His trembling shoulders gave him away.

"I'm serious!" I stressed. "If I see one more person come at me with tweezers or razors or wax strips or another damn brush, I'm going to go ballistic!"

My introduction to Capitol life was...not quite what I expected. The station had been positively crowded with people screaming mine and Muta's names, joyful smiles on every colorful face and different styles that made me a little dizzy to look at. And the touching. These people were touch-deprived because I'd never had so many hands touching me all at once. It was a lot to both Muta and myself, but Geto's hand on my back gently kept me moving when I froze in place. It remained there until we entered the Stadium where the Tribute Parade would take place.

However, I quickly learned that Geto and Yuki had led us into literal hell.

I'd never felt so exposed in my whole life. Women with wild hairstyles tore the kimono Izumi made me change into off with quick hands, ignoring my shrieks of horror being stark naked in front of literal strangers, and went to work hosing me down head to toe. Men with make-up dotting the corners of their eyes patted and caressed my hair, mumbling to each other as they applied multiple lotions and products to my hair, quickly washing it out only to repeat the process again two more times when it didn't do what they were looking for. The women attacked my skin with a ferocity I'd never been subjected to, slapping on wax strips to every corner of my body and spending an obscene amount of time cleaning my nails.

And now, here I was wearing a flimsy piece of cloth that could barely qualify as a shift as Geto stood in the door silently laughing at my misery. Any embarrassment that I had on the train was long gone by this point.

"Beauty is painful," He said, voice shaky. "All Tributes go through this process."

"Being stark naked in front of the opposite sex is part of the process?!"

"They're professionals," He promised, lowering his hand to show his pursed lips. I scowled at him, realizing he was still struggling not to openly laugh at me. "They don't focus on whether you're packing big or not. They only focus on what they're hired to do and they take it very seriously."

"Why?" I demanded, knowing I sounded whiny and not caring. "Who suddenly decided Oh, this girl has hair on her arms, let's wax it as painfully as possible because God forbid other people see her looking like a rodent in the Arena?! Because I'd like to meet them. I'm vain, but not this vain!"

"It's just to help appeal you to the Capitolites," Geto appeased. "Dress like them and they'll feel more connected to you."

"Is someone's face going to be so close to me that they're gonna pick out every individual strand of hair in my eyebrows?"

Geto paused. "No."

"Then this pain isn't worth it."

My stomach warmed at the muffled laugh he finally let out. Silently, I hoped to make him do it just once more. He didn't look as tense when he laughed. "It's a one time process, I promise. Unless you grow hair back ridiculously fast and if that's the case, I can't help you there."

"You promise?" I challenged. His answering smirk said it all. "I hope your hair removal process was painful."

"Not as painful as yours just was, I'm sure." His head tilted and he moved aside just as a new woman walked in with a long bag hanging off her arm. Her clothes were clearly Capitol-like, extravagant and obnoxious, but her plain straight brown hair and very visible purple bags under her eyes made me second guess myself. She was certainly beautiful, though. The complete opposite of Yuki's rough and tumble beauty, but more a graceful kind of beauty.

"Beautiful to see you here, Suguru, but you know mentors are not allowed to see their Tributes in this phase," She said coolly. "Shouldn't you be out there schmoozing the sponsors for her?"

"Yuki is doing that for me," He responded. "She has a more attention-grabbing personality than I do." Was that a...teasing undertone in his voice? Beyond curious, I wondered how these two knew each other. Dating, maybe? My heart thumped painfully in my chest and it was difficult to not visibly deflate right there. Looking at them standing side by side, they definitely would make quite the couple. It'd be a sin for someone like Geto to not be taken. He was too beautiful to not be attached to someone else.

(Ah, what am I even thinking? I shouldn't be thinking of my mentor in that way.)

The woman merely gave him an unimpressed look as she pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it. My nose crinkled at the sharp tobacco scent. "I'm Ieiri Shoko, your main stylist," She introduced. She circled the table I sat on, fingers gently tugging the ends of my hair and tilting my head in different directions. The bags under her eyes were very misleading. She was very aware of what she was looking for. "It's my job to make you stand out at the Tribute Parade and keep you at the front of everyone's minds. District 7, right?"

"Yes."

She clicked her tongue. "Lumber. Talk about tricky. There's little you can do to show off a tree and I refuse to send you out there looking like a lumberjack."

I breathed a sigh of relief as Geto spoke. "What do you have in mind, Shoko? The ideas I gave you aren't going to cut it?"

"They're too simple and obvious," She said honestly. "A different stylist would've used your ideas, but not me." A slow smile crept across her lips. "I have a better idea." She jabbed her finger towards the door. "Out. You can hover outside the door, but you're not going to be in here while she changes. Poor girl deserves some privacy after what she just went through." He held his hands up in playful surrender and left the room.

"You two seem close," I noted.

Shoko's lips twitched at the obvious fishing undertone in my voice, but she indulged me regardless. "I've known Suguru for a while now. He's a good man and a good friend."

The relief that washed through me was strong, but embarrassing all the same that Shoko seemed to see right through my words without even trying. I gave myself a very firm mental shake. "He's been a good mentor so far," I said firmly. "There's a lot that I have to do still if I want to survive."

"Suguru won't let you down," Shoko assured confidently. "He's a good strategist and he knows how to achieve results. It's a shame he decided only this year to mentor. I think District 7 would've had more Victors if he'd stepped up sooner, especially if Satoru's attached to his hip."

"Satoru?"

Shoko's brown eyes glittered, mischievous almost. "I'm sure you'll meet him soon." Knowing an unspoken cue when I heard one, I held back on any more questions when Shoko motioned for me to stand, watching as I hesitated in pulling the shift off. "Don't be shy," She said gently. "We're going to make this quick and painless as possible. I'm sure your other stylists put you through the ringer earlier, so the faster we get this done, the more comfortable we'll both be." Taking a deep breath, I tore the shift off as she opened the body bag now hanging on the wall.

"That's a lot of green," I said nervously. There were so many different shades of green that I feared would clash horrendously with my dark hair and tan skin.

Shoko hummed, tugging at the outfit and examining it. "It was my first idea, but after actually seeing you, I know some adjustments will have to be made."

"Do you have time for that?" I asked, concerned. "The Tribute Parade will be starting soon, right?"

"An hour," Shoko confirmed, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, "but have faith in me. I can get it done." Opening the door, she called, "Hey, Suguru! Grab the girls for me. I need them to run some errands for me real quick."

The room became a flurry of activity. Shoko easily helped me slip into the costume, hands zipping the back up and carefully tying thin bands into place around my wrists. I was embarrassed to note a diamond-shaped gap in the middle of the dress, the tip just under my breasts and the bottom reaching below my bellybutton. The edges reached across my stomach, showcasing a lot more skin than I'd ever shown before. I held my arms out at her request and was delighted to see the ends of the dress rise up to my waist with the motion, momentarily forgetting my embarrassment.

"This fabric is so soft," I noted.

Shoko nodded absently, fiddling with a sewing needle and thread. "Tulle is popular right now, very easy to work with and able to add layers to an outfit that weren't there before. It's an underestimated fabric, in my opinion."

Orange and red sheer fabric was quickly sewn into place at my hips, falling into strategic placements as Shoko added what looked like lines of realistic-looking leaves to the back. Securing the halter strap around my neck, she took a step back and cocked her head. She snapped her fingers and a modest wreath loaded with wildflowers and berries was placed on my head.

"Easily one of my best works," Shoko muttered lowly, eyes appreciative. "Get her hair and make-up done and then we'll get going. Quickly, please, we're low on time."

The stylists were much more gentle this time around. Brushes feathered across my face, my face scrunching up at the ticklish sensation and something that looked like liquid silver was applied meticulously in graceful swirls around the tops of my cheeks and at the corners of my eyes. I quickly discovered I had a massive weakness to the careful tugging and pulling the girl behind me was doing to my hair. Her fingers scratched my scalp with every section she separated, pleasant tingles fluttering around my skull and lulling me into a sleepy, almost-dazed state that I never wanted to leave.

I barely noticed them take a step back, blinking back to reality when Shoko came into view. Taking her offered hands, she helped me stand. Pressing a button on the wall, I jumped when it sunk backwards and flipped, revealing a huge mirror.

Standing in front of it was like looking at a stranger. I'd never seen my hair curled before, the strands tickling my mid-back teasingly, and the thin lines of silver that stretched out from the corners of my eyes made them look exotic, foreign. And the dress. It was a lot. Different shades of green tulle made up the majority of the design, skirting across the floor with every movement, and overlapped artistically with the sheer orange and red fabrics Shoko had called for. She'd had another belt of leaves wrapped around the small of my waist on top of the heavy layers down my back, a make-shift cape that still left my shoulders bare. A stylist was quick to add silver glitter to all of my revealed skin, creating an illusion of sleeves on my shoulders and down my arms. She left my midriff alone and waved away the shoes offered, leaving my feet blissfully bare.

"You think I look like I'm from District 7 in this?" I asked quietly, stunned.

Shoko gave a secretive smile. "Do you even know what you're supposed to be?" At my head shake, she explained. "A tree spirit. They're known to be benevolent creatures, representing fertility and abundance blessings. Gentle and tame, but quick to rouse when the forest is threatened. District 7 is the calmest of the Districts, valuing its peace and appreciating the nature that surrounds it. Being loggers, you understand better than anyone what the forest offers your people. I think it suits you."

I wanted to say something. Express my gratitude. Say how much her words meant to me. Compliment her hard work because it truly was the most amazing work I'd ever seen before. Thank her for making me feel like the most beautiful creature in existence before I'd be fighting for my life in two short weeks. But my closed throat and blurry eyes refused to cooperate and I could only stare at her with eyes quickly misting over and pursed lips. Shoko could only smile as she read the unspoken words behind my silence, grasping my hand and ushering me out the door with the other stylists hovering behind us gushing about the dress and my appearance.

The area Shoko led me to was crowded with dark carriages decked out with dark wreaths and equally dark horses that were both majestic and terrifying. Tributes loitered around their respective carriages, stylists adding final touches to their faces or fluffing up their costumes with meticulous care. The air was thick with tension, eyes darting to all the different faces they'd be facing in the Arena and sizing them up. I felt more than a few eyes drilling into me, but Shoko's hand in mine kept me grounded, so I continued to stare ahead with a bravado I did not feel.

"Where's Muta? He's not here yet?" I asked, glancing around for the younger boy.

"Your mentor should be around with him soon," Shoko said, halting by what was assumed to be District 7's carriage. "Stay here. I'm going to go get Suguru; he might have some parting advice to give you before you ride out." I nodded, signaling I'd heard her and she walked off, weaving between the bodies skillfully before she was out of my sight.

Hearing a snort, I directed my attention to the horses. The one closest to me seemed to be peering into my soul, black eyes like an endless void, but so expressive and vibrant with life. Hesitantly, I slowly held a hand out, watching it crane its neck to sniff it experimentally. Its nose felt weird on my skin, rough but soft at the same time, snuffling cautiously before snorting and shaking its head. I took that as a cue, fingers grazing up its thick neck and back down in slow waves. The horse seemed to enjoy the ministration because it rounded on me once again and leaned further into my hand. Giggling, I applied more pressure and was rewarded with a heavy sigh.

Horses were common in District 7 as they made pulling carts much easier, but they were working horses and hardly ever used for relaxing or pleasure riding. The poor creatures hardly ever had actual time to themselves. They were worked tirelessly, but with as much thanks as District 7 could give them. Belatedly, I wondered what it would feel like to ride one.

"You're Suguru's, huh?" Startled, I flinched away from the horse and whirled around on the voice, shocked that I hadn't heard his footsteps creeping up behind me. This man was the literal epitome of exotic. I'd never seen anyone with white hair before (I had a hard time believing it was dyed, it looked way too natural on his features to be fake), but I was surprised at the blindfold that hid his eyes from me. A new Capitol fashion trend? He grinned, enjoying the surprise clearly painted across my face. Oh, that smile was lethal. "Definitely Suguru's," He chuckled. "District 7's Tributes are always so jumpy."

He was on a first name basis with Geto, so a mentor? He looked just as young as Geto, more full of life and cheer than I expected a mentor to have.

I took immediate offense to his remark, retorting, "You snuck up on me. I'm surrounded by enemies right now and you expect me to not be a little twitchy?"

"Having some sense of awareness would do you some good," He advised. His grin never left his lips; if anything, it seemed to grow wider. "Or you could just relax. That might help, too."

"How can anybody relax in this situation?"

"Easily," He said. He leaned closer, arching his back so his nose was level with mine. He smelled like cologne, heady and thick and masculine. Shivers raced down my spine and he smirked, noticing my shoulders shift upward in a tense motion. It hit me that he knew exactly what his closeness was doing to me and had no shame in exploiting it. "You can start by telling yourself you're the strongest one here among these specific Tributes."

"It's fairly obvious I'm not," I said, uncomfortable with his proximity, but refusing to back away. "Have you seen the build on that District 1 boy? He'd have no problem wrapping his whole hand around my throat."

"Talk like that will just cement your death in the Arena." He tilted his head, white hair shifting with the movement. "Little word of advice, Wild Eyes: confidence goes a long way here. Show that you won't be cowed by your adversaries, and you'll be surprised at the results you'll get."

Something about his flippant personality rubbed me in all the wrong places. It was like a poker was being held close to my face, the heat from the burning metal scorching my face but not actually burning my skin. Too late, I began to wonder why he was even bothering talking to me.

"You're scoping me out," I realized, eyes narrowing. "You're digging around for information to give to your Tributes."

"So what if I am?" His returning grin was predatory, almost shark-like in its intensity. "Does that bother you?"

Unable to take it anymore, I took a step back, scowling darkly at him. "As a matter of fact, it does bother me," I said coldly. "You're not my mentor and I'd appreciate it if you'd mind your own business and worry about your own Tributes instead."

"But I am worrying about my Tributes," He said. "Scoping out their competition will help them survive the Arena." He was being truthful, but his tone was off, almost trilling in a way that sounded like...

"I don't appreciate your teasing," I retorted hotly. "Go scope out the Career Pack Tributes if you're so concerned, but quit making fun of me and get the hell out of my face."

He reared back, mouth dropped open just the slightest bit before his lips curved up and a laugh escaped him. "She has claws!" He exclaimed, hands landing heavily on his hips. "Suguru's gonna have fun with you, Wild Eyes." Chuckling under his breath, he turned and waved lazily over his shoulder. "I'll be seeing you around, I think. You're too funny to not see again."

"I don't particularly want to see you again!" I objected loudly, glaring at his back.

"I see Satoru's already on the prowl," Geto sighed, sliding into place beside me. His hands were shoved deeply into his pockets, dark eyes locked onto the shock of white hair that weaved between the carriages. "Do try to ignore his teasing. I promise he's harmless."

"That's Satoru?" I questioned. "The one Shoko told me about?"

A long-suffering look crossed Geto's face. "Shoko's also been running her mouth, too, I see." He directed a gentle smile at me. "Pay both of them no mind for right now. Right now, we need to focus on getting you both through the Tribute Parade." A glance back showed Muta already in the carriage, arms crossed and glaring straight ahead. His outfit was similar to my own, except he wore pants and was shirtless with only bands of leaves criss-crossing across his chest. I caught the silver scars that marred his skin before I quickly glanced away, not wanting him to notice my stare.

"Is there anything you want Muta and I to do when we go out there?" I asked.

"Smile," Geto said immediately. "Don't wave like the other fools, but do your best to project a benevolent aura. We're not going for mysterious here. Rather, I want you two to project your characters to the best of your abilities."

"So calm and serene?" I listed, thinking before giving a decisive nod. "I think we can do that."

"The Capitol will eat it up," Geto affirmed, facing me now. "They can never resist such theatrics." Dark eyes scanned my attire for the first time, lingering on the gap in my midriff and the way my skin sparkled with the glitter Shoko had applied. Remaining still, I waited for Geto's appraisal to reach my eyes. When they finally did, I cocked my head to the side silently. His eyes softened at the question there. "Shoko's intuition was right, as usual," He said. "The Capitol will love what she's done." He stunned me when he reached for the wreath on my head, plucking one of the purple flowers out and proceeded to carefully weave it into the belt of leaves around my waist.

"You look beautiful," He murmured, so quietly I almost didn't hear him, but hear him I did and there was no controlling the flush that crawled down my neck. A gong suddenly echoed out, Tributes startling at the noise before hurrying into their respective carriages. Geto glanced at the gate beginning to open before ushering me up into the carriage, Muta reluctantly offering me a hand up when I couldn't step up despite gathering my dress up away from my bare feet.

"Remember what I said," Geto reiterated. "Smile, no waving." He stepped back after pushing the edges of my dress closer to my legs, offering a supportive smile. "Good luck, you two." The carriage gave a jerk and we were off to face the Capitol.