There's a pervasive pain building beneath his skin, sharp and centered on a few key spots. His elbow and hip are both throbbing, there's an uncomfortable prickling up and down his spine, and he's sure he'll have a few spectacular bruises later. The cool marble of the lobby's floor feels nice on his aching head, at least. Too bad hitting the floor was what had caused the ache in the first place.
When Donnie opens his eyes again, he's flat on his back with a face hovering mere inches from his own. The brown eyes are glinting and wild, and the mouth is pulled into a snarl. The bared canine teeth are unnaturally sharp, and he can feel the threat of using them hanging over his head. He'd be more intimidated if black hadn't bled from his attacker's lips and stained their front teeth; it just looks silly now. Hot breath is ghosting over his face and he wrinkles his nose in disgust.
"Your breath smells like shit," his mouth says before his brain has a chance to catch up. Blame it on the concussion he probably has. That snarling mouth shuts tight and those brown eyes narrow dangerously. There's a fluttering inside his chest, and an aching in his lungs as his breaths come short and sharp.
"Big words for someone who just ate shit," the stranger hisses, and the pressure on his chest increases. Ah, she's kneeling on him. That makes more sense.
Donnie turns his head to find that he has an audience: Kendra, Atomo Grey, the District Three tributes, and who he assumes must be their Capitol escort are all watching them with varying amounts of worry or amusement. Atomo looks more disappointed than anything else. Donnie rolls his eyes.
"He wasn't trying to do anything to us," Gizmo says, staring wide eyed at the two of them. Donnie gives him a flat look he hopes the kid can magically interpret as grateful, and turns his attention back towards the woman pinning him. She frowns, eyes darting towards the kids like she's taking Gizmo's words into consideration. She doesn't let up, though.
"What he said," Donnie wheezes. Then, while the woman's attention is turned towards the kids again, he bucks his hips and rolls, throwing his weight and flipping them over.
The woman likely has a good twenty pounds on him, but that's fine; he learned this particular move practicing with Raph, who's significantly larger than pretty much anyone. The look of terrified shock that flashes briefly over her face probably shouldn't feel as good as it does, but that's fine, too. He lets a mean smile curl his lips as he reverses their earlier positions, leering down at her and bearing all his weight into her abdomen as petty revenge for the way his whole body is aching. She wheezes, but that sharp toothed smile is back in full force.
Then, finally, he registers who he's looking at.
"Ah." The lightbulb finally turns on. "You're Casey, right?"
Without waiting for an answer he pushes to his feet and takes several steps out of her range. She's up just as quickly, moving to position herself between the two kids and everyone else, fists raised like she's ready to fight even as she shoves them backwards. Despite the fact that there hasn't been a victor from Three since her own Game, it's like she believes she'll be able to protect them from what's coming if she can only keep them far away from their competition.
Her head is high and expression fierce despite the flash of fear Donnie had seen in her eyes just seconds before. The boy tribute clings to her arm, though it looks more like he's trying to hold her back than a matter of being scared. The girl just stands at her side, doing her best to look down her nose at Donnie despite the fact that he is significantly taller than her. He can appreciate the attempt, though. The girl seems to have the same moxy as her mentor, albeit in a much smaller package.
"Only friends are allowed to call me that!"
She's still bristling, but there's something thoughtful in the way she squints at him now. Like she's trying to place him, somehow. Donnie's not surprised that he's registering as familiar in her mind; he knows she's met his dad before, and people do always say that they look alike.
Cassandra Jones had won her game four years before. She was one of the few District Three tributes who'd managed to do so by brute force and violence instead of any kind of technological prowess. She'd celebrated her birthday in the arena, turning 17 on the third day of the game. Before the day had come to a close, she'd won in a spectacular — if horrifically messy — display of sheer determination that culminated in a blood bath that even papa had been impressed by. The whole Capitol had thrown her a birthday extravaganza alongside the normal Victor Ceremonies to celebrate, and she'd sat on her Victor's throne and stared out at the festivities with a look that Leo had gravely informed him was, "like, super creepy." Donnie had mostly thought she'd looked distant, like the wide smile on her face had just ended up there by accident and she'd forgotten how to make it go away. He tended to acknowledge that his brothers were better at reading people than he was, though, so he never said so. It would probably hurt Leo's feelings if he did, since that was really the only area where he excelled at.
The stylists had dressed her in a slinky, glittering black gown. Her makeup made her look older than she was, like they were trying to really lean into her going from girl to woman by winning. They'd also taken her long hair and woven it all throughout the spikes on her crown. It had been pretty, but it made him wonder if there was a reason behind aesthetics. When he'd asked their dad, he'd just shaken his head and mumbled something about hoping they'd never have to understand. He'd looked so sickened by the display that even Donnie knew better than to pester him about it any further.
Her hair is shorter now than he's ever seen on a girl. Shorter than he's seen on most boys, too. From what papa's told him, and from what he saw of her during her game, he thinks it suits her better than the long hair did.
Her eyes rake over him, and then suddenly she nods as though she'd figured out some great mystery. Her posture relaxed, if only minutely, but there's something sad about the way her brow creases and her shoulders slump.
"I see now!" she bellows. "You must be the purple one."
Donnie arches an eyebrow, then brings up one hand to flap the edge of the purple fabric he's got draped around his neck at her. It's still a little lopsided from their tussle on the floor Voice dripping with sarcasm, he drawls, "What was your first clue?"
Cassandra Jones bristles again, and Digi mimics her with all the enthusiasm she seems able to muster. Gizmo is now trying to hold the both of them back, and Donnie can't help but grin at the display. Kendra has sidled up to stand next to him now that the immediate danger has passed, hip cocked and arms folded across her chest. He can hear the two escorts mumbling fretfully to one another, though when he risks a glance towards them he notes that the District Three escort mostly looks fed up by this point. Probably not the first time Cassandra Jones has started fights, then.
The tension between the five of them hangs heavy in the air, and Donnie just knows that if a single one of them dares to twitch, somebody is going to end up on the floor again. His back and extremities are still throbbing, so hopefully it won't be him.
"Children!" A new voice enters the conversation, familiar, but sharp and full of an authority Donnie's never heard from it before as it cracks like a whip from behind him. The sound of it has him stiff and wide eyed, though he sees Cassandra start to smile again. He doesn't turn around, terrified that he might be wrong. "My eyes had better be deceiving me, because if you are already fighting then I will personally ensure that you receive no supper tonight!"
And, oh, that's a threat he recognizes all too well. Donnie whirls to look at District Four's mentor, and it is like the first time he was thrown into deep water. A cold rush, heart pounding, limbs shaking, death hungry and lingering all around him, but still knowing without a single shadow of a doubt that it would all be alright; that his family would never let him drown.
"Papa," he whispers, and he doesn't care if those around him hear how his voice cracks, or if they see the tears glistening in his eyes.
His father's expression goes all soft and sad as he looks at Donnie, just the way it always has on the morning of every Reaping Day. His worst fears have come true twice over now. Donnie wants to drag him close, wants to know his papa is okay, wants to—
"YOSHI!" Cassandra bellows, and nearly bowls Donnie over as she all but throws herself into his father's arms. Which, rude. He was planning on doing that!
"Casey, it is so good to see you!" His father lets her cling to him, and Cassandra takes advantage of it, holding on like he's the only port in a raging storm. Yoshi allows it for a few long seconds, then wriggles free from her grasp and holds her at arms length to look her up and down with a proud smile. Donnie's not jealous. No way.
"This is such bullshit," Kendra hisses, and she turns and marches towards the elevators, but not without giving Donnie a good shove first. Joke's on her, though, because she can't get up there without their escort, and from the way Atomo is fluttering her hands with excitement he's pretty sure the woman isn't ready to leave the show just yet.
"Rude," Donnie mutters just for the sake of doing so, watching her storm away from the corner of his eye. He can't bear to turn away from his papa, though. Some childish part of him is terrified that the second he takes his eyes off of him, he'll disappear, burned away like mist in the morning sun.
"Yoshi!" Atomo titters, striding forward and practically pushing Cassandra aside in the process. Donnie, Yoshi, and Cassandra all glare, but she doesn't seem to notice or care. She leans in to press a kiss to Yoshi's cheek, and Donnie sees his papa visibly cringe, but when she pulls away his face is open and his reproachful glare has shifted to a vapid smile. Cassandra is glowering at Atomo, looking for all the words like there's nothing she wants more than to tackle her to the floor, too.
There's a smear of purple lipstick left on papa's cheek. The sight makes Donnie's skin crawl. The sash draped around his neck feels tight all of a sudden and he fiddles with the end of it, running the well worn fabric through his fingers over and over again. Atomo is stretching up on her tiptoes despite not actually being shorter than him as she peeks around papa's shoulders, as if she's searching for someone.
"Only you this year?" She sounds disappointed as she asks. Donnie can practically hear the pout in her voice. "I was hoping we'd get to see a larger family reunion, circumstances being what they are!"
"Just me," papa confirms coldly, shrugging away Atomo's grasping claws. His smile is still dazzling and hollow as he adds, "The Capitol would have to kill me themselves before I allow Red to return here."
Atomo seems surprised by his vitriol, but Donnie feels nothing but warmth flooding his chest at the words. Raph had come so broken, the first and only year he'd been forced to return here as a mentor. He's glad that papa is protecting his oldest son as well as he can, and that Raph is at home to protect and comfort Leo, Mikey, and April in turn.
"I'll meet him some day!" Cassandra practically shouts, butting her way into the conversation once again. Then, with a grin like a knife, she jerks her head towards Donnie. "It looks like I'll have to settle for that one for now, though."
"Hey!"
Yoshi actually has the gall to laugh at that. Donnie shoots him a hurt look as he pats Cassandra on the shoulder, his movements slow and telegraphed just like he did for Raph for two full years after he came home. Donnie watches, curious despite the irritation he feels and the affronted attitude he's putting on for the onlookers. He's heard that Cassandra has been the mentor for Three every year since she won, and he'd also known that she'd gotten some help and encouragement from Yoshi on the few occasions they were in the Capitol at the same time. During the Victor's tour, he'd even requested to meet with her privately.
Donnie vaguely remembers seeing a brief glimpse of her exiting the room afterwards, face flushed and eyes puffy, but looking less despondent than she had during her wooden, scripted speeches. He knew they were acquaintances. He just hadn't expected them to be so…close. Something about it unsettles him.
"We seem to be loitering," Yoshi announces after a moment, looking between the Capitol escorts and the gathered tributes. His eyes linger on Donnie a mere second longer than they do everyone else, but he'll take what he can get.
"If we don't hurry along, we're going to bump into others," the District Three escort frets, his eyes darting between Cassandra and the little kids with the kind of worry that further cements Donnie's theory that he's not the first person that she's body slammed, and certainly will not be the last.
"Well then, let's go already!" Kendra snaps, arms crossed, foot tapping. She's refusing to look at any of them from where she's leaning against the wall by the elevator doors. Donnie is almost certain that her lips are pursed in what can only be described as a pout. Leo makes almost the exact same bitchy expression when something is bothering him but he's feeling too proud or too insecure to talk about it. The comparison makes Donnie's heart twist a little in his chest.
Papa steps forward, and as he passes Donnie he rests a hand on his shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. The warmth the touch leaves after it's gone burns as his papa walks away, barely giving Donnie a second glance. Cassandra follows close in his wake, as do the Capitol escorts. Donnie turns to watch them, but does not move from his spot. The District Three tributes both join the throng, sticking close to Cassandra's side, and the five of them make an awkward almost-semicircle around Yoshi as he moves to stand in front of Kendra. It's fascinating to watch.
Back home, Yoshi Hamato tends to prefer to be left alone. He has eyes on him at all times, of course, (it would be impossible not to, considering his past, his face, and his children) but even then he still manages to disappear into the background in most cases. His smiles are real, but are few and far between outside the comfort of his own home and the presence of family. People tend to try to avoid him, knowing what he's capable of, and how he's willing to use his skills if the need arises, no matter what or who it may be that he's dealing with.
His papa has always come across to Donnie as being so distant and lonely, but it always seemed like he was fine with that. He liked being able to disappear into his bedroom for days and not have anyone question it. He'd always seemed to prefer that the people outside of the Victor's Village not pay him any attention when he was out and about, even if that meant people only stole glances and talked behind his back.
Here, though, it's like he has his own gravity. He carries himself taller and prouder than ever despite his greying hair and the fact that he stands shorter than most the others around him, with a confidence that Donnie has only ever seen brief flashes of. The nervous ticks that Donnie has categorized and meticulously memorized over the years are milder, like he's intentionally hiding them away.
It's frightening, almost, to look at the man he's known his whole life and see someone so different from who he is familiar with. He wouldn't go so far as to say that his papa has become a stranger, but it's disconcerting to no longer be able to read him as easily as he can back home. Donnie knows, as everyone from the Districts does, that when a tribute goes to the Capitol they are expected to adopt a larger than life caricature of themself to garner attention and interest from the many people who will be watching them. He just hadn't realized before now what that would look like for his papa.
"You must be Kendra," Yoshi says, and Donnie can hear the smile in his voice as he greets her. Kendra's eyes flicker up towards his face, narrowed and dark, before they look over his shoulder to meet Donnie's gaze instead. There's something stormy in her expression; an anger directed towards the two Hamatos present that Donnie doesn't really understand. He stare back, forming himself to hold eye contact with her despite how it makes his skin prickle, and shrugs.
He's not really sure what meaning the action conveys, but it seems to soothe some of her nerves. He watches her visibly collect herself, then turn a sharp edged smile towards Yoshi. The anger is veiled now beneath the haughty persona she has been slipping into off and on this whole trip. It does a good job of hiding her fear.
"That's me," she purrs. "No need for introductions, though. I'm well aware of who you are, and it seems you're already acquainted with all of us. The sooner we're able to enjoy the privacy of our apartment, the better."
"Right you are!" Atomo Grey clucks, stepping outside of the orbit that Yoshi's created to finally make herself useful and call down the elevator. "At this rate, the District Twelve tributes will get to their apartment before we can even set foot in ours!"
The other escort chuckles like that's the funniest thing he's heard in ages. No one else sees the humor in it, though Donnie catches Gizmo looking back and forth between everyone as though he's trying to figure out if he should laugh along or not. Donnie shakes his head when those curious brown eyes fall onto him, and Gizmo nods solemnly, looking like he's just been told the meaning of the universe. From her place at Cassandra's side, Digi gives him a suspicious look.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft, melodic ding. They all pile on and stand in awkward silence until they reach the third floor, where Cassandra herds Gizmo and Digi off with a firm hand on each of their shoulders. Gizmo gives them all a small smile over his shoulder and a final wave as the doors slide closed again.