Description
There was a ritual in it, Satoru thought - buttoning up the nicest shirt he owned, freshly ironed with the wrinkleless slacks he only ever took out for that day. He brushed his hair out in soothing, repeated motions. Once, twice, thrice; over and over as he breathed deep and slow. He was a metronome, following the tempo of his anxieties, preparing for the day to come. As he slid his round, blacked-out sunglasses on, he couldn't shake the feeling something truly terrible was about to happen. He tried to ignore it, hoping he was wrong - that it was just paranoia. He'd never been wrong before. He knew he wasn't wrong this time. ☆ It was like waking up and feeling like the air had changed. Or how some describe how they know when a family member has passed before someone breaks the news. Suguru felt like his lifeline had been trimmed. Like something beyond decided that today would be his day. The final step. And his actions hadn't helped. Since last year he'd stacked the odds against himself, putting ticket after ticket into the reaping for another bag of grain, another piece of meat. It kept them fed, but the cost was coming. He knew. He just did. ☆ or; alternating pov hunger games au
Chapter One: Avarice
