Training Outfit Hunger Games Novels & Stories

I continued calmly, “then I’m going to dress like a girl who has nothing left to lose.” Chloe blinked. “What?” “A change of clothes. Something simple. Something appropriate for someone in last place.” Her lips parted slightly. I pulled out a pair of structured, charcoal-gray trousers and a high-collared tunic made of heavy, durable fabric—plain, neat, and modest. No embellishments. No attempt to impress. No attempt to belong. It was functional. It was sharp. It looked more like a uniform for a soldier than a garment for a girl waiting to be chosen.

“You are summoned to the training yard at the ninth bell. Dress in the provided garments.” He set the tray on the small table and left without waiting for a reply. The door locked again. Caelan stared at the food for a long moment before forcing himself to eat. He needed strength, even if every bite tasted like ash. Beside the tray lay folded clothes: loose black trousers, a fitted gray tunic without sleeves, soft leather boots. No collar of rank. No insignia. Just enough to mark him as tribute, not servant, not noble. He changed quickly, folding his old clothes neatly on the bed. The new tunic clung to his frame, exposing the lean lines of his arms and the faint scars that crisscrossed his

I was so excited to see them in action. I washed up and went back to my room. The games were starting soon and I was running a little late. I was planning on doing something special with my hair today… This was my first time seeing so many warriors in action and it felt like my whole life has led up to this point. I could not imagine something more spectacular! And hopefully next year I will get to join. But today, I will dress the part and support my brothers and this pack my family belongs to. I freshen up and get dressed in long black sport leggings with some mesh cut outs, paired with a matching sports bra that has criss-cross straps. I put a black sport shirt over to cover my open abdom

Today was the day I was supposed to join the training. I pushed aside the soft, delicate dresses that Jay liked me to wear, and I reached for the boldest, most commanding attire that I had, a warrior set that was made especially for a Luna—it was sleek, it was imposing, and it was made for battle. The dark material, a combination of leather and light armor plating, was embroidered with intricate designs that featured gold and silver, all signs of power and dominance. The attire fit me to perfection, hugging my physique not to highlight its beauty but its power, which was something that Jay hated.

I just finished my lunch, and as I place the tray on the bedside table there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find a box placed in front of my door. There’s no note or instructions, so guess they think I’m seasoned enough to not need it. I take the box inside, place it on the bed and open it to find a full lycra spandex bodysuit with my codename printed on the back. The traditional uniform of The Tournament. Every competitor is required to wear these. We are completely covered from head to toe, concealing our identities from spectators. The only part of us that is visible are our eyes, and that’s only so we can see what we’re doing.

Lei wanted to cry. Aren’t you going to give me food at least?! My chest is already touching my back! Do you want me to die from hunger?! Five minutes later, Lei came out with a sour face. He was wearing the ripped jeans from before, a fitted black vest, a black weapon holder around his waist, black short boots, gold wrist band and a white hooded overcoat. The overcoat was light, in an umbrella-like style. It has no sleeves and has flowing edges, its length covering up to his knees. The collar fits perfectly around his neck with a single button with some kind of symbol holding both ends. The front have a slightly diagonal cut, exposing a little of his inner clothes.

So I start changing. I shrug off my dress and for a moment, I see an image of my mom popping a blood vessel, screaming at me for yanking off a designer gown. She’s not here, so I just ignore the thought. After neatly folding the fancy dress, I set it down on the bench beside me. Then I pick up the training uniform Evren gave me. It’s a simple pair of black shirt and loose camouflage pants but it feels comfortable and functional. The shirt clings a little too tightly across my chest, and the pants don’t sit the way I’m used to. I’m not sure if they’re supposed to ride this low on the hips or if they were made for someone taller. Either way, I don’t hate it.

“Because I do not intend to.” I stood and went to the wardrobe. My dresses hung in neat rows, fabrics in soft colors that once made sense for a Luna. Today they looked ridiculous. I pushed past them and reached for the darker section: the clothes I wore when I was running, fighting, bleeding. Black cargo pants. A fitted top that allowed movement. A leather jacket reinforced at the shoulders with light armor plates. Contemporary war, not some pretty fantasy ball.

She was already dressed for the training, wearing dark, fitted trousers, sturdy boots laced tightly, and a sleeveless top that left her arms free. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, and she turned and crossed to the closet, disappearing inside. When she returned, she carried a bundle of clothes. "It's your training gear," she explained, placing it on the bed. "There are several sets. You can order more if you want."