Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This wasn’t exactly what he liked doing every day, but sometimes coming to rest underneath the quiet branches of the trees was an experience rewarding in itself. To contemplate the way that the world had confined them, never relenting, constricting and strangling freedom to its death — to renew the anger that had settled inside of him — to make amends and apologize to the family that he had left behind.

He felt the wind, arcing across the pastures, and he turned to watch the grasses and grains sway beneath the battering gusts, burnt stalks falling easily within the strong currents. The sun beat down on the fields, dry and scalding, and after a while he shifted to better catch the shrinking shadow of his protector, mindful of the position of the sun.

The sun...was so bright. So cheerful, so warm, even though the world was undergoing (recovering from, according to the world’s resident bastards) an apocalypse. Like the smiling faces that would have awaited him, if it hadn’t been for the Capitol. Just like Mika, who had been the first to befriend him at the orphanage, where every war orphan had resided. So bright. Their bond...had been very precious.

The world back then had been, although desolate, a world where he still had his second (and truest) family. His family, which had gone through the most horrible times in history with him — who had given him reason to allow himself to smile during the middle of the worst rebellion in history — who had stayed with him and welcomed them into their circle, even though he was a foreign entity, a trespasser from the unknown. Who had led him out of the orphanage when it had been toppled by the Capitol’s attempt to bring order back into the world. A strike too fast for District 13 to prepare their nuclear weapons in retaliation.

And they had been destroyed as effortlessly and brutally as a piece of paper impaled upon broken scissors. He could still see them in his nightmares, mouths agape, sightless eyes staring dully at the skies, blood spilling from their voiceless lips. Remembering Akane, who had been shot through the head and been stepped on, kicked at, as if she were mere livestock. Fumie, who had been torn down as she ran for her life, amongst children who didn’t even know what it was like to live yet.

They had died as well.

And always, always, always, he would remember Mika. Mika, who had shoved him aside and taken the blow aimed at his best friend, chest impaled by the knife that had probably torn through several major blood vessels (that the Peacekeeper had thrown at him, the damned Peacekeeper, the Capitol should just die.), bleeding out on the ground as he whispered for him to just run, run out of the district, find a new life and live, because that was what everyone would’ve wanted you to do.

Then he would smile, just like that, as if there were nothing wrong with the world. There would be that stupid, stupid smile, painted on his death-pale face, fringed by blond hair that was sticky with crimson liquid.

He let out a breath, suddenly feeling constricted with guilt as he hugged his knees to his chest, green eyes cold yet troubled (I left Mika to die, I left him, it’s all my fault and there’s only one thing I can do to make up for it). Allowing his head to rest on top of his knees, he spoke against the worn cloth, uncaring of the fact that he was talking to himself. It didn’t matter anyway — not a lot of people came out to work on these kinds of days.

Mika would.

He sighed again. His heart felt unusually empty.

“Damn it, Mika,” he bit out. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll avenge us all. For you, and our family. I promise. I promise that I’ll get our revenge for us.”

“I promise.”

“I…” It’s a promise!

A flash of that playful grin.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. This was the portion of his life that he set aside to think every day, but right now, it wasn’t the time to think about this. Remembering his family was very, very important, but he also needed to continue brainstorming ways to actually overthrow the Capitol. It wasn’t like he didn’t do that twenty-four seven already, but it was extremely necessary. Revenge was his priority, because what else could he give his family, who weren’t even here with him any longer?

Because, he thought, frown set carefully in place, just swearing to get revenge for them wasn't going to be enough. He needed to actually set a plan in motion. However, District 12 was too far away from the central government for him to even manage to get close to it. And the Hunger Games had been postponed for the time being, since the population needed to recover in order for the Capitol to continue receiving their rich finery and fancy foods. Their undeserved finery.

Even when they had a surplus, all they did with it, according to several victors who had stayed in District 13 temporarily for the rebellion, was go to the restroom, take a vial with genetically engineered microorganisms in it, and vomit all of their food up so that they could go back and gorge themselves on their overflowing supply of genetically engineered food.

His scowl grew deeper. What a waste. If the Capitol had bothered to help its citizens, it would have given the future of their race their extra food, so that they would survive and live on. Instead of puking up their innards and eating more of the surplus, they should have given it up for a better cause, because whenever he had heard of the kind of diet that the people of the upper class had, all he could remember were the hungry cries of his family, when the director had been killed. She had been a mother to them all; her crippled body, lying in an ocean of red, was never going to erase itself from his mind. He doubted that any of the others would have been able to, either, if they hadn’t all been murdered by the lapdogs of the Capitol.

While they had tried to survive on their own, he and Mika had turned to stealing food, making sure that no one else knew, in fear of discovery and punishment. Akane and the rest of them had taken to begging on the streets while the war raged on (while the rations had all retraced their routes and went back to the soldiers to be uselessly consumed and taken away from the rest of the people). They hadn’t deserved to die by the hands of a drunk Peacekeeper who had decided to kill them all simply because he’d had a shot too much that night. Speaking of alcohol, even that was stupid (spending money on entertainment? Entertainment?). Anything could have fed his family. Frankly, it pissed him off.

(In reality, the only reason why he had gotten so furious over their waste of food was because of Mika, Akane, Fumie...all of the children at the orphanage. Why did they have to die? They didn’t deserve it. None of them did. Even if he and Mika had admittedly stolen food, why couldn’t he have died instead, in the place of Mika? Mika, at least, didn’t deserve to die.

But he had left him to die. He was the one who made the decision. So he was the one who had to make amends.)

It had been four years already, but he still couldn't let it go. The Capitol had killed the only people who he had ever cared about, and that would never change. He would definitely get revenge for them. Yuu wasn’t someone who mindlessly broke promises.

After all, rumor held that the Hunger Games would be coming back this year. And though every whisper and terrified glance thrown backwards at the innocently shining spire of the Capitol were fearful and apprehensive, Yuu was going to take that as his chance.  

Deciding that he’d done enough for the day, Yuu stood up and walked away from the giant tree, passing by several people on his way back who avoided him like he was the plague, evidently having sensed his less-than-peaceful-mood. He couldn’t help but snicker as he approached his temporary shelter — after he’d come to this district, he’d made it clear that he wasn’t there to make friends, and no one had bothered once the initial rush of the first week had passed. The only form of recognition he received nowadays were fleeting, slightly apprehensive glances, which were perfectly fine to him. As long as they didn’t bother him, he was fine.

(Well, barring that one strange girl who kept on making fun of him. She was the mayor’s daughter, but she was so unlike a typical mayor’s daughter that he’d often felt the urge to fight her. That...definitely wasn’t a good impulse to have, was it. And then there was the fact that she, like him, stood out among the people of the district. She had purple hair. Purple hair! What kind of person had purple hair? Had she really never gone to the Capitol before to get her hair dyed in their strange colors? Yuu couldn’t really throw away the idea, though it was seriously scary.)

Nevertheless, if he were completely honest, he admired that hypersensitive trait of theirs — and it wasn’t just because of the fact that he felt mightier and more powerful being feared. Even though this district usually never did any special training, the senses of their people were strangely acute, and he’d picked up this ability a bit after moving in, though his own perceptions weren’t as good as the natives. It could probably be attributed to the fact that most of the people in this district worked out in the fields, and either communicated daily with nature or labored in silence. Anyway, Yuu just thought that it was a pretty cool trait for a district that hadn’t ever really rebelled against the Capitol until Katniss Everdeen had stepped in, though it supported itself perfectly nicely. He supposed that was why District 11 had more victors than most non-Career districts did.

Or, at least, had come closer to winning than some of the other poorer areas.

Sometimes, however, he couldn’t help but wonder if Mika would have liked this place, what with its agricultural industry, fruit-bearing trees, and meadows that sprung up in the spring, dotted with flowers and viridescent green grass. It wasn’t exactly a paradise either, not when its Peacekeepers were extremely strict with the harvests and tortured anyone who took more than they were supposed to, but District 13 had been even harsher on its residents with all of its regulations and secrecy, and they had all grown up in that place. It was kind of funny now that he remembered the way he used to act, Yuu thought with a smirk. He hadn’t changed that much, but back then, he had been completely ambitionless, and had wondered, innocently, what he would do when he grew up.

And now, he knew exactly what he was going to be doing. If everything went correctly, he’d die with his wish and promise fulfilled, living and dying to see the Capitol fall. Once that had happened and his purpose was satisfied, he knew that he wasn’t going to have anything else he wanted to do. After all, the only real reason that he was alive right now was his desire to destroy the Capitol and bring it crashing down, the same way that they had brought their orphanage crashing down. Every day, in order to renew this fury, he came down to this particular tree to think about it. Since he always did this after his shift, the Peacekeepers didn’t do much to bother him except keep a closer eye on him, always lurking around the fences to survey their subject of interest — who stuck out like a sore thumb in District 11, though he’d tanned after staying there for a while.

He didn’t mind their silent presence. It meant that they feared him, and that made him feel one step closer to his goal (which was looking closer with each passing day). It would mean death for both he and the Capitol, but at this point, he didn’t fear death any longer. When he died, it would simply mean that his life was over, and that he had finally joined Mika and his family, where he belonged.

With a smile, he pushed open the door to his home and stepped inside, taking off his shoes and setting them down to step onto the cheap wooden floor of the apartment, which creaked ominously with his every step. Taking his customary walk around the perimeters of the apartment to make sure that nothing had been disturbed, he entered the only other room in the apartment, pulling the door closed behind him as he approached the long wooden staff balanced precariously against the dusty windowsill. Picking it up, he took a couple of experimental swings at the makeshift dummy that he had constructed from a fallen tree that had been cut down after it was deemed incapable of bearing further fruit.

But he knew that he could make it bear fruit for the last time. The fruit of success, birthed only from the death of its host.

Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, Yuu swung the staff down hard, succeeding in making a few large splinters fly off of the surface of the trunk, which flew straight at him. Deducing immediately that he wouldn’t be able to block such tiny things (he could almost hear Mika saying, with his trademark grin, “Ah, Yuu, you’re not as empty headed as usual, are you?” and felt his resolve strengthening further), he veered off to the right, where he had conveniently forgotten that the window had been. He groaned in pain, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“Ow…”

He just knew that Mika would have been laughing at him if he were there. Grimacing in pain, he stood up again, determined to do this correctly. It was what he did after returning. He needed to make at least one dent on this tree in order to even have a chance at bringing the Capitol down. Never mind that he didn’t have any training — his rage would fuel him enough to kill them all. He was confident that with enough dedication, he would be able to do this, even if every person stood against him (which they wouldn’t, because no district, save for the Career districts, wanted to be under the control of the Capitol again). He would continue scraping by, continue earning enough money to keep himself alive, and continue training himself. It was all for his family, he told himself. All for them.

With a determined snarl, Yuu leapt forward again, raising the wooden staff high above his head and bringing it down with his full upper arm strength.

This was going to work.

Chapter Text

Present time -- District 13, near town square.

Sometimes, Mikaela couldn’t really distinguish the difference between the thin line marking the boundaries between “life before Yuu” and “life after Yuu”. A while after he had screamed for Yuu to leave him, the boundaries had blurred together to form the long period of life named “life without Yuu”, which had resulted in the rapid deterioration of his previous state in permanent cheer. It was ungrateful of him to not be thankful of the fact that the universe had spared his life, but he had survived by mere chance. The drunk Peacekeeper had left him in the dirt after kicking him around for a while, he’d been bleeding to death, and everything had been unnaturally bleak, except for the warm red liquid that had been spreading through the front of his shirt and dripping onto the ground. It had been so cold.

At the time, Mika hadn’t thought that it would be so bad to die. Yuu had gotten away; he was sure that he could be happy just knowing that at least one of them made it out and survived. Mika knew, in the back of his mind, that once he died he would never be able to come back and protect his best friend, but at that moment, the only thing he’d been thinking was Yuu is safe, Yuu is safe, Yuu is safe. Everyone else had died — he hadn’t been able to save them — so knowing that one life had been spared, he’d been ready to die, teetering right on the edges of reality and the reaches of the afterlife.

He’d been so close.

Then, right before he could lose consciousness, a hand had placed itself over his chest, running over his body, looking for a heartbeat. Mika hadn’t reacted much — he’d been too injured and exhausted to do so — but when their hand accidentally brushed the deepest part of his wound, he made a weak sound of pain. Thinking back on it, he was now sure that that noise had saved his life, because his heartbeat had been so feeble that they wouldn’t have felt it otherwise, however hard they tried.

It was ironic, that a Peacekeeper had saved him from dying at the hands of another Peacekeeper. He didn’t know if he resented them or not for stealing him away from the beckoning grasp of death, since everyone else had died (he still remembered the weeks afterwards, when he had cried, and cried, and cried to himself, unable to sleep, unable to do anything but curl up on his side and cry). But they had taken him away from death, and that was that. When he asked the Peacekeeper why, why would they save someone who was as good as dead, why would they save a mere citizen of District 13 in times of war, they had replied with a simple “We don’t want people getting the wrong impression of what Peacekeepers do, would we? We are, after all, Peacekeepers!”.

It was a given that Mika hadn’t really believed him. Instead, he decided to hold faith in the notion that this particular Peacekeeper was just another naive person with a hero complex who took the title of “Peacekeeper” too seriously and wore it like a prize. If he were honest, though, the world would probably be better with people like him. No matter how arrogant and stupid they would turn out to be.

Then he would remind himself that Yuu was still out there, somewhere, likely swearing to bring the end of the Capitol and kill every Peacekeeper. And seeing as Mika knew him so well, he was sure that Yuu’s motive for doing this was to get revenge for their family, which he believed to all have been massacred back in their home district. Punishing the Capitol for what they had done. Making them pay for every problem that their greed had caused.

Mika wanted, so badly, to go and look for him. It wasn’t healthy for Yuu to be doing this, and he needed to stop him.

But he couldn’t. It wasn’t even because of his heavy injuries, which had scarred and healed in the four years that he had been alone. It was more because of the place where he lived, specifically known as District 13. He seriously hated the way that District 13 enforced its laws, especially in these times, where keeping its former regulations would not help it at all. The Capitol had already raided and taken their nuclear weapons away, so they were incapable of retaliation -- thereby rendering regulations ineffective. Mika could even bet that they’d make District 13 join the Games this year, to make them pay for the trouble they’d caused. The Capitol's primary goal had been replenishing the population after the previous rebellion had happened, and now that humans were flourishing again, it was doubtless that they would again start the Games.

To remind them who was the predator and who was the prey.

Deciding, finally, to get up, Mika stared at the blank white wall for a couple more moments before he threw the covers off, stepping onto the floor and dressing quickly in his normal citizen’s attire. Suppressing a yawn, he folded the blankets neatly and left a note on the drawers stating where he would be going today, as to not worry his current guardian — “current”, because his foster parents didn’t often like him, even though when he was younger at the orphanage, he had been a popular candidate for adoption due to his exuberant personality and cheerful exterior. The only reason why he hadn’t allowed them to adopt him was because he told the director that he needed to stay for his family. Abandoning them would have been a selfish attempt to find freedom.

Exiting from his temporary home, Mikaela stepped off from the small porch (the entirety of District 13 had been forced aboveground after their complete and utter loss to the Capitol) and headed straight towards the newly constructed collection of buildings, stopping in front of a center and putting his arm underneath a contraption on the wall. He watched listlessly as the little device flashed and scanned a pattern onto his arm, leaving a tattoo newly burned on his skin. Its design was about as pretty as it was on every other day — a winding schedule of writing and scripture.

Just another routine to follow.

Regardless of that, Mika was up seriously early. He hadn’t been given any tasks to perform before seven o’ clock a.m., when he was supposed to go and get breakfast in the dining hall along with the rest of the population. Taking his arm away from the machine, he left to veer off towards the town square, where they used to sell newspapers until the Peacekeepers had gotten ahold of them and threatened to murder them if they didn’t stop “broadcasting and sharing dangerously volatile material that should be kept under wraps at all times”. Obviously, Mika hadn’t let them know that he had heard every word, but then again, he was one of the only people who got up at five in the morning, barring the shopkeepers of course. Partly because his dreams haunted him, and partly because he couldn’t really sleep when he was always wondering how Yuu was doing.

At least he would be safe from the reaping that was bound to occur this year. Since Yuu was probably either living out in the woods or in another district, he would either be completely excluded from the reaping or would be an unknown illegal immigrant, which was dangerous, but also assured his safety. It was a double-edged sword. Then there was tesserae, but he wasn’t too worried about Yuu signing up for more tickets to be added into the bowl under his name, especially if he was living in a larger district or wasn’t even in a district in the first place.

(Partly because Mika knew that Yuu had too much of a one-track mind to pay enough attention to the news to hear that tesserae was an option. It was kind of sad how much he believed in his best friend’s intelligence, but it was the truth.)

Intelligence aside, there was another reason why he was relatively confident in his best friend’s chances of survival. Mikaela was sure that since he had been recorded as the only survivor of the “accident” that had happened that night, Yuu had been signed off as one of the many dead in District 13 — and seeing as there had been a war going on then, it wouldn’t have been too surprising to find another person on the list. No one would care enough about him to keep track of his status, either, so they would have just taken one look at his name and put him down as dead. That alone would keep him away from the Capitol’s records, which would further extend to their reapings, official list of all living natives, and any other interesting events that they decided to hold. It wouldn’t even matter if the reaping that would probably happen this year made the citizens sign in to it, because the population of Panem was too large for the Capitol to pay attention to one person who was supposed to be dead (and they only really did a thorough scan every decade, if what one of his former guardians had told him the truth). And then there was the fact that they weren’t allowed to just immigrate to another district, because that would mean that they had bypassed the fence that separated and isolated districts from one another and from other worldly contact. Taking all of that into consideration, Yuu could not be reaped. Simply put, it was impossible.

Knowing this made Mika feel a lot better. Now he would just have to deal with his best friend’s thickheaded stubborn streak. Hopefully, Yuu wasn’t stupid enough to think that volunteering was an easy way to destroy the Capitol, because if he did, Mikaela would hunt him down and kill him himself. Or, well, not kill, but he would give him a good talking-to. A heart-to-heart conversation, one might say.

Mika shook his head in exasperation. Volunteering was honestly the worst thing he could do, especially since he was an illegal immigrant, and would make him a gigantic target from the beginning even if you took into account that the Capitol could theoretically do nothing until the Games started, as he would be one of their famed tributes. The true root of the problem, however, was that being a tribute meant an assured chance of having their records dug up, since the Capitol’s stranger folk enjoyed accessing their profiles for entertainment and "fan" reasons.

Mika was very, very scared of what would happen if they discovered that Yuu was supposed to be dead. Everything, absolutely everything, hung on Yuu’s decision. Mika could do nothing but hope that he would see sense.

Allowing his eyes to travel over to the space where the newsstand had used to occupy, Mika was unsurprised to see nothing but a slightly dusty corner scattered with small pieces of ripped paper. He assumed that those were the remnants of the newspapers, and though they probably weren’t going to be current, he picked one up, turning it over carefully in an attempt to interpret its contents. It displayed exactly the same things as it always did — didn’t say anything about anyone being found outside of the districts. Mika supposed that it was a good thing that there weren’t any news about Yuu. If there were, he would have been bundled off to the Capitol, where he would undeniably rage, turn into the most reckless idiot in all of Panem, and get himself killed in the process while failing to even become a martyr since the Capitol would probably cover it up. The nation was still extremely unstable in terms of unity and the Capitol was very aware of that fact. They weren’t dumb by any means.

Walking away from the square, he wandered aimlessly around the district, taking in the sight of the still-unfamiliar assembly of buildings that the Capitol had constructed for them. Though they were relatively new, having only been around for three years, they were already looking worn-down — proof of what kind of durable materials that they had been made from. When they had been erected, the only thing that the Peacekeepers made sure to let them know was that “they were creating sturdy structures in which to work and live in”, as well as that they were supposed to be grateful for their assistance, especially since they were so kindly supporting the same district that had trained their guns upon them and caused both major rebellions. Mika could grudgingly admit that that was true, but one particular building that had been constructed (or reconstructed, he should say) had been the Justice Building, which had been destroyed for decades and decades already. He could take that as proof that the Hunger Games would be held this time, after being held off for a couple of years to encourage the rehabilitation of the dying population.

Well, even if he were reaped to become a tribute, Mika already had some skill with swords. Mostly through learning with one of his older foster parents, who had been a sniper that hunted for District 13 before the Capitol had come and attacked them. He had actually liked him because that foster parent in particular had disagreed strongly with the Capitol’s rules and had first attempted to teach him how to aim with a bow (gunshots would be too loud and attention-sparking for any efficient practice to take place) for the simple reason that maybe he’d get to use the knowledge.

Unexpectedly enough, Mika had failed miserably at it.

After that, his parent had proceeded to laugh at him for a few seconds, then settled with giving him a stick and telling him to attack him with it. He allowed a small smile to slip onto his face as he remembered his own half-reluctance to hit his guardian, and their resulting shit-eating grin as they drew out another staff from nowhere and hit him none too lightly on his back. It had hurt at the time, but it had instigated him to retaliate.

Obviously, Shinya had still come out the winner. Mika had been left groaning, glaring, and with his pride shattered into tiny fragments. Shinya had exited the room, calling cheerfully behind him that they would do the same thing tomorrow.

His time with him had really been nice.

And then Shinya had left suddenly, disappearing without a trace except for a small, neatly folded note that he had left on the top of Mika’s drawer as a pitiful substitute for an explanation. It had asked him to go and find the orphanage again and tell them that he had to go back, because he wasn’t going to be able to stay in District 13 any longer to watch over him. It had also included an apology, along with a hastily written side note explaining that he had left a practice staff with him to continue using. The last line had told him to burn the note.

So Mika did, with vigor and ferocity. He hadn’t been able to believe that Shinya had just left him to fend for himself, but he had. They had shared a bond so reminiscent to that of his old family that Mika had nearly believed that maybe, just maybe, he could live with this.

Then he’d been abandoned for the second time.

Now, he was just being passed along from hand to hand. His current parents weren’t horrible, but he could tell that they didn’t like him. After all, he was just an extra mouth to feed who happened to know a few things about fighting. He wondered if they would have wanted him to compete in the Games, if this hadn’t happened in District 13. Even if he were reaped, hopefully the Capitol didn’t broadcast other reapings at the same time. If there was one thing that would cause Yuu to volunteer, it would be seeing a friend get reaped.

At any rate, it wasn’t something to worry about right now; the reaping was ages away, according to the times when they had usually been held. Turning back, Mikaela walked towards his home, feet moving across dusty concrete as he returned, finished with his “leisure activities” in the morning.

When the reaping came, he would just have to hope for the best. Yuu had better not be stupid.

Chapter Text

Two months later -- District 11, outskirts.

Usually, the sound that he woke up to was the singing of mockingjays along with the whispering of the wind, breezing through the tall stalks of grain. Today, however, he was awoken none too peacefully by loud yelling and the distant noise of a gun firing. Instantly alert, Yuu catapulted himself off of his bed and poked his head out of his window, craning his neck in an effort to find out what was going on. He wasn’t wearing any clothes other than his bare essentials and honestly, it was kind of cold, but he didn’t care. Upon looking around, however, there was nothing. Even dark, it was eerily quiet as opposed to the way that District 11 was alive with noise. Many of the inhabitants worked overtime in order to support their families, after all, so Yuu couldn’t just believe that they had all decided that yesterday had been too tiring for them to continue. Something big was happening.

Turning away from the window, Yuu wrestled with his curiosity for a few moments, gave up, raced to get dressed in the same clothes that he wore every day (yes that was disgusting and yes he did not care), hastily splashed his face with leftover water from the river (which he had gone out of District 11 to obtain — another illegal maneuver whose consequences he did not care about), and sped out of his creaky wooden doors. They swung slowly and made sad noises in his wake, and he was halfway across the fields before he realized that he’d forgotten to lock them and retraced his steps, locking it quickly with his rusting key and running back towards the source of the noise. Yuu had no idea what was happening today, but under normal circumstances it would either be because someone had been caught taking extra food or had done something illegal, or something else that wasn’t supposed to happen but did because the perpetrator had been exceptionally stupid. Or, well, there was an important event happening, but Yuu didn’t really know why it would happen so early in the morning (the sun wasn’t even out yet) or why the Peacekeepers would need to use their guns.

They hardly ever used their guns for the right purposes, though, so maybe they were just shooting innocents for the fun of it. He wouldn’t be surprised. The excuse of overpopulation was always their story, even when the last few years had been spent replenishing the population.

Finally emerging into the town, where the commotion had originated from, he reached the square and then halted abruptly, surprised. There was a whole crowd of people there — close to the entire population of District 11 — who surrounded the bottom of a raised podium, on which no one was standing on. So it wasn’t a whipping or an execution, but something else. Yuu hadn’t really been paying attention to what went on in District 11 recently, so in hindsight it wasn’t that unheard of for him to have no idea what was happening, but how had he missed something as big as this? From what he could see, the square was filled to the brim and overflowing with people. He hadn't seen so many people gathered in one place ever, especially since he had been raised in District 13, where reapings were replaced by rebellions. For another, though they were called up occasionally to attend a mandatory assembly, even the entirety of District 13's community didn't make up half as many people as District 11 held. Scanning the surroundings again, he was still clueless about what was happening (reapings weren't supposed to be so disorganized, were they?) and decided to just hang out around the crowd. He made a mental note to go out more. Not to obey the Capitol, but to find out more ways to overthrow it. If the event related to the government of Panem in any way, it would be worth it to have more information on it.

This plan failed immediately when he felt the barrel of a gun tap sharply against his shoulder. Freezing slightly, then glaring at the Peacekeeper, Yuu crossed his arms. "What was that for?" he snapped, unable to hold back the growing note of irritation coming from his throat. He already knew that they liked shooting people for fun, but seriously, what had he done? Killed their pet rabbit?

"Don't you get smart with me unless you want to die an early death by the hands of my gun. Now line up where you're supposed to be," the Peacekeeper responded in equal exasperation, clicking his tongue in resignation. He looked more bored than anything, and Yuu felt his spark of irritation grow into a bonfire.

"I don't even know what's going on, you trigger-happy..." Yuu racked his brain for a good insult, eyeing the Peacekeeper’s shifty appearance. "...blind bastard!" Wow, that was kind of long. It fit the dude, though, so that was okay.

The Peacekeeper's grip on the gun tightened and he pushed the barrel of it closer to his temple. "You really want to die right now?" he growled.

Yuu smirked. This was going to be so good. "What, did I stomp on your pride?"

He could see the Peacekeeper straining to keep his cool. Unable to resist the temptation of insulting him further, Yuu opened his mouth to deliver a bruising follow-up and had only just spewed out the first word of his death sentence when a hand placed itself on his shoulder. Whirling around to face the perpetrator, unaware of the fact that the Peacekeeper had only narrowly missed blowing his brains out, his face fell upon meeting the matching smirk of a purple-haired girl.

The Peacekeeper instantly recognized her as the mayor’s daughter and wondered what he was supposed to do now. Yuu ignored the Peacekeeper’s attempts to interrupt, offhandedly pushing the gun away and giving the girl a weary expression.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said despondently, unable to keep the note of reluctance out of his voice. She simply leaned over to him and placed her hands over her chest in an exaggerated dramatic pose, feigning hurt, though her eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief.

“I’m so hurt! Don’t you love me?” she asked, hands still placed on her heart. The most innocent of innocent smiles was plastered on her face, but Yuu swore that she was the child of the demon. He vaguely wondered if her parents would gut him for saying that about their precious child. Speaking of her family, no one ever saw them around. Yuu hadn’t ever seen them either. Luckily enough for them, Shinoa knew exactly how to access the black market and weasel stuff out of it without too many consequences, and probably held relations with many of the officials that visited there. Yuu wrinkled his nose.

Pushing the thoughts away, Yuu responded. “No,” he deadpanned, utterly unamused. “Please, Shinoa.”

The Peacekeeper looked downright confused, and attempted to insert a word in their conversation, but they were fixated on each other’s words, exchanging sarcastic blows and tired rebuttals.

(To be honest, it was mostly one-sided on Shinoa’s part, but she didn’t really care. If she could do this to someone all day in every week of a year in eternity, she would live in joy for the rest of her life. Besides, Yuu was just so easy to tease! Occasionally, though, she did want a different person to shove around. Some variety would do her good, and Yuu’s reactions got dull after a while.

Well, he was good enough for the time being.)

Quickly getting tired of the nonsense spewing out of the two children’s mouths, the Peacekeeper fired his gun into the air, causing the crowd to instantly go quiet. Shinoa and Yuu quieted down along with them, and the guard sighed, tucking it away for the time being.

“That’s better. Now, line up where you’re supposed to be!” he snarled at Yuu. Turning to Shinoa, he barked the same thing. “You too, young lady!”

“Right, right.” She winked at Yuu and shot him an evil grin before sauntering off to join her line. Once she had gone, Yuu breathed out a sigh of relief. Unluckily for him, the only thing that the Peacekeeper saw was that he still wasn’t moving.

“Move to your line. Now.” The gun was back in his hands. Yuu merely blinked.

“Yup, trigger-happy,” he said under his breath, not bothering to hide his voice. The Peacekeeper’s fingers twitched on the trigger, but he didn’t pull.

“Move. To. Your. Line.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t even know what we’re doing,” he shot back, completely unfazed by the cold metal pressing into his hair. “You probably would have known that if you weren’t so focused on using your oversized toy all the time. I also think that you should apologize for firing so many unnecessary shots and scaring the people here.”

The tension increased. “And why should I listen to you?” the Peacekeeper hissed, digging his gun into Yuu’s hair. A couple of seconds later, he let out a breath. “If you don’t know what’s happening, you really must be daft. This is the pre-reaping. The same one that happens before each Games in District 11.”

Yuu instantly straightened up, alert. “The pre-reaping?” he repeated. “Last I heard, the Hunger Games hadn’t even been confirmed. You aren’t pulling my leg, are you?”

The Peacekeeper’s face contorted briefly before he twisted his mouth into a grin. “I am most certainly not. The Hunger Games were confirmed several months ago, fool. Pray for your life, because I’ll be hoping that you get reaped this year. Obnoxious brat,” he muttered to himself.

“Damn right I’m an obnoxious brat.” I’m going to be the one who brings the Capitol down, and you’ll get to have tickets to the front seats. “I’ll be the same obnoxious brat who proves all of you wrong. And…” he tilted his head backwards, eyes sharpening malevolently. “...don’t you worry about hoping to get me reaped.”

He turned and took long, purposeful strides towards the seven different lines reserved for each age, settling himself smack in the middle of the twelve-year olds’ line.

The Peacekeeper, unfazed and completely done with the way that the upstart had been acting, returned to performing his tasks in his assigned area. The thoughts that occupied him for the rest of his time on duty involved shooting the boy to death, taping his smart mouth, and simply getting rid of his voice. This resulted in him snapping at anyone who didn’t line up immediately and brandishing his gun quite a bit more than he usually did. He wasn’t sure if he was reacting unnecessarily powerfully or if he was actually raging, but it led to a build-up of frustration that immediately attacked his nerves and caused him to lash out at anything, animate or inanimate.

Unfortunately, a life was a life, so he couldn’t do that. And even if he was so irritated that he wanted to strangle him right then and there, it would be a further insult to his pride and self-control, and that wasn’t something he could afford, considering that his job amongst the Peacekeepers was extremely important. And he dared not lose his cool for a single instant.

It was imperative that he didn’t appear out of place, though he was sure that most would have shot the youth standing in the twelve year olds’ line by now. He sneered at himself. He was too soft — couldn’t kill an innocent, even if he hated them. One more thing for him to fix on his long list of imperfections.

Tugging his military hat lower to cover his hair, he left, disappearing in the crowd, gun neatly tucked away and glasses flashing against the dimly lit square before he was gone, as nothing more than a presence that had stood on-guard for the citizens of District 11.

Just another Peacekeeper.