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——
An Shiraishi wasn’t made of sugar, Ena knew that since the day he met her back in the seam.
Constantly picking fights against bullies and sticking up for smaller kids, An had spunk, Ena had that impression the day the little girl helped her brother out when he was being picked on. She still remembered Arata scolding Akito on the way home for getting into the fight, only to soften when they both heard Akito gush about how “cool” and “pretty” the girl who helped him was.
The kids that were Ena’s age never liked Akito. Maybe it was his vibrant hair, his determination, his joy.
The seam was a dull place, as was all of district 12.
And yet Ena could see the child-like admiration Akito held towards the black haired girl since the day of her 5th birthday party. Well, she saw the admiration the day the girl was born, and Ken Shiraishi held her up to the hospital room window for all the kids to see, so proud of his daughter despite her just being born. Akito, only 4 months old, couldn’t stop looking at her. However, that birthday party five years later was what truly made the ginger’s adoration evident.
It was a quiet gathering with kids from school. The entire of district 12 loved An Shiraishi, despite her flaws and unwavering kindness to those who deserved it. Ena always never understood it, why An was so loved for her joy, yet Akito seemed to be outcasted for his.
And yet, Ena understood why Akito fell for An at the ripe age of eight, closely followed by his love for two other kids their age, Kohane and Toya. Polyamorous relationships were almost unheard of in district 12, but they were still there, still prominent.
It took Ena longer to understand the other two. Kohane and Toya were both from the town of district 12 rather than the seam, and to Ena, all town kids were rich and snobby. Despite that image she held in her head, she loved the two just as quickly as she did to An.
They made her baby brother happy, after all. It was clear by how he was always dropping one of the three off home after hanging out all day, how he often came home wearing one of An’s plastic hair clips (where did the girl even get those…?), how he took a random interest in the “aesthetic appearance” of places thanks to the dirty blonde.
It didn’t matter much to Ena. His happiness was all that mattered to her in this crappy world.
——
Akito was shitting himself, to put it lightly. But the older kids in town told him that was a common feeling each and every reaping day.
He worried more for An than the other two, she had more slips in the bowl than all three of them combined, a common courtesy of having to take out tesserae for food after what happened to her pa and brother.
A mining accident, as common as they may be, were never often fatal as this one. Her pa survived, thankfully, but he was never the same. Her brother, Aoi, didn’t make it. An’s pa said he had been unrecognisable when they managed to pull him out, and An had never been the same since that day.
He, Kohane and Toya tried their best to make her happy, obviously, but it seemed like a bit of her never healed that day. Made sense, though, the two siblings were like peas in a pod before his passing, almost always attached at the hip when An wasn’t with the three.
Akito still remembered the nightmares the girl woke up with whenever the three of them had their weekly sleepovers. She’d wake up in a cold sweat, bawling her eyes out while clinging onto one of them, begging for a brother who wasn’t here anymore. Akito wanted nothing but to take her pain away.
As Akito stood next to Toya, frozen to their places as the escort of the year (there was a rotor each year for which escort would be forced to deal with the “crummy excess that was district 12”, this years being Makoto Asahina, a wretched old woman who loved the thought of others suffering) picked the names out of the bowl, he almost sank to the floor with relief when nobody he knew was reaped.
At the ripe age of twelve, Akito survived his first ever reaping.
——
At fourteen years of age, An had already been told what to do in the event of her name being read out at the reaping.
”Don’t show a reaction”, said Aoi, brushing her hair and styling them into the plaits she loved, “Don’t give them any type of weakness that they can use to exploit you.”
She just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
Naturally, she knew the odds were far from being in her favour this year. With it being the 50th Hunger Games, it was a special one. Each 25 years, there was a “quarter quell”, which led to a twist in the rules of the games per year. This year, it meant there were four tributes from each district instead of the usual two. That meant one boy and one girl. In An’s eyes, she might as well have 8 slips in the name bowl instead of the usual 4, because her chances of getting picked were doubled, just like everyone else’s.
The Hunger Games were an annual event. Each year, on the Fourth of July, kids are chosen from each district and are forced to fight to the death for the entertainment of the Capitol. It came to be after the districts tried rebelling against the Capitol 50 years ago, as a way to punish the district’s for their choices.
An thought it was bullshit. Her generation wasn’t even involved in any of that, but she digresses.
Standing there next to her girlfriend, she assumed it’d be normal. That nothing would go wrong. She was ready to go back to the field just outside of 12, to lay in the grass with her three lovers, sharing kisses and gumdrops and anything else they felt like.
”And the second girl joining Airi is…An Shiraishi!” Makoto beamed with a sadistic smile An knew she only reserved for reapings, or when any form of despair was brought upon district folk.
She felt all the eyes of the girl’s her age around her. She saw the cameras turn to her in the corner of her eye, already imagining the Capitol people dissecting everything about her appearance and personality, though that was if they took any interest in her.
From a young age, An had been praised on her abilities to put on a good act, to deceive people with her emotions, and now was no different. She put on a stone cold face, emotionless, untelling, and dislodged her fingers from Kohane’s trembling grip.
The blonde gasped and grabbed her arm, of course she did. An turned around, flashing the girl her signature cocky smile, albeit shaky and wobbly, before pulling her into a hug, whispering soft reassurances.
”It’s okay, love. It’ll be okay. Breathe, Koha.”
“Don’t react. It’s what they want. They want a show, don’t give them it.
She sat there, cradling one of her loves in her arms until she felt a Peacekeeper, one she recognised for previously trading with her brother at the hob, gently grabbing her arm and pulling her away.
Kohane made a start. To fight? To scream? An didn’t know, but she couldn’t help but sigh in faint relief when Shiho slapped a hand over the blonde’s mouth, pulling her into a hug to muffle her cries.
Staggering forward, forcing her feet ahead of her one calm-looking step at a time, her calm, collected facade shattered when she caught the eyes of Akito and Toya, looking at her with fear and despair. She couldn’t bring herself to smile, only able to mouth the words, “I love you” and forcing herself not to start bawling when the boys’ eyes flooded with tears.
Nonetheless, she finally forced herself to keep working, her worn down black shoes padding against the dusty cobble below as she practically walked to her own death sentence.
Kids under 15 never survived the games. It was unheard of. And with An being a year and a half younger than the youngest known victor? She knew deep down her odds were against her. She was really, truly, fucked.
Standing next to Airi Momoi, An couldn’t help but shuffle awkwardly. The older girl had a reputation among the seam-folk for being nothing but rude and, quite frankly, bitchy, to all the kids at school growing up. She was in the year group 2 years above An, and the black haired girl only interacted with the other once.
It wasn’t the greatest of first impressions, to be honest.
And yet, it was like the older girl had a change of heart, with the way she death glared any peacekeeper that stepped too close to An, barely paying any mind to the seam girl’s bewildered expression besides a firm nod that immediately made An put her facade back up, going stone faced once again.
“And now, for the men!” Makoto cooed out, as if addressing a puppy or a little kid who had just earned a reward. An swallowed the bile in her throat, trying to stop her head from spinning as the purple haired woman moved onto the next kid, like their soon-to-be non-existent lives meant nothing to her.
Of course, they didn’t, but An wishes to whoever was capable of controlling fate that they did. That the hideous woman would do something, anything to put an end to their inevitable suffering so she could just have a chance at living.
“And the first boy is…Tsukasa Tenma!”
An nearly keeled over with a gag, begging internally for her vision to stop spinning and blurring. Why couldn’t it all just stop? Her nausea was made worse when she heard the mother of the older boy scream out to her son, followed by his younger sister, only for both to be quickly muffled by her husband.
She barely registered Makoto Asahina’s words or Tsukasa’s approach until he was stood on the other side of her and Makoto called out the next name.
“And the final boy is…Kotaro Mita!”
She nearly burst out into tears right there and then, if it wasn’t for Airi’s hand on her shoulder. It was odd, having Airi Momoi of all people as a grounding presence, but that was the least of her worries currently.
Kotaro was in the same friend group as An at school, despite being in the grade above An. He often hung around with Akito, Tatsuya and the others, but adored An like the way an older brother would adore his little sister. He was like Arata, in that sense, always fussing over both her and Kohane whenever there was the slightest inconvenience.
She watched as Kotaro walked out towards the path leading up to the stage. He took one step, two — making as if to follow Tsukasa — before suddenly whipping around and sprinting in the opposite direction.
His family had a reputation for being rebellious, for being runners. Before An knew it, numerous groups of people among district 12 were shouting and screaming for him to run, cheering him on. She quickly found herself joining in, her eyes lighting up as he made it further and further away without an issue in sight.
For the first time that day, tears flooded her eyes. Not tears of sadness or despair, but of hope. Townsfolk’s bodies instinctively intercept and block the Peacekeeper’s who make to run after him, to stop him from getting away.
Just when everyone thought he might make it, when Airi’s breath caught in her throat out of pure anticipation, a shot rings out from the Town Hall’s rooftop.
An watched in horror as the back of Kotaro Mita’s head explodes into blood and brain matter.
For a second, multiple memories flash infront of her eyes, as if she was the one who was shot, as if she was the one reliving those 7 minutes of life people assumed you saw while on death’s door.
The screens broadcasting the reaping for the Capitol to see go dark for a second just as An, Kohane and numerous other’s scream for the brown haired boy simultaneously. She felt Tsukasa’s hands grabbing her, not unkind, more firm, holding her back from jumping off the stage to run over.
Obviously, they don’t want the rest of the country to get even an idea of the disorder occurring in District 12. It was common knowledge that the recordings had a 2 minute broadcast delay. As she heard Tsukasa and Airi’s voices speaking to her, it was if they were underwater. She could assume that they were probably telling her to stop, to get herself together, to not give the Capitol a reaction.
After the initial shock, she felt even more nauseous than before, but she put that facade back on.
She saw Akito in the crowd among the others, his sunset-orange hair sticking out like a sore thumb. The whole square erupts into such an intense chaos that the three reaped kids debate making a run for it themselves, knowing they’d probably have a better chance than Kotaro just did of getting away.
Some people make for the side streets and alleys and some others rush to help Kotaro, even though everyone knows he’s long past any help. The Peacekeeper’s keep firing, mostly as warning shots, to try and maintain “order”, but hitting a few at the edges of the crowd in the process.
She could practically see the thoughts running through Akito’s head in the process; ”Do I find Ena, Arata and Ma? Get Toya and Kohane and run for cover? Run for An?”.
“Who did this!?” demands Makoto, scowling as a bewildered young Peacekeeper is pushed to the edge of the roof. “You stupid imbecile!” Makoto berates him from below. “You couldn’t even wait until he was in the alley? Oh, just look at this mess!”
A mature-sounding Peacekeeper yells for everyone to get onto their knees, and An watches numbly as everyone assumes the regular position for situations like this: sitting on your knees, both hands up in level with your shoulders, looking forward. Being stood up on the stage, An hadn’t even reacted herself until Airi punched her in the back of her leg and she fell to her knees herself.
——
Arata couldn’t believe what was happening, fell to his knees next to Souma with his face splattered with his late friend’s blood. He could see Souma trembling in the corner of his eye, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.
Kohane Azusawa, ever the caring one, was stood next to Kotaro’s mom and the boy’s corpse. She was begging, pleading with a Peacekeeper to just give the woman one more minute with her son. To let her say goodbye. But they were making it pretty obvious they didn’t have one more minute to spare, if the wretched woman on stage’s ranting about ‘footage delay’ had anything to do with it.
“We’re gonna need another boy! Ugh, we don’t have the time for this.” Makoto Asahina practically whined like a spoiled child, making Arata scowl. According to her, a dead kid is nothing. Some other man who I recognised as Taiga Kotaki was calming her down and ordering around the camera crew. Right, this guy was in-charge of propoganda and media.
His head snapped around when Kohane let out a small shriek when the Peacekeeper tried grabbing her and another pulled out their gun.
Oh…
Oh.
They were going to kill her.
Arata saw Toya and Akito’s eyes widen and moved before he could even think, ripping the small girl out of the white-uniformed man’s grip, holding her to his chest as she trembled.
He kept shouting and trying to reason with them until he heard Makoto speak through the mic.
“Ah.” the woman drawled. “There’s our replacement.”
——
The last thing Airi ever expected to happen was for her to get reaped. She hadn’t even imagined that said reaping would end in someone’s death this early. She watched as the boy — Arata Touno, if she remembered anything from sharing a class with him last year — stepped up onto the stage, giving his name to Makoto and practically shoving Rui aside so he could be stood next to An.
Airi felt nothing but pity for the boy, because contrary to popular belief, she had a heart. She barely flinched as Makoto made them all reenact the whole reaping. She held her sister’s hand tightly, forcing her nerves and fears down until having to pull away and walk back onstage again.
She kept her head up high, even doing so much as glaring at the cameras. Her emotions wouldn’t be used for the Capitol pricks’ entertainment.
She was forced to watch as An was called up again, seeing the 14 year-old have to rip herself away from the blonde girl who wanted nothing but to cling to her and keep her there, keep her safe.
It all repeated like clockwork, except everyone who had acted out kept a stone cold face. Everyone knew reactions were what the Capitol folk craved. It was nothing but entertainment to them.
Then, when Arata’s name was called instead of Kotaro’s he walked right over the blood stain on the floor. She couldn’t help the selfish thought that came to mind.
‘At least they’ll remember us. Remember all of us.’
She saw the way An’s expression crumpled the second the camera’s stopped rolling, and the four of them were ripped away into the Town Hall without the chance to say goodbye to any of their families. Typically, they would all be allowed 5 minutes max to say goodbye, but Airi supposed due to the delay and the “District’s disobedience”, they wouldn’t be allowed such a “luxury”.
—— ARATA’S POV
As we were all hauled to the train, I couldn’t help but choke back a sob, desperately struggling against Peacekeeper’s to get back to say goodbye, to even get little An a chance to say goodbye to her folks. But it was no use, we were all helpless as we were dragged through the Town Hall and to the train, practically hauled on by the Peacekeeper’s.
The second the door’s slid shut and the train began moving, everything and it’s weight hit me. I began to wonder if a person’s heart could really break. Probably. Surely the word ‘brokenhearted’ had to come from some sort of place of origin.
I ran my hand through my brown locks before forcing myself to my feet, walking on autopilot. I imagined my heart bursting into dozens of ugly, gory splatters, like Kotaro’s head. The thought made me gag. Kotaro. To think we’d all been hanging out just yesterday. Having fun and laughing and chilling and—
Eventually, my breathing slows to a normal pace, but with its absence becomes a gut-wrenching sense of despair I surprisingly hadn’t felt until now.
I’ll never see Ena again. I’ll never see Ma again. I’ll never see Akito—
Oh, fuck. Akito…
I stared out of the window in the empty train corridor, everyone else having went forward to what looked like a food cart.
I look at the oak trees flying by for an unknown amount of time before eventually forcing myself to move forward to the cart. I knew An wouldn’t want to be alone in this place.
Taiga stops me halfway down the corridor, a calm smile on his face. “Ready to join the others?”
The way he talks makes me sick, speaking to me as if I had a bellyache, as if I hadn’t just been practically sent off to my death. I don’t know what to make of him. He seems unpredictable, might be best to stay on his good side.
Besides, I need to check on An anyways. I’m all she’s got now.
“Sure,” I say as Taiga escorts me to the room.
It was a posh, modern dining room we’d only heard of in Capitol propoganda interviews. Pretending not to be amazed, I slip in the empty seat beside An, across from Airi and Tsukasa.
“Anybody hungry?” asks Taiga. Nobody answers, opting to just glare at him. “Hm. Let me see what’s cooking.” He smirks before withdrawing, leaving and locking the cart door behind him.
The second he’s gone, I nudge An with my elbow. “Hey, girl.” I offer her my hand.
Her hand slips into mine, slightly trembly and icy cold. “Hey, Ara,” she whispers, “Wasn’t fair how they got you.”
For the first time since the whole thing happened, I consider this wholly.
Fair? It sure wasn’t, that’s for sure. My reaping for the games was irregular, maybe even illegal depending on who you’re speaking to. But in all honesty, the number of people I could plead my case to in the Capitol amounts to zero. There’s no saving any of us. We’re all nothing but amusing stories for Makoto and her disgusting friends to talk about between the caviar and desert trays and whatever else the posh bastards in the Capitol tend to enjoy.
I shrug to An, “Wasn’t fair for me or anyone else.” Her little face is so crumpled and sad that before I can help myself, I ask, “Whaddya say about being my ally, sweetheart?”
For the first time that day, she actually smiles. The whole sweetheart bit is an old joke. When she was four and I was six, she decided she was my ’sweetheart’ and trailed after me like a little baby duckling, telling anyone who’d listen to her adorable, tiny self. It lasted for about a month, before her platonic affection transferred to somebody else. Luckily, we stayed constant friends, considering how she quickly became best friends (and eventually lovers) with my baby brother.
If I had a little sister Akito’s age, I’d want her to be just like An, and I had always hoped that the two of them — eventually becoming four — would stay together until they grew up, then she’d become my actual sister. Now, of course, that wish was impossible. Her chances of growing up are basically impossible. She’d be forever frozen at fourteen.
Bumping her smaller knee against mine, she smiled softly, just like she did whenever she greeted me, Akito and Ena on the way to school. “I’ll be your ally,” she says. “You and me, we can trust each-other.”
In any other situation, you’d naturally think this would spark an alliance between all of us District 12 tributes, but as I look at the other two, I’m not sure that’s desirable, considering he knew nothing about Tsukasa and too much bad things about Airi.
—— AN’S POV
A day later, I found myself stood besides Arata, nervously holding his hand as Taiga introduced us to our separate prep teams, the people in charge of dressing us up for the Chariot Parade. It was the event that showed off all of the tributes prior to the interviews in about a week’s time.
I was pulled into a modern, cute room as two girls named Yuki and Mizuki got me ready, rambling about Capitol things I didn’t understand. It was nice, though. They didn’t seem like the other Capitol folk. They seemed…nice. Understanding. Normal.
Next thing I knew, I was being ushered into the main room where the chariots were. I already saw Tsukasa and Arata, but no sign of Airi.
Over the past day, I began to like Tsukasa and Airi. Whenever Makoto was rude or cocky, Airi always stood up for me, although it resulted in her being slapped by the woman one time. It was still a bit hard to tolerate her without remembering the one time she told Hane her hair was hideous, which resulted in her chopping it all off till it was up to her shoulders.
I ignore how bile rises up to my throat at the thought of any of my lovers, the thought of leaving them behind in this cruel world in a week or so.
Tsukasa’s family didn’t have the best reputation. They ran the betting business in District 12. Aoi was never fond of them or their work, often placing bets and other horrible things on tributes for others. Surprisingly, Tsukasa didn’t seem like that bad of a person, one time showing me how to play a game of cards while Arata was sleeping in for once. He always had a gentle, genuine smile on his face whenever he addressed any of us, and it was hard to hate him.
The four of us had started doing watch shifts, since Arata said it’d be good practice for when we were in the arena. It was a nice bonding activity, even if we all only interacted in pairs and for short time periods.
When Airi finally arrived, we were all ushered onto the tiny chariot that barely fit the four of us. My legs wobbled as I stepped on first, but Arata quickly steadied me. Before I knew it, the horses carrying all of the 12 chariots, one for each district, set off in rhythm and we were off.
Considering we were the last district, we were behind everyone else, which was both a blessing and a curse. For the first hundred yards or so — I don’t really know, Toya was always better at telling distance, and math in general, actually — the horses trot in time to the music blasting loudly.
Upon seeing Arata and Airi turn their heads to face one of the giant screens by the stands, me and Tsukasa do the same. I see myself in one of them, and can’t help in gasp softly with how well the two pink-haired sisters made me look. I felt…pretty.
The crowd was full of drunk Capitol-folk, hooting and hollering. It almost reminded me of whenever Ma used to get drunk at Seam weddings, spewing out nonsense until Dad would drag her home. For all the rumours you hear about them, the audience smells like the trading centre in 12 on a rough Saturday night, which gives me an unfortunate melancholic feeling in my stomach, mixed with a weird feeling of dread that I can’t place the origin of.
It’s hard to ignore the weird mobs, but the four of us seem to hang in there, with all of us relatively clinging onto each other.
That’s until someone in the crowd launches off a firework, spiralling right in-front of our horses, exploding into a bust of blue. They lose it, plunging in all directions.
I’m knocked to my knees, barely hanging onto Airi as the horses break into a horrific, manic sprint. The crowd’s entertained cheers make my stomach churn as we veer around the District 11 chariot and barely avoid a collision with District 10’s, who’s horses have also already gone rogue.
I can hear myself screaming in fear. Something tells me internally, ’This is it, An Shiraishi. You’re going to die. You’re going to die like Aoi and there’s no one to save you.’
As I feel us roughly collide with 8’s chariot, their spiked chariot wheels close in on ours and I slip out of Airi’s grip. I see Arata lunge for me as we all practically go flying and I’m screaming.
I know I’m screaming because I can hear it and I’m scared and I want to go home. I reach for him too because I want to live, that’s it. Is that such a bad thing to wish for?
I hear the collision before I feel it, although I don’t really feel it at all. Everything feels numb as I hit the pavement, but I feel a little sting when what feels like a horse’s hoof stomps straight ontop of my head, sealing my fate.
Taking my final, shallow breath, I feel liquid pool around me and slip from somewhere inside my head. Is stuff supposed to come out of your head…? Who knows anymore? I know I don’t. I can’t do much anymore.
Hm. Is this what dying feels like?..
I want my mom and dad…
I want Toya…and Kohane and Akito…
I wanted to grow old with them…I wanted to be with them forever…
…I’m tired. I think I’m gonna sleep now…
…
”An?”
——
Shiho Hinomori knows who he’s staring at on the screen in the arena, and it isn’t An Shiraishi. Whoever this girl is, she lacks An’s essence.
For starters, on-screen, none of the three even called her An. They called her Anika.
Kohane, Akito and Toya are long gone, having been taken out of the Hob after their reaction to this girl’s appearance.
”That’s not her! Can’t you see it!? That’s not her, for fuck’s sake!”
“Look, Akito, we know, but—“
“What did they do to her!? Why…why isn’t she there!? What the fuck did they do to my girlfriend!?”
Everyone who knows An Shiraishi knows this girl isn’t her. It’s a replacement, a near-identical body double. But only Shiho knows who this girl truly is. Only Shiho has seen this mystery girl now lying dead in a patch of poisonous, bright flowers, having suffocated by the sheer amount of poison they held. Her slight, starved frame lies quiet, now finally beyond whatever suffering she had endured to ensnare her in this fate that she didn’t deserve.
Shiho knew more than anyone she didn’t deserve this fate.
”You’re leaving..?” Shiho mumbled softly, running his fingers through the dark locks.
“Mhm. Y’know what my people are like, Shii. We like travelin’ from place to place. We’d probably be shot on sight if we were found.”
“I suppose so.”
“I gotta go now. It was…nice meeting you.”
“Wait!” Shiho grabbed her wrist. “You never…you never told me your name.”
The girl paused, before she smiled softly.
“Ichika Rose Hoshino.”
—— ARATA’S POV
On the ride back to 12 after winning, nightmares came to me easily.
The strangest visit was my sweetheart, An, and Anika. The two stood wearing matching outfits, the dress made by An’s Ma that she wore to the reaping, and the exact same pigtails they wore.
“Which of us is which?” they ask me in unison, brandishing the same curious look.
But the Capitol has won. I can’t tell them apart.