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My feet drag behind me, opening the door to my house. Nobody’s home, I can tell by the silence. A sigh of relief falls from my mouth as I place my bag on the floor and close the door.
Today’s reaping day.
My parents always go on ‘business trips’ the night before, but I know it’s just so they don’t have to see me. It still hurts whenever they do it, no matter how used to it I am. I could die, the least they could do is say goodbye.
I pray they’ll come back for me. I know they won’t, deep down. But it’s better to hope than to not, right? That’s what I’m thinking as I walk along the hall, counting the doors until I reach my room.
It’s cold, a little messy, but … it is mine. That’s more than what I can say about the rest of District 6. This room is my own little space, the one place I feel safe. I guess it’s a little silly for one room to be my favourite place in the world. I’ve always been a little silly, though. That’s what Akane describes me as.
Akane is, to put it simply, my best (and only) friend. She’s been there ever since I was 8, when I tripped over my own shoelaces and she helped fix up my scraped knees. We’ve been pretty close ever since. Sometimes, I think she’s the only person here that actually cares about me. But, then I think about it, and I know I’m wrong.
My parents care, I’m pretty sure that lady at the candy store cares about my money, and, um … well, Akane cares too. That’s at least four. It’s better than nothing, I think. Slowly, I shut my bedroom door behind me, as if to not disturb anyone. It’s a habit, even when the house is empty.
Before I can walk away from the door, a series of knocks interrupts me. I was hoping to get at least one moment of loneliness before the ceremony, but it’s not a big deal. When I open the front door, I see a round, kind face awaiting me. Akane.
“Yuki!” She says, smiling as brightly as she can.
Her hair is tied up into a bun, she’s wearing a lavender dress that goes down to her knees, there’s a bow around her waist and she looks really pretty. Guess that makes sense, for reaping day. You’re told to look your best, because it might be the last day of your life.
“… Yuki?”
Her eyebrows furrow in concern, as I snap back into reality. A sigh falls from my lips.
“Sorry, Akane. I’m just … really tired, you know me.”
Her hands reach for my shoulders, brown eyes staring into mine as her nails dig into the fabric of my sweater. She shakes me, lightly, a frown on her face. I feel bad, making her this worried, but I’m always like this.
“… It’ll be over before you know it starts, okay?”
Surprisingly, she manages to smile. As if to comfort me, to tell me that it’ll be okay. Of course, she said it with her words, but … the smile is much more meaningful. I manage to nod in response.
“Yeah. I know. It just … never gets easier, even if I’m used to it.”
I’m sixteen now. So is she. Two more years of this, then we’re out. Free of the reapings, safe from the Hunger Games. But we still have to watch. I think that's the worst part about it.
She purses her lips, seemingly in thought. Before the smile leaves, replaced with a more quizzical look.
“After the ceremony, we’ll go to the little candy shop you like, okay?”
Last time we went to the little candy store, my mother caught us. She scolded me, yelled at Akane and grounded me for a whole two months. It was probably my only act of defiance, as she called it, ever. I’ve not been allowed to go since.
“But, Mother said-”
“Shhh! I don’t care what she said. You’re allowed to have a treat once in your life, right? I think you’ll have earned it, anyway.”
And she flashes me a smile. Her smile, one more real than any I’ve seen from anyone else. It shines at me brightly, mischievous as it always is. I’m bound to give in.
“Okay. Just this once, though.”
She giggles, nodding profusely. I think we both know it won’t be just once. Akane reaches to grab my hand, pulling me out of my house. I raise an eyebrow, but she places a finger over my lips and continues to smile.
“We’re going to the reaping together. Whether you like it or not, we are.”
I let her drag me along the paths as she waves to people she knows. Her other best friend, Ayame, lives around here. We’ve spoken, but we’re barely acquaintances. Mostly because she’s way stronger than me, and I’m kind of intimidated by her. She’s nice! Just … not for me.
The walk to the centre of town is longer than I remembered it to be, but I can’t tell if that’s because she’s waving to everyone or she wants us to have more time together. They separate us by gender, after all. But, no matter how hard she tries, nobody can escape the reaping.
We make it there, and she pulls me into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder, I can see my parents, standing quietly together. They don’t see me. I bite down on my lip, holding onto my friend and patting her back.
“You’ll be okay.”
I manage to say, attempting to pull away but her grip is as strong as a vice. Akane’s always like this today, holding onto me to keep me nearby. She’s scared, terrified even. Her hands begin to tremble against my back, and I know I can’t soothe her.
But, I can try.
“There’s candy after this, right?”
I mumble, getting her to look up at me. Teary eyed, she sniffles and a quiet laugh escapes her lips. Unfortunately, I have to step away for the ceremony. So, I pat her back again, and take my leave towards the boys section.
It’s awkward, as they take my blood. It never isn’t. I wish I could say it got better with age, but I just got more quiet. The woman pricks my finger, expertly taking just that right amount of blood before wrapping it with a small bandaid and shooing me off. I stand at the edge of the fourteen to sixteen section, in a line. Kids younger than me stand so close, I can’t bear to look at them.
It hurts, knowing that they could be taken away today. I don’t know them personally, but it still feels so wrong. How could they let kids this young be forced into something so vicious? My heart aches. And, before I know it, the Capitol’s propaganda video is playing.
This is the 48th Hunger Games. They’ve been airing these for 48 years. Our district hasn’t had many victors, but the ones we did have haven’t been seen in a while. I can’t say I ever blamed them, though. Those games are horrific, I don’t know how anybody could just go on like normal after it.
“Welcome, welcome! It’s time to commence the reaping of your two tributes.”
A chipper voice, one with a smile in it speaks. A man, with a half mask covering his face, grins onto the crowd. Well, the mask does it for him. This is our escort, Mikado Sannoji. He lives to take us to our deaths every year. It’s sadistic, how he can smile at us like we’re lambs to the slaughter.
But, the way he speaks makes you feel like it’s an honour.
“As always, we start with the women.”
He walks over to the bowl, and I cross my fingers tight. Please don’t say her name, I couldn’t do this alone, I pray. My heart stops as I listen to the crinkle of paper, the way he steps back to the microphone, clearing his throat.
“Komaru Naegi!”
My heart resumes, and I still feel a pang of guilt. I know her. Not personally, but I’ve talked to her before. Her brother stands so close to me, hand over his mouth in shock. She’s so young, only 13. There’s no way she could win.
Deep down, a feeling of relief flows through me. She’s safe, this year. I spare a glance over, seeing Akane and Ayame in a tight embrace. I don’t need to tell her she’s safe, because I don’t have the time. Komaru has taken her place on the stage, shaking.
“And now … the men!”
It’s louder now. My heart thumps and all of a sudden, I’m aware of everything. The steps he takes towards the bowl, the rustling of the slips of paper. I have 5 slips in there, one for each reaping I’ve survived. There’s a low chance they’ll pick me, I know that. Still, that creeping feeling of anxiety manages to grab me from behind.
I’m painfully aware of how he walks back to the microphone, holding the unlucky name of the boy going to die. I wish there was an easier way to say it, but there never is. Whoever gets called out is going to lose his life, watched by the country. His last moments will be someone else’s bet.
He opens his mouth to say the name. I can feel the boy to my right tense up. I’m about to do the same when the words cut through the air.
“Yuki Maeda!”
That’s my name.
I’m going to be a tribute.
It’s going to be me, in that arena. Alone, dying with the entire country watching. With Akane watching. I hear a scream, someone calling me. It’s her, I know it is. But I can’t turn back. I breathe in, steadying my nerves as I walk up to the stage.
Before I can make it, someone grabs my arm. Her nails dig into my skin, a desperate grasp. Just like when we hugged before the reaping. She’s teary eyed, again. I can't meet her eyes.
“You … you don’t get to leave me here.”
Her voice is trembling. I can already see peacekeepers coming to grab her, drag her off. There’s no time. Not for a proper goodbye, anyway. I say the only thing I can really think about right now.
“I’m sorry.”
Akane jerks in response, pulling my arm towards her, shaking her head. Before the two peacekeepers can reach her, Ayame runs over and grabs her by her free arm. Despite how much she cries, screams for me to stay, I know I can’t.
“Helloooo! Yuki, up here! Haha, what a display.”
I make my way up the stairs, hands trembling at my sides. I glance over to Komaru, who seems to be sobbing now. She barely looks at me, but when she does, she seems to sob harder. I think we both know what’s waiting for us in a week or two.
“Please welcome the tributes for the 48th annual Hunger Games!”
He claps for us. I can still hear Akane wailing, but I can’t focus on her. It’ll be difficult. Instead, I scan the crowd to find my parents. I see them, hiding their faces behind their hands. Not in sadness, no, in shame.
It takes everything in me to not cry right then and there.
“… Tough crowd, as usual. Come along, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”
A peacekeeper grabs my arm and drags me along. I’m put into a quiet room, the windows shining down on me. Like they know I won’t be able to see the sun again after this. Apparently, tributes get 5 minutes to say goodbye to their family members. I doubt either of my parents will be showing up, so it’s just going to be me and Akane.
It’s going to be hard.
The door creaks open, and I can hear someone shout “3 minutes!” from behind. Before I can register it, a suffocating pair of arms have grabbed me. Akane’s here. I choke on my own spit, unable to return her embrace.
I can see Ayame in the doorway. She offers me a sympathetic look, but she says nothing. I nod to her, as my friend sobbing into my chest manages to speak.
“Promise me …”
She sniffles, moving her head from my chest to look up at me. Her eyelashes are wet with tears, her trembling figure clutching onto me like a lifeline.
“Promise me you’ll win.”
My heart stops. I stumble over my words as I shake my head.
“I can't do that.”
“You can. I … know you can.”
The only thing I can win is the spelling bee, and I’m too old for that now. I can’t win this. I know I can’t.
“Akane —”
She shushes me, grabbing my jaw and pulling it towards her face. Her eyes stare into mine.
“You can do this. If not for you, for me. Please, Yuki.”
To win the Hunger Games means something, to people. It means you have to be strong, courageous. After you win, they take you and broadcast you over the country. Like … a trophy, of some sort. I’ve heard the worst stories.
Could I do that? Live through the pain of outlasting 23 people, killing at least a few of them, then ‘celebrating’ my survival with people who wanted me dead?
It sounds awful.
But, as her eyes bare up at mine, my heart breaks. She wants me to live. And, as her best friend, I can't let her be sad. I just can’t.
“… Okay. I’ll try.”
She can’t smile, but she nods her head, pulling me into a tight embrace once more. I hug her back, looking over to Ayame. I swear I can see her mouth ‘good luck’ before two peacekeepers storm into the room.
“Time’s up.”
They say, and Akanes face falls. One of them has to pick her up, because she refuses to leave my side. I swear the way her nails drag against my skin will never be forgotten, for as long as I live. Even if that’s on a time limit now.
Like I predicted, my parents didn’t visit. They’re probably hiding from the shame of it all. I wish I could say I don’t care, but I do. A lot. It’s all I can think about as we’re whisked onto the train.
It’s quiet, for a little. Komaru and I sit in the train, next to each other. They’ve told us that our mentor will be here, but I haven’t seen them. I’ve heard that there have been two victors from our district in all of the years. That doesn’t mean they aren’t dead, however.
Before I can really doubt it, a door in the train slides open. A woman steps in, looking to be from the capitol — until I spot her black roots coming from her perfect blonde hair. They’re faint, very, but I’ve always had an eye for things like this. She seems to be our mentor.
She looks over us, tapping her fingers against her glass. That’s when I recognise her. Emma Magorobi, winner of 44th Hunger Games. She won at 15, which is the youngest age a winner has been. I think she was the most bloodthirsty non-career, killing at least 6 tributes. Watching her, it was scary. How could someone so young kill so many people? How can someone so bloodthirsty be only a few years older than me?
“Emma?”
I ask, but she seems to pay no mind. Instead, she turns to Komaru, putting a hand forward to stroke the tears from her cheeks. Slowly, she looks up to our mentor, shaking. But, before she can do anything, she begins to speak.
“I can’t promise you a victory. But …”
She clicks her tongue, eyes looking to me then her.
“I can offer you enough for you to survive the bloodbath. You can only pray your deaths will be slow, after that.”
Komaru sobs harder as Emma continues to wipe her tears. But, as she realises it’s no use, she sits across from me instead. Her gaze is a mix of sympathy and pity. Her hands fold in her lap.
“What was your name?”
I sit up, stumbling over my words. I almost forgot my own name.
“Yuki. I’m Yuki Maeda.”
She nods, mentally noting it down. Emma smiles at me sadly. We both know I won’t be living past this. I glance over at the sobbing Komaru, feeling a pang of guilt. I wish this could be different. My mentor clears her throat.
“I saw your friend, yelling for you at the reaping.”
Friend doesn’t seem quite right anymore. She was the only one to visit me when I left. If that isn’t family, I don’t know what it is.
“No, she’s … she’s my sister.”
Emma’s eyes widen, before she smiles again. It’s almost one of understanding.
“I see.” And, as if she knows what Akane made me promise, she says, “I’m going to get you to survive that bloodbath. For her, yes?”
My breath catches in my throat. I shake my head, hands already starting to shake.
“I can’t — I can’t win this.”
“Ah-ah-ah, I didn’t say that. We’re making you someone. Not just a face from the masses, someone noticeable. The Capitol will know you before you go in, I promise you.”
She pauses, the sobbing of Komaru filling the silence. Emma purses her lips, turning her focus to the girl. Young, unstable, so unprepared to die. I feel awful just looking at her.
“… I can spin something for you two, I’m sure. I’ve done it before. I can get you sponsors, but I need you to work with me. Can you do that?”
This means dying with dignity. Dying with something behind me rather than nothing at all. I’d rather that. I nod at her. She smiles, looking over to Komaru. The young girl hesitates, before she nods too.
Emma seems pleased with that.
“Okay! Good. We can work on it tomorrow, but … you two look exhausted. Please. Get some rest.”
Slowly, we both seem to rise from our seats and make our way to the cabins. There’s one for me and one for her. I’m grateful we don’t have to share a room. I was never good at that.
The second I get into the room, I collapse onto the bed. A breath I didn’t know I was holding in escapes me. I know it’ll be over soon, and for that I’m thankful, but … I can’t help thinking that I don’t want it to end so soon. I know Akane doesn’t, either way.
I have to try to be someone, there.
If I can’t win, I can at least do that.