He finds it on his second day in the arena, and he can't believe his luck.
After scrambling away from the cornucopia with just an empty canteen and beaning two or three very confused people over the side of the head with it for defense, Hamano Kaiji figured that he didn't have a huge chance of surviving, so he might as well have fun with it. And he does in those first few hours- following the Careers {from a distance, of course. He may be District four, but he's certainly not a Career tribute.} and keeping tabs on his own district partner. They're very well stacked it turns out, Tsunami, two district two boys {Kidou, he hears one of them say.} one district one boy, and the district one girl.
But the fun only lasts until someone notices him, and after that it's back into to endless brush of nettles and needles that scratch at his skin and tear at his clothes.
The arena is full, Hamano finds, with brush. Not so much trees, but bushes and brambles and all sorts of things you'd find in a forest. He thinks so anyway, because there aren't a lot of forests by District four. Pine cones and acorns mysteriously litter the forest floor with no apparent source, and the brush rustles loudly with the warm wind.
The occasional leaf floats across his vision, and Hamano makes it his mission to chase after and catch them the first few times. It only lasts until the dark-skinned boy runs out of energy, and tapping his empty canteen against his side, he continues on, guided by the leaves.
Really, he would love to find some sort of water. He could fish; he could boil the impurities of it away and drink it, and it would certainly make him feel a little more comfortable before his inevitable death. But he's not seeing any, and the end of the first day is fast approaching.
He knows this because it's getting darker, and the nice warm wind is slowly turning to a darker, colder version of itself that sends a shiver down his spine and gives him goose bumps. So Hamano shrugs, pulling on the zip up sweater that he had so carelessly tied around his waist in favour of rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt.
It's been a while since his mad run after leaves, and he's regained enough of his stamina to jog as the sun's going down. He hums into the night despite his surroundings- a cheerful tune in fact, and grins to himself.
It's just then that an interesting thought pops into the dark-skinned boy's head. He's got to be upsetting the Gamemakers. And that thought triggers a shiver down his spine, but it's not from the cold. That also stops the upbeat tune for a few moments while he thinks about the implications of that. Here he was, in a life or death situation, skipping around and smiling, laughing right in the face of their deadly bloodbath and chasing carelessly after leaves. …Hamano's face changes from a slightly worried and thoughtful frown, to an almost face-breakingly wide smile.
So he was being rebellious by being happy about his imminent death, huh? How about that. Just as the Distract 4 boy's about to keep going, the anthem blares and scares him half to death. The skinny boy jumps at least a few feet into the air, before finally looking up at the sky.
He figures this sort of ragged grassland is a good place as any to settle for the night- heck, he really doesn't care. He'll be dead in a few days anyway. So the dark skinned boy sits down, legs crossed, and leans back casually, using his palms to hold him up.
The faces of the fallen appear in the sky, the ones who didn't survive the Bloodbath and didn't have the sense to get out quickly and evade the careers. Hamano watches, but doesn't really see anything too notable.
One from District 3, one from 7, one from 8, one from 9, both from 10, one from 11… and… and… That's it? Brown eyes widen thoughtfully. Usually there was more than that... But only seven deaths on the first day seemed somewhat uplifting to him. With so many tributes prowling the arena, Hamano wouldn't have a problem finding a capable killer that was fine with a nice, quick kill. No pain, no resistance, just an end.
He would rather someone kill him before the hunger and thirst does, anyway. Slowly, Hamano sinks down, folding his hands behind his head, and stares up at the beautiful fake stars as he allows his stomach to voice its emptiness and discomfort. Eventually though, he gets tired of his body's complaints and slowly closes his eyes.
Maybe, if he was lucky, death would come to him in sleep.