Yes, that's right, this is a crossover! If you're wondering how I got around the fact that there are only nine or so female characters, read on!~
Now, I keep writing and rewriting this next section, so let me say this: I will include whatever pairings I like on a whim. I'm not going to do everything I possibly can, because too many pairings is unrealistic. Many will be platonic and you'll have to squint at it sideways even then. So, this fic MAY INCLUDE any of the following pairings: UsUk, GerIta, PruCan, GiriPan, PoLiet, SuFin, Spamano, and AusHun.
If you notice I only use one Nyotalia character, there's a reason I included Maria. You'll see if you read through to the end.~
Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia and/or the Hunger Games, I wouldn't be here to write my epic fanfic. Because then it's technically original.
Enjoy!
District One
I've been sitting, confined in my room for hours. It seems as though everyone has forgotten to prepare for today, even though they very well knew it was coming. But I know better—I'm waiting for them to finish hetting ready, and I've been waiting for a long, long time. Honestly! All I had to do was get up a bit early to put on my blue and white dress, and a few other preparations, since it is, after all, a formal event. I suppose that's what I get for being the only one really serious about it.
I hear a familiar boing behind me, and turn around to see my distressed older sister, with tears welling up in her eyes.
"Yekaterina?" I ask, surprised. There's no reason for her to be upset that I can think of. "What's wrong?"
She bites her lip before stuttering out, "T-the reaping. I c-could be picked!"
This catches me by surprise. "What are you talking about? It's your last year, and you know I'll volunteer for you if you do!"
"Didn't you hear... the announcement?"
"Announcement?"
She wipes a tear from her eye and says,"You must have been too busy chasing down Ivan to notice its broadcast. The Capitol said... that for this year's Hunger Games, they were eliminating the gender restrictions. So it's possible for a district to send two boys as tributes... or two girls."
"What?" I scream, standing up. "So if they draw your name and I volunteer, we both go?"
Yekaterina nods, tears coming back.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I'm sorry," she replies, " I thought you knew."
I let out an exasperated sigh. "So only if brother or someone else volunteers, too..." I begin, then realize what I just said. "No! He... he can't volunteer! Then we can never be together! I-I mean... sure, it would be awful for you to have to go, too, but... ugh!"
I allow myself to slide onto the floor and cry for several minutes before Yekaterina taps me on the shoulder and says, "Natalia..."
"What?" mumble.
"Please... don't worry yourself too much over it. The chances that that scenario will play out are minute. Why don't we just head down to the reaping? Ivan already left."
"Yes!" I respond. "The reaping. Ivan's waiting for us now?"
She nods, and I instantly hop to my feet and run out the door. Behind me, I can hear Yekaterina's cry of, "Nataliaaa! Wait!" followed by lots of loud boinging. Well... I can see where her chronic back pain comes from.
Suddenly, as I approach the town square, where the reaping is set to begin in a few minutes and crowds are gathered, I spot him. My brother is, as usual, isolated from the others, standing along on the edge of the town square. I can no longer bear being separated from him.
"Ivan!" I exclaim, locking my arms around him from behind and catching him by surprise. I can feel him tense up. He never seems to appreciate me...
"Natalia?" he asks, his voice quivering.
"Did you hear about the Games this year?" I ask.
"The gender thing?"
"Yes," I reply, trying to stop myself from crying again. "I don't want either of you to go!"
"I'm fine without your help, Natalia," Ivan says. "I've been training with you, haven't I? Why are you worried?"
"Because if we both end up going, we can't be together! We can't both win..."
He groans, and makes a rather poor attempt at changing the subject, as always. "Do you mind letting go?"
"Yes," I reply. It's hard to tell, but I think he shoots a pleading look at Yekaterina, whose attention is currently being occupied by Im Yong Soo, the young man who, for reasons I can't determine, has an immense attraction to my sister. As long as he doesn't disturb my relationship with Ivan, though, I have no problem with him.
Our embrace, unfortunately, is cut short by the start of the reaping ceremony. A flamboyant Capitol man stands center stage, microphone in one hand, restless fingers waiting to grab names in the other. I'm forced to let go of Ivan and stand with the rest of the sixteens.
There's no cry of "Ladies first!" this time, like there is every year. And I know perfectly well why. Stupid Capitol. This time, he simply plunges his hand into the familiar glass bowl until he comes across one he decides to read.
"Ivan Braginski!" he reads. My heart sinks.
Win, I think. Win for me and we can be together when you return. I'm so intent on directing all my thought power at him that I hardly notice the next name he calls.
It hasn't really registered who, if I do nothing, will be doomed to participate in the Hunger Games, so I look around curiously for whoever responded to the name. Not until my sister is gazing pleadingly at me do I realize what happened. I can't bear to watch her walk up to that stage—she and I both very well know she wouldn't stand a chance out there—but it's even worse to think that my love for Ivan is star-crossed. But I have to do what I have to do, so I pull myself together and shout, "I volunteer!"
The man on the stage glances down at me. I give my sister a pat on the shoulder and walk resolutely up to him, keeping my head held high.
I will not cry. There will be no misunderstandings. No one needs to think I'm weak.
"And your name is, young lady?" asks the Capitol man.
"Natalia Arlovskaya," I say firmly, and anchor my feet next to Ivan's. The man with the sickeningly green hair looks like he's about to say something, but stops when looks at me.
"I-I suppose that's all, then! We have our tributes for district One!"
District Two
"Luuuuuuudwiiiiiiig!"
My brother's call rings loudly across the city. Too loudly. It isn't the first time he's embarrassed me—and I would bet anything it's certainly not the last.
"Yes?" I ask regretfully, taking a break from chatting with my friends.
"You ready?" he asks, ruffling up my hair, which I've been oh-so-carefully slicking back.
"Yes, but why are you so excited?" I ask, pushing my hair back into place.
"Because everyone knows the awesome Gilbert is going to win this year's Hunger Games!"
"As a follow-up to Maria's victory, huh?"
"What else?" he replies.
Maria is his twin sister—just as much of a narcissist and just as irritating. She won last year's Games, so Gilbert naturally has to put himself on that same level. The two of them do everything together, whether it be training for the Games or busting into our parents' supply of beer. Yes, they drink, and they very well know that they're underage.
"Of course," I say with a sigh. He's probably going to volunteer this time. I'm just worried that I might be drawn, given the new rule. I'm trained and can fight well, but that doesn't mean a want to go. Then again, I suppose that's what everyone is thinking.
"Ladies and gentlemen of District Two!" screeches a voice from across the town square. It's a ridiculous Capitol woman with spiked golden hair that makes me want to vomit profusely. Just because it's popular in the Capitol doesn't mean it looks remotely attractive to us.
"The reaping ceremony will now begin!"
I hurry to my place at the back of the sixteens. Much to my misfortune, my older brother decides to stand right behind me at the head of his age group. I groan.
The woman on stage reaches for the glass bowl, beginning to say, "And our first tribute for District Two—"
"I volunteer as tribute!" Gilbert screams, fist in the air and head held high with an eerie grin on his face. He marches right up to the golden-haired woman and says "Gilbert Beilschmidt," before she can ask anything. A few of the younger ones in the crowd can do nothing but gape at his bluntness, and I can't say I blame them. A few of the other "Careers," as they're called, who had been trying to volunteer settled down and stopped. My brother grinned at his triumph.
He's letting himself get too cocky about it, I think.
To the cameras, I realize, this is part of his image. He must look like a huge threat to the others. He's a confident, hot-blooded, and powerful seventeen-year-old bundle of energy, with a piercing red stare. He'll be popular in the Capitol, just like Maria—but I don't know if he'll last in the Games with an attitude like that. I suppose Maria was fine, but tributes change from year to year...
My thoughts are interrupted by, "And our second tribute is... Ludwig Beilschmidt!"
Me? My heart skips a beat. Maybe two. Maybe six. It's impossible to wipe the look of shock off my face, but I know Panem is watching. My feet feel bolted to the ground, with my legs ready to give way at any moment. I want to say something but my throat is dry and I've begun breaking out in a sweat. I blink twice and look up. Everyone, anything, and everything that can be looking at me is looking at me.
With a colossal effort, I lift one foot very awkwardly—but it's like there's a deadweight in it. I pathetically put it down only a tiny bit in front of my other foot. After what feels like hours of walking, slowly and painfully, I've inched my way up to the stage. It's only then that I notice Gilbert's expression—the same dumbfounded one I have. I detect what I haven't seen in a long time—a genuine concern for me. Maria, who's sitting on stage in the mentor's spot, is having one of those moments where I'm fairly certain she and Gilbert have the same brain. I let out a deep breath which I've been involuntarily holding in and plant myself next to Gilbert, trying to keep my expression calm.
The Capitol lady smiles her sickeningly sweet smile and delivers her infamous line—"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
I've already been picked, lady. That's an obvious sign—the odds aren't and won't be in my favor.
District Three
"Honestly, I can't say I'm particularly worried about getting reaped," I say nonchalantly to my friends. "People get so worked up about it, saying, 'I know it's going to be me! I'm doomed!' and then they turn out just fine. There are so many teenagers in this district. And sure, I've signed up for the tesserae a few times, but... haven't we all?"
There are nods all around.
"So you guys shouldn't be worrying... like... like him." I point over to the thirteens, where a little boy with light brown hair is bawling his eyes out.
"Yeah, or he's just so terrified of looking at the faces of this year's Careers on television," someone responds, triggering a few stiff laughs.
"Especially the pair from One," I say uneasily. "Natalia and... Ivan, I think." I don't want to admit it, but they scare me, too. Especially the tall one.
Suddenly, there is motion on the stage as the speeches begin. I know every word already—it's the same thing every year—so I mouth along with it mockingly. It isn't until the escort, with his shiny, shaved head, beings drawing names that I pay attention.
"Raivis Galante!"
Tears streaming down his face, the little boy I mentioned earlier walks shakily up to the stage. My jaw drops. Of all people, it was him? There are some days when chance never fails to amaze me. But then what happens next is worse. Because the name name called is:
"Eduard von Bock!"
I blink once, twice, three times. Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with my luck today? I was sure I'd be fine, but now I want to scream it myself in a rage against my own stupidity. I've found myself shaking too, biting back bitter tears.
When I've climbed up onto the stage, I glance over at the boy, Raivis. My legs feel ready to give way under me at any second. By instinct, I nervously push my glasses up, only to realize how stupid I look. I give up on trying to look in control of myself.
No volunteers. Why am I not surprised?
After managing to hold myself together through the rest, I break down the instant we pass the doors.
District Four
Admiring my reflection, I try to fix any tiny problems with my appearance, as I say, "And then I'll jump right up onto that stage, face the stunned audience and shout, 'I volunteer!'"
My brother begins speaking. "Hey, Al—"
"What's wrong, Mattie? Concerned for me? Don't worry. District Four will definitely have a hero this year."
I catch the clock in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.
"No, I meant—"
"Oh, no! We'll be late! Mattie, you shoulda warned me!"
"That's what I was trying—"
"Whatever!" I exclaim. "Let's go!" I grab Matthew by the wrist, and sprint out of our house and down the street. By the time we reach the town square, our escort is already leaning over the big glass bowl.
"Al."
I keep running.
"Al!"
"What?" I hiss at Matthew.
"Let go!" he pleads. Realizing that I've taken my brother almost all the way up to the stage, I let go just before I reach the steps.
"I volunteer!" I say sharply to the escort.
She looks up from the bowl, a paper still in her hands. The woman blinks. "Your name?"
In an effort to be friendly, I stick out my hand, with no response. The escort merely eyes it strangely. Would she really think someone like me would try to trick her? ...Never mind.
"Fine," I retort, folding my arms. "Whatever. I'm Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. Nice to meet you."
"Right," she nods, a bit shocked by my reaction, it seems. "You just stand there."
The escort stands right behind the microphone. "Our second tribute..."
She slowly unfold the paper she's been holding and reads is carefully.
"...is Matthew Williams!"
Mattie? No way.
He's been standing at the base of the stage this whole time, so he just steps up onto the stage, right next to me.
"My goodness, I didn't notice you until just now!" the woman says. The two of us just ignore her and stare at each other, dumbfounded. I can assume we're both thinking the same thing: Well, that really screwed our situation up, now didn't it?
We both want to live. But we'd hate to see the other die. Suddenly, Mattie turns, without waiting for the escort or our mentors, dragging his bear, Kumajirou, with him off the stage. I follow glumly.
"This really sucks, huh?" he whispers to me.
I bite my lip, whispering, "You think?"
Mattie sighs. We both know that one way or another, we're doomed.
District Five
Something wet and rough is rubbing against my face, but it's soft and fuzzy at the same time. I can hear a faint mewing, and there's pressure on my chest. I open my eyes and blink, inhaling a severe amount of cat breath. There's a rather large cat on top of me, waking me up from my sleep. What could possibly be important enough for this? I was in the middle of a great nap.
I look up. Everyone is staring either me or the cats.
"Uh... what did I miss?" I ask halfheartedly.
"You should be on stage," someone whispers.
"I..." I start, then realize where I am. The reaping.
"What do you mean, I should be up there?" I ask, slightly upset by the fact that I had to be woken up.
"They called your name," the same voice replies. I can feel all the color drain from my face.
"...Me?" I ask, speechless.
"Just go!"
I walk slowly to the stage, letting out a slight yawn on the way up. I rub my eyes to clear the sleepiness, but it's no help.
"You're Heracles Karpusi, right?" asks a young Capitol woman.
I nod slowly.
"Finally," she coughs.
"Alright, District Five! The second tribute is... Antonio Fernandez Carreido!"
A dark-haired teenager with green eyes steps forward and climbs to the stage. I recognize him. This isn't the first time I've seen him before. I've met him a few times around school before, and if I remember, he's fairly friendly.
"I remember you!" he says to me. We shake hands. The escort turns around and directs us off the stage.
I get one last look at the audience—and the cats, especially—before the door slams shut behind us.
District Six
I gently clasp Roderich's hand in mine as we sit on the ground, waiting anxiously for the start of the reaping. I suppose it has started already, but no one cares about what the mayor is saying. The Hunger Games? An honor? This is the cruelest joke in the history of mankind. I sigh nervously.
"Eliza?" Roderich asks, concerned.
"I can't stand this anymore," I say softly. "I know it's only our third year we can be picked, but I'm already of sick of it. The suspense, the fear, the guilt when you're not picked... it's just too much."
There is a long silence before he speaks.
"I can't say I disagree."
I let my head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. Suddenly, an attention-grabbing name from the loudspeakers shatters the silence.
"Roderich Edelstein!" calls the escort, reading the name on the slip he has picked.
In an instant, I'm on my feet. Every year, I knew if he got picked there was nothing I could do... but this time, with the new rule, gender didn't apply.
"No!" I cry, racing towards the stage. "I'll go instead! I-I volunteer!"
"I'm sorry, young lady, what's your name?" asks the man from the Capitol.
"Elizaveta Hedervary," I inform him, trying to swallow my anxiety. It's not working.
"Well, Elizaveta," he begins. His Capitol accent is rather obnoxious. "According to the special set of rules for this year, in this scenario, you cannot volunteer to take someone's place, but you may volunteer as a tribute with that person, unless there are multiple volunteers."
I can feel my anger growing and it's all I can do to act reasonable.
"You never told us that!" I protest.
"We explained the rules at the start of the ceremony. Now, are you going to volunteer or not?"
Anything would be better than watching Roderich suffer on his own, I realize.
"Yes," I say, choking out the word.
Roderich solemnly follows me. We look at each other and reluctantly follow the Capitol man.
That's all for now, more districts will be added later! Comments are greatly appreciated!
I'm back to writing... I'll try to update regularly if possible.