Hunger Game Theory
The reaping. Hundreds of children gathered in the town square. Hundreds of children scared out of their minds. They crowded together, hands shaking, watching the lady with the colorful hair on the stage. They winced at the expected words.
"And may the odds be ever in your favor."
A girl's name was drawn. A nervous Kamichika Rio stepped up the grey stairs, stumbling over the top one. As she turned around to face the crowd, everyone could see that she was biting her lip. She looked like she was trying not to cry.
A boy's name was drawn, and as he started toward the podium from his spot in the middle of the crowd, a voice called out, "I volunteer!"
"Oh, how exciting!" the lady at the front exclaimed. "Please come up to the front so we can meet you!"
The boy immediately slunk back into the crowd, sighing with relief. The mass of people started to separate, forming a path from the back of the crowd. A solitary boy walked up the ever-expanding row, looking for all the world like he was simply going on a morning walk. Everyone looked at him in awe, wondering what kind of kindness had prompted this action. He pranced up the stairs, skipping the last couple. He spun around the back of the lady, ending up on her right side. He lightly took the microphone and pulled it in front of himself. In a silky voice, he proclaimed, "My name is Orihara Izaya, and I volunteer."
Then he smiled.
The lady became inexplicably nervous.
The crowd began to wonder if the act had any kindness in it at all.
The parade of the tributes was over, in which Rio had tried her very hardest to stay as far away from Izaya as humanly possible, which was quite the task in such a small chariot cart. Izaya, of course, had been smiling like a maniac almost the whole time, hamming it up for the cameras and giving a delicate wave every now and then.
Today was a training day, and all the tributes were free to use the things supplied by the Capital in order to prepare themselves for the games. Most people were lifting weights, shooting arrows, tying knots, fighting with swords, and other normal activities. Izaya had found a switchblade somewhere along the way, and was holding it as if they were old friends. Not using it, of course- just holding it. He walked around, talking with the other tributes. Rio was disgusted at how happy he seemed, chatting with everyone animatedly. As he glanced around the room, probably looking for his next conversation partner, their eyes made contact.
"Ah, Rio!" He said, gliding over to where she was standing. "I don't believe we've had a good conversation yet!"
"Why would we? What's the point, when we're just going to die in a couple days?"
"It's because we're going to die in a couple days. But that's not important. The real question here," he leaned closer, almost whispering, "is, 'How do you feel about the Capital?'"
"Well, I don't like them, obviously. But there's nothing we can do about it."
"What if there was? Would you do it?"
"It would be too dangerous. And that's ridiculous! Unless you have some master plan that somehow spans the entirety of Panem, there's no way it would be worth it."
Sighing dramatically, he shook his head sadly. "Suit yourself."
She expected him to turn and leave, but he sat himself down on a box filled with rope. "Have you observed the other tributes yet? Have you spotted the winner?"
"You can't tell who the winner is; the games haven't even started yet. If we could, there wouldn't be any betting."
"Oh, but I can. Just take a look around."
Unwillingly, she turned her head to take in the scene.
"See the dark-haired beauty over there who's undoubtedly mixing something poisonous? That's Yagiri Namie. She looks a bit unemotional here, but I hear there's a brother back home that she'll get back to if it's the last thing she does."
"Is she going to win?"
"No, no, no. Be patient, Rio. I'll get there. Now look at the two obsessing over the old books in the corner."
"Ok. What about them?"
"Torture experts."
She paled. "You're kidding."
"Nope. Completely serious right now. Aaaaannnnd how about the straight-faced dark-haired couple? Did you know that the girl's killed at least five people in the past? And he has learned some pretty sweet moves from roles he's acted in."
"At least they're not as scary as the torture experts."
"True, but don't mess with them. I don't really have time to go over all of the tributes with you- I do have more people to talk to, of course- but just be forewarned: there are some assassins, master swordsmen, and monsters in the crowd this year. It should be an exciting game." He smiled again. "Good luck!"
"Wait, you didn't tell me who was going to win!"
"Oh, so you care now? Interesting. I guess it wouldn't hurt to show him to you. It might be quite fun, actually." He gave his terrifying grin. "Just sit back and watch." He leaped up, adjusting his fur-rimmed coat. Rio absently thought that he must have requested it specially.
He sashayed over to a tall blond kid who was sitting with his arms crossed, scowling. "Fancy meeting you here, Shizu-chan. I didn't watch the other reapings; were you chosen, or did you volunteer?"
The kid didn't look at Izaya. "You had better not be who I think you are," he growled. "Because if you are, then you're going to lose a couple of limbs."
"Now, now, there's no need to get so angry. As you can see, you and your precious brother are reunited now, so there's really no reason for you to get so worked u-"
"Iiiiiizaaaaaaayaaaaa," Growling, the blond got to his feet, and Rio could almost see smoke pouring out of his ears. Suddenly, the boy grabbed hold of a large table nearby and hefted it in the air. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU ROTTEN FLEA!" He tossed the table as easily as if it were a Frisbee.
Smiling, Izaya dodged the giant projectile and spun in a different direction. "You really should be careful where you throw things. It's an enclosed space and someone could get hurt, you know."
"I'LL THROW WHATEVER I WANT TO UNTIL YOU LEAVE, IZAYA!"
By this point, guards were running in from all directions trying to restrain the fuming tribute. He threw several of them to the ground without blinking an eye, but they soon overpowered him with sheer numbers. The blond stopped struggling, realizing that pummeling these men would serve no purpose in the long run.
Stepping around the debris, Izaya made his way back to Rio. "Funny that they make sure to protect us from getting killed right now when we're just going to pick each other off soon. Or maybe they're just trying to preserve their supplies," he mused. "Anyway, what did you think?"
"Was that him?"
"Yes, indeed. Kamichika Rio, meet Heiwajima Shizuo, the boy who's going to win the Hunger Games."
"Are you sure he's under 18?"
"Yep. He's 17 and a half, so he just made the age cutoff."
"I wish he hadn't."
"It's truly a pity, isn't it? To know that you've lost before you've even started?"
Rio said nothing, and he sat down next to her, lounging comfortably.
"Something on your mind?"
"What do you think?" she snapped.
"Well, of course I know the general category of what's on your mind, but I'm sure you've got your own take on things."
She continued staring at her lap. "It's just… I was just wondering if…" she trailed off again.
"If?" he prompted.
"Never mind; it's not like you'd understand."
"To tell you the truth, there's not much I don't understand."
"That's a bit prideful."
"And yet, it's completely true. Let me tell you what you're thinking, if you don't believe me."
"I'm thinking that you're a creep."
"I know, but hear me out. You're scared. You've seen the other tributes, and you know what they can do. You know that, compared to them, you're a weakling, and there's no possible way you're going to win. What's the point of even playing the games if you know you're going to die? Wouldn't it be easier to just," he lowered his voice, "kill yourself before they can? It'd be quicker and less painful. And, of course, there's the added bonus of it being like spitting in the face of the Capital. Am I close?"
She didn't answer.
"I'm just gonna take that as a yes, then. If that's the case, you really shouldn't be worried. After all, you already know when you're going to die and how. There's nothing anyone can do to you."
She still said nothing.
"But you're still worried. It's pretty obvious why, of course."
"If it's all so obvious to you, why don't you go bother someone else? I'm sure I'm boring you with my predictability." Her frown deepened, and she had to fight the urge to slap him across the face.
"You are boring me a little, to be honest."
She stopped fighting the urge. Smack!
He put a hand up to his cheek. "You may have slapped me, but I've been completely right so far. Since you can't fight back with words, you have to retaliate using primal measures. It's sad, really. But I'm getting distracted; I was telling you why you were still worried."
"I don't want to hear it."
"You're worried because you're weak. You don't have the courage to kill yourself. Playing the games is suicide, but you can't bring yourself to do the finishing blow. You're too weak to die, and too weak to live. You just can't win. You're doomed to play the games and be one of the first picked off, and who knows how painful it will be?" He got up again, readjusting the coat. Smiling, his voice returned to a normal volume. "Good luck!"
She decided that her first impression of him was right. She hated his guts.
The time came for the tributes to be ranked, and they were called one by one in front of the judges.
"Orihara Izaya!"
Smiling, he sauntered into the room. "Ah, what a lovely crowd I have this morning."
Several men and women were sitting in the balcony, eating a meal at their leisure. "Begin whenever you're ready."
"I'm afraid there's not much to show, to be honest. My strength lies in strategy, so, unless one of you wants to come down and play a game of chess with me, this won't be very interesting."
"Strategy will only get you so far, Orihara. You must have some practical skills."
"I never said that I didn't have any, only that they weren't my strength. If you insist, I suppose I can show you something or other." With that, he slid the switchblade out of his sleeve and snapped it open. He made great show of dramatically pivoting to the side, pointing the knife at a dummy that was set up in the room. "I really hope you have replacements for these. But, then again, Anri Sonohara already went, so she's either hiding her abilities from you, or you already replaced the dummy."
"You've been watching the other tributes."
"Of course! Only a fool wouldn't. Now, on the count of three." He lifted his arm in the air. "One!" He drew it back. "Two!" He let the knife fly. "Three!"
The dummy crumpled into several neat pieces.
"Anything else I can do for you lovely folks this morning?"
"That will be sufficient, Orihara."
It was the night before the actual games, and Rio, predictably, couldn't sleep. Sitting up in bed and shaking her head, she decided that she would go for a walk. She snuck out of her room and soon found herself walking down the hallway, the silence so thick that you could almost hear a pin drop. Then, as her ears adjusted to the quiet, she heard a murmuring coming from the end of the hall. A slightly higher murmur answered. Someone was holding a conversation. At first, she questioned walking over to them, wondering if they would attack her for listening in. Then again, she really had nothing to lose.
As she crept along the wall, the voices grew slightly more distinct, but still too quiet to make out what they were saying. Hoping with all her heart that the floor wouldn't creak underneath her, she edged all the way to the end of the hall, where it made a corner and turned to the left. When she looked down, she saw a foot jutting out from the corner, and she tried to quiet her breathing.
"Oh, come oooon, Namie." It was Izaya. "Everyone's gotta be on board for this."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"I'm telling you, if everyone holds up their end of the bargain, nothing bad's going to happen."
"Ok, let's say, for some ridiculous reason, that your plan works. Won't the game masters just sabotage us all with, say, a freak storm or something?"
"I told you: I have a plan. Would it hurt you to trust me a little?"
"Quite possibly."
"Always such a downer, Namie. If it makes you feel any better, even if the game masters hit us with a storm from hell, your odds of surviving are still better than they would've been."
Rio heard a sigh, and knew that Namie had given in to whatever Izaya's master plan was. "Fine. But if it looks like this is going to fail, I will be the first one at your neck."
"If it fails, I think you'll have bigger things to worry about."
With that, she heard a rustling of clothing, and knew that they were about to head back to their rooms.
She ran.
Aaaaaaand my first DRRR fanfic is under production! I've already got the next few chapters written out, but I'm working out some details before I post them. I'm planning to use a couple characters from the light novels, but if you haven't read them, they shouldn't be too hard to understand, so no worries. Any comments and suggestions would be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy this as much as I am!
~JW