The Games Begin
Bleach characters in the Hunger Games!AU. I might add one-shots to this verse later: the idea of Bleach cross-overed with Hunger Games is just too good of an idea to not expand on XD
Some notes that you don't have to read:
- The 12th District got annihilated instead of the 13th. Most of its people didn't survive, but those that did grew horns, discovered a fetish for Capitol Make-up, got a massive IQ boost and got sent to work in the Capitol's secret laboratories, where test subjects are 100% human.
- The Games have been going on for a while now, so different changes to different rules are introduced almost every year to keep the Capitol's audiences interested. This year District 13 gets to send in three tributes instead of one, because two of them were such passionate volunteers, unlike any the Capitol had ever seen before .
- Tributes come in all ages and sizes. And genders. The Hunger Games do not discriminate.
- President Yamamoto and his faithful attendant Chojiro Sasakibe is busy drinking tea and overlooking the game, if you were wondering where they were
- I wanted it to be crack-funny, if not maybe dark-funny or perhaps dry-funny, but it got a little serious at the end
- I should be revising for my exams instead
- Review if you would, and enjoy :)
1st District
Ichigo's eyes keep flitting towards the 6th District's redhead. Abarai sees him looking and sneers nastily at him. Ichigo scowls back.
Rukia, in between the both of them, rolls her eyes. "Idiots." She stretches her neck a bit and swings her arms, trying to redirect their attention back onto her.
Now, she thinks, trying to hint with her body language as she swings one clenched fist in a large windmill. Would be the perfect time to apologize to me.
She stares at Kurosaki Ichigo, to her right. Remember what you called me this morning?
Ichigo scowls and blinks, looking peeved.
She stares at Abarai Renji. I might forgive you if you apologize now, you know.
"Stop swinging you arm around like that, Rukia!" Renji barks, the only loud voice in the otherwise silent game grounds. "You're going down, Carrot Top."
Ichigo snarls, not bothering to keep his voice down either. "Yeah, you wish, Pineapple Head."
Both men glare at one another. Rukia's violet eyes narrow nastily, cursing the two of them a hundred times in her head.
Flat-chested, she thinks. Shorty. Her teeth clench. Bitch.
She recalls all the insults thrown at her this morning, and feels anger gather in her chest. Focus, she thinks. Focus your anger into energy!
Rukia bends her body so that her fingertips touch her toes. To anyone else she looked like she was simply warming up her body, or perhaps showing off her flexibility. But this was Rukia, and she never did things without an ulterior motive.
As soon as the gong rings Rukia slams both palms onto the small podium she was standing on, and use her hands to support her body weight. She does a perfect upside-down split, her two feet kicking Ichigo's and Renji's stomach, throwing them backwards on the ground and leaving them winded.
"Suckers," she declares, kicking Ichigo's leg and giving Renji the finger, before running into the woods without looking back.
2nd District
The gong rings, signaling the start of the Hunger Games, and Soi Fon is off, faster then the blink of an eye, not even bothering to look at her rivals because she knows, she just knows, that she is the fastest among them all and none of them even had the slightest possibility of beating her to the Cornucopia.
She snatches a jacket containing an impressive array of knives with her right hand, snatches a backpack from the table with her left hand, slings the bag on her left shoulder, pulls out a knife out from her jacket, runs out of the Cornucopia, gets on top of it, and makes her first kill – some small black haired yelling idiot – all in one second, a triumphant smirk already fixed on her face.
I will not fail you, Yoruichi-sama!
"Soi Fon! Soi Fon!" Soi Fon's eyebrow ticks in anger. She turns to glare at the male tribute from her district, a big, fat, fumbling oaf of a man named Omaeda. He is stupid, ugly, and a nuisance that she can't wait to get rid of. She is disappointed that he didn't die in the bloodbath going on behind them – for a man so big, he sure can run – but that feeling is sated by the grudging acknowledgement that Omaeda was not completely hopeless and might prove to be a useful ally yet.
She increases her speed, in part to further prove her capabilities to watching sponsors, and in part to test the idiot behind. Surprisingly he manages to keep up with her, albeit panting and sweating like a mad dog.
Besides, she thinks, someone like him, she can easily kill.
3rd District
The gong rings noisily and Gin springs off his stand, demonstrating the speed he'd kept hidden from the Gamekeepers. Instead of running forward to the Cornucopia, he runs backwards to the trees instead, where he can jump from treetop to treetop with ease and watch the ongoing bloodbath at his feet without disturbance. The petite girl from the 2nd District has snatched a jacket and a bag from within the Cornucopia. A knife materializes in her hand and she flings it at the tall, black-haired male tribute from the 13th District. The guy springs out of the way at the last minute and ducks into the Cornucopia. His fellow tribute, less lucky, gets nailed smacked in the head. The big, scarred male from the 11th District makes his way leisurely across the ground, laughing manically, a small, pink-haired female tribute riding gleefully on his shoulder. No one dares to challenge him. Brave, smart and strong tributes sprint past the madman and tail the black-haired guy into the Cornucopia. The less brave, less powerful but smarter tributes are already fleeing the Cornucopia, some not even daring to pick up a backpack – like the small raven girl from the 1st District. The not smart, not strong but brave ones run to pick up their bags but get hacked down by the tattooed red-head from the 6th District and the scowling orange-head from the 1st District. Gin continues watching the fight for a while – his meticulous mind taking down notes on the different tributes and the choice of their weapon. Then he sees him.
Gin grins even more as his fellow blond tribute sneaks in to the Cornucopia without being noticed and emerges with a gleaming silver dagger in his hand. This is it, thinks Gin. This is my weapon!
He hops and places himself into position. The second the blonde steps into the trees Gin drops down silently behind him, wrapping his arms around the shorter man.
"Hello, Kira," Gin whispers.
Izuru Kira turns in shock; eyes and mouth going wide with fear. Belatedly he remembers the dagger in his hand and tries to stab Gin with it, but Gin is faster and stronger. Without effort he twists the dagger out of Kira's hand and leans in until their foreheads are touching.
Kira is too terrified to even whimper.
Gin holds the moment for a few seconds before retreating abruptly and sticking out his other hand. "I'm not going to kill you. Let's be allies!"
Gin's grin never falters. Slowly Kira reaches out to accept the proffered hand. Gin's hand is ice-cold. He's not going to kill me, Kira thinks. If he'd dug his grave by allowing Ichimaru Gin to sneak up on him, then now he has put one foot in the coffin, by forming alliance with the man. He's not going to kill me, yet.
4th District
Hanatarou Yamada tripped over his feet thrice while running away from the Cornucopia. The first time he tripped in his haste to get down from the pedestal. The second time he tripped over a well-hidden tree trunk.
This time, the third time, he trips over somebody's foot.
He yelps and flails, limbs flying everywhere, and one of his foot catches around the ankle of his assailant, pulling the both of them down together.
Bright orange hair appears in Hanatarou's vision, and he instantly stiffens, thinking of the lean, powerful man from the 1st District, Kurosaki Ichigo.
His assailant hits him with a fist, yelling "You idiot!" The punch hurt less then what he'd been expecting and the voice was rather high-pitched. As the orange-head rolls off him it becomes apparent that this is the other orange-headed tribute of the games: Kotetsu Kiyone from the 13th. Hanatarou relaxes instantly.
"Kotetsu-san!" He cries in relief. The girl and him were alike in certain ways: same build, same lack of physical finesse. But the girl had a voracious appetite and a really, really loud voice. Hanatarou generally did his best to hide in one corner and pretend he didn't exist.
Kotetsu glares at him. "Why," she snaps, "are you looking so relieved?"
Oops, she's pissed. Better act stupid.
"R-R-Relived? O-O-Of c-c-course I'm n-not relived! It's… it's you! I- HELP!"
Hanatarou's desperate squeaks scare the birds from the treetops above them. Kotetsu Kiyone grins, pleased with her scare factor.
"You don't look half bad," she says, looking him up and down. "How 'bout we be allies?"
Thank the gods, Hanatarou thinks. She's a stupid one.
5th District
Hinamori heart is racing at a hundred miles per hour. She scans the other tributes with wide-open eyes. Some look ready to kill, some look bored, and the rest looked like they were trying their best not to pee their pants. Hinamori classifies herself under the last group.
If Sosuke Aizen, the male tribute from her district, hadn't offered to make an alliance – with her, of all people! – she would have stepped off her stand and allowed herself to be blown to bits by the landmines. At least her death would be instantaneous. At least she wouldn't have to actually play the game.
Despite her nerves Hinamori manages to stand still on her stand. Her palms are sweaty and she repeatedly wipes them against her jacket. She's terrified and worried, but at least she has Aizen, and Aizen has a plan.
She turns to look at Aizen, who is standing calm and composed, a small smile on his face. How brave! Hinamori wished she had half of his guts. She still couldn't believe that he'd chosen her out of all the other tributes to ally with. Her! What could she do? She could sing, weave, and run. Aizen, on the other hand, could fight, could hunt, could lay traps…
Hinamori would have sighed if she weren't so anxious. Such a noble man.
Aizen looks and smiles warmly at her. Hinamori blushes.
Steel yourself, she berates herself quietly. Aizen is counting on you.
For Aizen, Hinamori thinks. For Aizen.
6th District
Abarai Renji has failed even before the game has truly begun. He falls backwards and off the podium, limbs flailing wildly and looking like a sad, pathetic mess. Helpless fool, Byakuya thinks, making to dash diagonally to get westwards of the Cornucopia. He picks up the items lying in his path – a spear, a sword – and decides to demonstrate the fact that he's not somebody to be messed with by reaching back and effortlessly tossing the spear in the direction of the ugly man from the 2nd.
He hears a squeal like a pig and a grunt as his target crashes onto the ground. Eyes trained on his target, Byakuya moves to pick up a bag of supplies to his right when he feels a cold shiver run down his spine.
Byakuya has to forgo the bag for his life as he gracefully dodges to one side, out of the blade's way. Mostly. The blade still manages to give him a deep cut in his right shoulder. Byakuya hisses in pain. He picks up his pace and literally leaps across the last few meters to his target. The man is dead, but just to be sure, Byakuya digs the spear deeper into the man's body.
He removes the dead man's backpack and runs, not checking on his wound or on his new supplies. Not yet, anyway. He could check them later.
Right now Byakuya has to hunt down the girl from the 2nd. He has an ally to make, and a game to win.
7th District
Iba's in the games, and he's not going to fool himself. He's tough, but he's not the toughest. He's fast, but he's not the fastest. He's smart, but he's not the smartest. In one line, "Iba's good, but he's not the best." And Iba knows. He knows that if you're not the best then you're not going to win. And he also knows that he's going to die.
It's funny how when the realization of his impending death hits, all of Iba's nerves disappear and for the first time in a long while he falls into a full, resting sleep.
Oh, he knows death will come. He knows it'll hurt when he finally dies. But Iba's heart and mind is content. What will come will come, and nothing he does or say will change it.
It is with this mindset that Iba plunges into the games. He'll give it his best, and he'll fight his hardest. That way when death comes for him, he can say that he's lived and he's fought and he's died like a man, all the way through.
8th District
Kyoraku Shunsui is drunk and Nanao doesn't know how or why. All she knows is that she's disgusted by his lack of seriousness, and hoping that one of those powerful and easily irritated tributes, like Zaraki from the 11th or Soi Fon from the 2nd, would quickly kill him and put him out of her misery.
No such luck. When the gong goes Kyoraku walks his way haphazardly in Nanao's direction, calling in a sickening voice: "Nanaoooo-channn~"
Nanao shudders with barely suppressed revulsion and runs for it. She doesn't look, doesn't plan, she grabs the closest thing her hands get on and runs away from the drooling, pathetic pervert.
I'm not going to get killed in the Hunger Games, she thinks desperately. I'm going to get raped.
Her head keeps swinging back to check on Shunsui Kyoraku, and she doesn't even take note of just where she's stumbling to. By the time Nanao comes to her senses she is furious at herself: she is all alone, without any supplies, and lost within the thick mass of the woods.
She sinks onto the ground, tired from her run, and when the blade digs itself under her chin, she realizes that she's not as alone as she thought she'd been.
9th District
Kensei would deny it if anyone ever accused him of doing so, but he had, ultimately and undeniably, played favorites with the two tributes that he had to work with for this year.
Maybe it was the way the kid walked with his chin up, back straight, a quiet, firm resolve burning in his eyes saying that if he dies he was going to die dragging as many of his foes down with him as possible. Maybe it was the three thin scars that streaked down one of his eye, and despite the horrendous scratch he was still up and fighting on his feet. Maybe it was the black tattoo on his face, inked there in remembrance of his hero, one Kensei Muguruma.
Whatever it was Kensei found himself working hard on Shuuhei Hisagi, dropping tips here and there on how he should hold his weapon, what are some of the skills he should learn, what are the allies he should make, etc. Shuuhei takes all of his words to heart. He's sharp, disciplined, and he might actually even win this thing – which was saying a lot, since this year there was a surprising amount of good tributes out there to play. Kensei decides that he likes the blazing spirit that is Shuuhei Hisagi's soul, and decides that he will do everything in his power to make sure the boy wins.
On an unrelated note, throughout the three days of training Kensei says a total of three sentences to the other 9th District tribute, a blind guy called Kaname Tosen: "What are you good at?", "Keep practicing, don't stop improving your skills" and "Do your best in the arena". Mashiro, the other 9th District mentor, keeps rubbing it in his face.
"He has you," Kensei shoots out, before downing out her voice and focusing intently on the screen. Shuuhei is sprinting towards the Cornucopia. He's not the first one in, but he still manages to emerge from the Cornucopia slinging an awesome weapon across his shoulders. Two deadly looking scythes, connected by a black chain. Beautiful.
"You're one of the tough ones," Kensei murmurs under his breath. "Get him, kid, you know you can win."
As though he'd heard him, Shuuhei charges at his opponent, moving quickly and quietly, as swift as the wind. He swings the weapon expertly, and it grazes the shoulder of his first target, and stabs the stomach of the second.
"Atta boy," Kensei grins.
10th District
Hitsugaya turns and catches Matsumoto's eye. His internal clock was slowly ticking down the seconds they had till their minute was up. She catches his gaze and nods, ever so slightly.
They had discussed this earlier. Hitsugaya, with his slight build, would run towards the mouth of the Cornucopia where he would quickly gather weapons. Matsumoto would skirt about the edge of the Cornucopia. They would then run off and meet each other about 6 kilometers away from the Cornucopia, in a direction 45 degrees clockwise from the tip of the Cornucopia: Hitsugaya for a weapon, Matsumoto for the supplies. After that their temporary alliance would end and it would be every man for himself.
That had been the plan, anyway.
Hitsugaya has only the time to pick up one backpack when he hears Matsumoto scream. He doesn't even turn. Instead Hitsugaya shoulders the backpack, wrenches a knife out of some dead guy's forehead and bolts, 30 degrees clockwise from the tip of the Cornucopia for what felt like a million kilometers, screams of death coming from behind him.
So much for the plan, he thinks, coming to a stop beside a water body, when he's sure no one's trying to kill him anymore. Looks like its every man for himself now.
11th District
Yachiru, to Zaraki's displeasure, jumps onto him the instant the gong rings. Not to kill him, but to ride on him.
"Kenny Kenny Kenny Kenny!" She squeals, bouncing up and down.
"Shaddup," Zaraki replies, not bothering to get the kid off him. He'd tried already. No amount of flinging, shoving, threatening or bellowing worked. The kid seemed to have some sort of immunity to him – no matter what he did, he wasn't able to hurt her and he wasn't able to scare her.
Zaraki takes his time walking towards the Cornucopia, letting the weaklings from the other districts go first. All the tough tributes have sprung into the Cornucopia at the first instant. The weak tributes have quite literally fled. That left the stupid ones, running around trying to pick up supplies.
Zaraki didn't need the fancy, high-quality equipment within the Cornucopia. He didn't need to run, either. Other people would be running away from him. What he did need was a good, solid sword. He'll just kill the other tributes for their food and supplies.
Some tall, while-haired bitch runs on her long legs and picks up a Japanese katana. Nothing too fancy, a weapon to kill. The woman doesn't look like she could handle something as sharp as that, judging by the way she stares at the Cornucopia, and the way her shoulders hunch as though she was trying to make herself look smaller.
In two long strides Zaraki is beside her, one gigantic hand clamped over her shoulder. "That belongs to me," he says, in a voice expecting no argument.
She turns, mouth open and ready to scream, but all that comes out of her mouth is her own blood.
"Oh Kenny Kenny Kenny! Her dagger! Give me her dagger!" If possible, the sight of blood spilling only serves to excite Yachiru even more. Zaraki grunts and tosses the dagger at the little monster on his back.
"There's more over there, Kenny! Let's kill them, Kenny!"
Zaraki turns and advances on his prey, laughing. He hasn't felt so good in ages.
13th District
Kaien's sick of the Games, and it hadn't even begun yet. He's sick and disgusted with the man behind it, President Yamamoto, sick of the cruelty and helplessness of the situation, and sick by the acts that he was about to do.
When he'd met his mentor, a frail man by the name of Jushiro Ukitake, the man had sighed sadly as he regarded him. Ukitake had said that Kaien had potential, but he'd also said that Kaien couldn't win. You can't win, Kaien, he'd said. You care about your friends, and so you can't win. It'll be over for you, over before it even begun.
Kaien's blood boils just thinking about it. Ukitake was right, of course. And against either of their better judgment Kaien had gone around and spoken with each and every one of the tributes from the different districts. He'd made some friends, even, with the two 1st District tributes, Ichigo and Rukia, and his two other fellow tributes, Kiyone and Sentaro, even though he thought the latter two were idiots.
He shook his head just thinking about them. It was bad enough to be picked for the tributes. To think the two of them would volunteer, and fight, even, to participate in the games just to be able to meet their revered idol, Jushiro Ukitake.
Their fighting spirit deserves admiration, though it was quite a surprise to see that the Gamemakers had actually given in to their request and permitted three tributes from District 13. He supposed that after so long, changes had to be made here and there to keep the audiences interested.
The gong sounds the start of the games. Kaien narrows his eyes and runs for the Cornucopia, hot on the heels of the girl from District 2.
You have potential. He thought hard about his mentor's words, and about the staunch belief that he'd held in his heart since he was a little boy. Friends and family – both were important to him, and if he could only have one then he'll take it, and fight for it to his dying breath.
The girl from District 2 throws a knife at him, but he jumps to one side. Someone grunts and falls behind him, but Kaien doesn't turn. No time.
He had potential. Ukitake said as much. He springs into the metal den, and his eyes land on a three-pronged metal trident. He grasps it in his hands, liking how it felt like it was made for him.
He picks up a backpack and strides outside, standing out of the way of as Ichigo and Abarai Renji of District 6 come barreling past him.
If I can't have one then I'll have the other.
When he steps outside, only the two District 11 tributes are alive. Yachiru is riding on Zaraki's shoulder. In her hand is a small knife, and in his hand is a ragged katana. Surrounding them is a mix of blood and decapitated bodies.
Kaien's resolves hardens. His aquamarine eyes shines with fiery determination. He charges at District 11, alone, and thinks: I'll win this for my family.