AN: Mukuro is scarily easy to transfer into the Hunger Games universe. But at least in this au, she's happier than in the actual game.

These kids are from a Japanese game, and have Japanese names. If this bothers you, then pretend that Japanese names are as common as English and Roman names in Panem.

That, or I can give you 4Kids-esque English names to give the characters. Mukuro Ikusaba= Mucrow Warblade. Done.


I [Mukuro+Beta!Makoto]

Victor of the 1st Hunger Games

Mukuro Ikusaba, 15, District 2

1-1-1-1-1

There is an uproar from the Districts, as they are told their punishment. The salt to be rubbed in their wounds. Their reminder.

One boy and one girl from each District, ages 12 to 18, are to be picked via lottery. Once picked, they are to be thrown together in a disclosed location, so they can fight to the death.

Only one can win. Only one can survive.

Everything will be televised. No one can stop this. No one is strong enough to oppose it.

It will be known as The Hunger Games.

The war nearly restarted, right then and there, when the announcement was broadcasted across the Districts of Panem. Only the Peacekeepers and high-powered weapons could stop the barbarous beings.

People roar angrily at the injustice, as they are held back, silenced, struck down.

Why are you punishing the children? Why not just execute us, and get it over that way? Why kill the innocent?

President White's answer is simple: Because this way, you will all learn.

1-1-1-1-1

The Reapings are a mess. Names have to be drawn multiple times, the census and lists of currently living people in the Districts being completely outdated. There have been much too many casualties in the Districts.

The bowls of the lottery are heavily rigged. Young rebels make up more than half the tributes.

A soldier—the daughter of a high-ranking Peacekeeper of District 2—is Reaped. Those smart enough to put two and two together—those who cared of the damned children—paled when they noted this.

Many who were privy of this detail before the general public were people who were pro-Capital, or simply Capitolites themselves.

They didn't care.

And neither did the District 2 girl, the ultimate soldier.

1-1-1-1-1

The organization of The First Annual Hunger Games is a mess.

The Tribute's accommodations are in a heavily reinforced steel building. There is one small, barren room for each District's tributes. There is one Capitolite per District, to help mentor them for their coming doom.

Even with the barren-ness of the rooms, many of these Capitolites report back to their bosses with heavy injuries, wrought from the angered, terrified children.

1-1-1-1-1

The next day, after the children have arrived VIA trains to the Capitol, Tributes are sent to another steel building to learn survival skills. Tables fill the room—stations, each teaching one skill, a tall Capitolite woman had told them—stern people behind them. Peacekeepers and guards are in every corner of the room, watching the children closely.

It is called Training, and it's to last 3 days. Many children are desolate, protest vehemently to attending. They are dragged to the event, sometimes in restraints until they can be calmed down.

They don't want to face reality.

Of the few that attend of their own free will, include the pair from District 2.

A young boy, looking incredibly plain and average. He's barely thirteen, short and sweet as could be. His dark brown hair is thick and soft, the color of chocolate. He is helpful and kind, despite the desolation and despair of his situation.

A tall, well-built girl, who will forever serve the Capitol, even when ushered to her death. Everything about her is starkly black and white, cold, calculated. There is nothing remotely friendly about her.

The odd pair simply wander around the basic survival stations. They are given approving stares, from the Capitolites in the large room.

The girl doesn't even consider nearing the combat stations, and the boy simply doesn't know of her abilities. He follows her readily, like a shadow. From fire-making, to plant identification, to animal tracking.

1-1-1-1-1

Three days pass. In the middle of that third Training day, Tributes are ushered to show their skills in front of a panel of judges, one by one. The grading scale is from 1 to 12, 12 being the most phenomenal.

The first to enter is the boy from 1, who quivers and shrinks away from the door. He has to be dragged inside by a guard. The girl is barely any better.

The boy from 2 strolls to the door of his own volition, oddly peppy. His District partner watches him. Soon, she is beckoned to enter.

The girl from 2 marches in, waiting stiffly in front of the judges. When they tell her to start, she salutes them, then promptly shows them why she was known as a prodigy.

They gave her a 10. It was obvious that she was skilled, and knew what she was doing.

Even before she leaves the room, she knows she achieved the highest score. And she did.

1-1-1-1-1

The scores are broadcasted that night. District 1 passes. Then the District 2 girl's face and name—Mukuro Ikusaba—flashes on the screen

10.

Her partner hugs her, cheering at her success, only mildly bothered of how dangerous she is. He somehow managed a 4. It—and every single score afterwards—pales in comparison to hers.

The next day, the Tributes are interviewed. It's a long prep day—the evening is when the true interviewing takes place. The children—almost all frightened, foaming animals—are draped and shoved in proper, formal clothing.

The Capitolites that mentor them try their best to prepare them, but many aren't ready for the spotlight. Each one is slowly shoved out onto the stage, under the bright lights and the attention of the entire nation.

But not the girl from 2. She marches out readily.

Without trying, Mukuro manages to win over the crowd. She's dangerous. She's loyal. She's a soldier. Even her family was known for being Peacekeepers.

It's almost as if she's crowned the Victor, before the Games even start.

Every Capitolite cheers, screaming her name. They adore her—nay, they love her.

Every District citizen cowers, seeing Death itself on her face, seeing her already covered in the blood of her fellow children.

1-1-1-1-1

That night, all the Tributes cannot sleep.

Many try, once more, to end their lives right there and then.

They are, of course, stopped. They are monitored and protected heavily. The only time they can die is in the Arena, filmed and broadcasted for the entire nation to see.

The chocolate-haired boy from 2 stays up whispering to his District partner, even if she doesn't whisper back.

1-1-1-1-1

The day of the Games dawns bright and sunny, in the most ironic of ways. All 24 children are dressed in a rather mundane outfit of basic pants, shirt, light jacket, and belt.

Each Tribute is shoved in hovercraft carriers, placed in tubes. Many are restrained or somewhat sedated, to be properly put in place.

When all 24 are ready, the tubes rise. The moving steel under their feet soon clicks into place. They finally rise, standing on platforms, all spaced evenly apart in a circle.

Grass. A plain of grass surrounds them. A few trees in the distance, to the North.

Immediately, in the middle of the circle of platforms, is a large steel container. Racks of weapons, backpacks, and food litter the small shack-like structure. The importance of the items detracts, as they near the pedestals, peppered about.

The tributes take in the sight of the steel structure warily, as well as everything else.

The countdown finally reaches its end. Almost all the children frozen on their platforms, either in fear or defiance.

Mukuro of 2 sprints to the center structure without hesitation, eyes having locked on the lone gun and clip placed strategically on a pedestal made of crates.

That gun is hers; it is so incredibly obvious.

She arrives there in seconds, already loading and cocking the .44 Baretta handgun—a very atypical fair for a Capitolite soldier. She whirls around, and shoots down the first stupid kid that runs towards the steel structure. She shoots 2 more, before searching for more weapons.

A combat knife, a machete, a small set of throwing knives. She tests a knife with a flick of her wrist, as it imbeds itself on the District 8 boy's forehead, who was nearing her turned back.

A canteen, a well-stocked backpack, a first-aid kit. Another shot, this time through the District 8 girl's face as she charged towards her—right when the disheveled girl was in mid-wail, furious and despairing over her partner's death.

The other tributes pale. A few start sprinting away, scattering—trying to head in any other direction, as long as it was away from the killer. Many are still stationary, on their pedestals.

It's her District partner that starts the wave. He calmly sits down, not willing to fight, to kill. The other 6 tributes that stayed rooted to their spots follow suit.

Mukuro stares bewildered at the young, plain face of the kind boy. He gives her a benign half-smile, before his pedestal promptly beeps and detonates, blowing up.

As the other 6 pedestals blow up—interference, most likely, from President White—Mukuro can't get the image of her District partner's last smile out of her mind.

She numbs herself. Goes meticulously through the supplies in the steel shack, arming herself to the teeth with weapons and rations. Forgets the boy, and only thinks of her mission: to please the Capitol.

And that means to bring the Rebels as much pain as possible.

1-1-1-1-1

Mukuro Ikusaba goes through the rest of The First Annual Hunger Games, hunting down tributes. She tortures those that were Rebels, to please the Capitol, who she will forever follow.

She runs around nonstop, with barely any rest or sleep. The only time she stops is when the Capitol Anthem blares during the night of the first day. When she hears the start of the tune, she snaps at attention, only moving when the tune ends and the faces flicker away from the night sky.

Mukuro Ikusaba is deemed the Victor, after fighting a desperate boy from 5 with solely her machete and superior combat skills.

The Games only lasted for 2 days. She has 13 kills to her record.

The Capitol loves her. Every District except for her home of 2 despises her.

"Here is your Victor for the First Annual Hunger Games—Mukuro Ikusaba from District 2!"

1-1-1-1-1

She's soon back on stage, in front of the adoring Capitol crowd.

Mukuro smiles, because she did all of this for them. She smiles, because she loves the praise, loves feeling important and needed.

Her partner still haunts her.

1-1-1-1-1

In-between the Games and the next, Mukuro is paraded around the Districts, breaking all the hard-placed borders that came after the war.

The Capitol doesn't care. They take pride in their Soldier, their Victor—someone who embodies everything the Capitol wants from the Districts, and what the Districts despise.

This event is dubbed 'The Victory Tour'.

Mukuro is told to give a speech for each District. Her being still filled to the brim with patriotic pride, she simply says this:

"The Capitol will always win. Next time, prepare yourselves."

She dodges all the things that are thrown at her—items and comments alike—from the furious, grieving crowds.

1-1-1-1-1

The Capitolite man who had mentored her during her time at the Capitol visits her in her new home—one built in a pristine plot of land, away from the rest of her District.

He notes on how wonderful the home is, and Mukuro readily agrees. It's large, and it's all for herself—her family were still prideful of their positions as Peacekeepers, not wanting to move away from their headquarters, and still wanted to weed out the Rebels in the districts.

It was one of the perks—along with all the fame and fortune—that she received when she won.

With all that surrounds her, she can even forget of the peaceful thirteen-year-old that she had bonded with, if only for a few days.

The ridiculously dressed man—Demetrius—in the bright blue suit congratulates her. He then informs her that she was phenomenal, and that he wouldn't be mentoring any future District 2 Tributes any longer.

"That's what you're going to do, now, Mukuro. You deserve it!" he had told her with a smile, which she had readily returned.

"I'd be honored to," she responded sincerely.

"This'll be a new tradition—a new fad, my girl! Soon enough, each District will have a Victor to Mentor their future Tributes. And then they'll have two, or even more! It's quite the wonderful system, really."

"It sounds brilliant," she replied readily. Because to the staunch Capitol Loyalist, it truly did sound like a brilliant idea.

1-1-1-1-1

As the days drew nearer, closer to her fate of Mentoring the Tributes of her District, Mukuro Ikusaba couldn't sleep.

She wasn't sure if it was from excitement, nerves, or guilt.

The last feeling scared her.

And the fear was unsettling to her.

But she just couldn't understand why she felt that way. She had everything she wanted. She did her job well. She served her country.

But can she still serve the Games, once they were already over?