We walk back to the empty house, hands full of strawberries in our pockets. Although technically it's not our house, it's our fathers; once I turn eighteen next year, ownership of it will pass onto me if he doesn't return home. Mikasa grabs her clothes from the wardrobe before heading into the bathroom to scrub down and get changed. I find a bowl from the cupboard and place the strawberries inside. I knew we had half a bottle of milk left in the pantry so supper tonight would be nice and sweet.
I then go to the wardrobe and get out my special reaping day clothes. A white shirt, brown tunic trousers and a pair of smart black shoes. Although a bit small for me, they would only have to last me one more year before I am free of the reaping.
The door clicked behind me and Mikasa walks out, wearing a white blouse and skirt, with a pink cardigan. Her neck was wrapped in her lucky red scarf, given to her by me eight years ago. No matter what the occasion was, she was always wore it because it gave her a sense of comfort in these foreboding times.
"You look beautiful," I say and I really mean it. Her dark glossy hair falls like a curtain and her eyes shimmer in the early afternoon sunlight.
"Um thanks," Mikasa replies, holding a piece of her hair and looking at it. I grin and pull her into a hug. Mikasa looks surprised for a moment but then hugs back. Despite being siblings, we rarely have any contact with out each other.
I savour the moment, feeling the warmth from the hug and the sense of calmness that it gave me.
Many times I had argued at the people in the Hob over unfair trades or occasionally questioned the Peacekeepers over certain actions but Mikasa had always been there to pull me away and calm me down. I hated the unfair some people could be but Mikasa always stopped me from breaking out into a fight. I suppose in a way I had to be thankful otherwise a lot of people would hate me right now.
"It's nearly one o'clock," Mikasa said, pulling out of the hug, "it's time to go down to the square."
We head out of the house, not wanting to be late. Attendance is mandatory unless you were fatally ill. Even the officials will come around your house to check up on you and would imprison you if this was false.
As we got closer to the square, the people around us became more tense and quiet. There was an air of grimness, despite the fact that they had hung bright banners around the buildings, the cameras were perched on top of the buildings like buzzards.
As we file silently and sign in, I whisper a goodbye to Mikasa before walking off into the roped off area for the male seventeen year olds. She nods curtly and heads in the other direction to the side of the females. Family members line up around the outside of the square but there is no one waiting to see if Mikasa or I get reaped for the games. For the first few reapings my father had stood in the shadows, but now no one would care if I got picked or not.
The space began to get tighter as more people arrived, the clock slowly ticking down to two o'clock. I cast my glance towards the stage that has been set up in front of the Justice building, with two glass bowls, three chairs and a podium. I stare at the paper slips inside of the ball, knowing that my name was in there eighteen times. Eighteen little slips of paper belonged to me. I knew that Mikasa's name was only in her bowl six times, because I refused to let her take tesserae.
Two of the chairs fill in with Mayor Downdog, a wrinkled woman whose hair was like light brown candyfloss, and our escort, Hanji Zoe, fresh from the Capitol with her powered white face being obscured by a pair of sparkly black rimmed glasses in a copper coloured dress. They sit together, Mayor Downdog a little awkwardly whilst Hanji is beaming away at us. Most district escorts act in orderly way, but Hanji definitely borderlines eccentric. No wonder she was given District 12.
A short man appears on stage, his black hair immaculately parted evenly down the middle, whilst he was wearing his trademark silk cravat around his neck. He sat down next to Hanji, his facial expression sullen. I rarely see him around the district, most of the time he spends is too himself back in the empty Victor Village. I don't know much about him except that he won the 50th Hunger Games and that now every year he has to go back to the Capitol to serve as a mentor to the pair of doomed tributes from our district. Not a job I would like to have.
The square clock finally donged twelve and the Mayor stands up right on cue and begins to read. It's the same thing every year, the history of Panem. How humanity was once terrorised by a bunch of creatures called titans, bringing unity to the human race. Apparently they lived inside three massive walls that towered into the sky and reached the clouds. I bet they had much stronger walls than what we call our feeble chicken wire of a supposedly electrified fence. Eventually humanity managed to defeat the titans, but after a short while, ideals within the walls meant that different groups of people began to form. After a while, people began to fight over what was right and wrong, about whose morals were correct. These are known as the Dark Days, a time where there was war and disease and starvation. Finally the inner wall managed to triumph and thus the twelve districts were established, the inner wall proclaiming itself as the Capitol whilst assigning different districts to different areas. The walls were knocked down, The Treaty of Treason made and the Hunger Games established, to serve as a reminder of the Dark Days, never to be repeated.
The Hunger Games are a punishment for the districts, so every year two tributes, a boy and a girl have to be provided by each district where they are placed inside an arena with twenty two other tributes, where they will have to fight to the death in order to go home and back to their families.
These serve as a reminder to of the power that the Capitol holds over us, yet they go one step further to humiliate us. They are meant to be celebrated as a festivity, a kind of sick sporting event with prizes, mainly consisted of food, better housing and little delicacies like sweets, whilst the rest of us starve. It upsets me how this system works, with us being the poorest district, only ever having three victors and watching as our tributes get mercilessly slaughtered year upon year.
The mayor now reads the very short list of victors, with two out of the three of them being dead. With the man's name now being announced, he stands up for the camera, which are televising the whole event, live right now. Although he's renown for being one of the best tributes ever and an even better mentor, our tributes never win because we always too hungry and weak to win against the more strongly fed districts. With a lack of victors, it's no wonder that Panem doesn't take us seriously.
The man sits back down, tcching as Hanji practically leaps up onto the podium. Her glasses fall slightly askew, but she corrects them and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" line, with her over excitable way of speaking exaggerating out her Capitol accent. It just wants to make me to scoff at their accent even more.
However I don't hate Hanji as I do with most Capitol people. Most escorts in poorer districts tend to look down on them, trying their hardest because they want to get bumped up to better districts. However Hanji is genuinely pleased about having District 12 and she always has the same bubbly attitude every year at the reaping.
She begins to go on about how honoured she is about being here and the tension in my stomach begins to build up as it's almost time for her to announce the tributes. I glance through the crowd and catch Mikasa's eye and she nods at me knowing that it was just yet another reaping out of the way before I was too old to qualify.
Hanji walks across the stage to the first glass bowl and dips her hand inside, swirling it about before pulling out a single slip and walking back across to the podium.
The tension rises and I feverish hope and pray that she doesn't call out my name.
She slowly opens the slip of paper, the name inked intricately upon it.
Oh God, please let it not be me.
"Eren Jaeger!"
It is me.
At first I don't register that she has just called out my name and look around the crowd to see who was being called up. No-one moves. Everyone is looking at me.
Suddenly my legs have turned to lead and I appear to have had my feet glued to the floor.
Someone whispers, "Oi it's you Jaeger," and gives me a prompting push forward. My legs seemed to be moving of their own accord now and slowly walked up towards the stage, the crowd melting before me, all eyes in my direction. I try to catch Mikasa's face but I can't as my heart is beating too frantic and my eyes keeping skipping over everyone.
I don't know what I am doing, yet somehow now I seem to be up on the stage next to Hanji, the feeling of control in my body gone numb. However I know all of the cameras are trained on me, the newest tribute of District 12 and it's important not to cry or break down otherwise I will be perceived as a weak victim within the games. I cannot smile for the cameras, nor can I keep a blank face so I end up with an angry look of contempt for everyone who was watching.
"My my, how splendid!" Hanji grins, slapping me cheerfully on the back, "you seem to be made of some strong stuff, I bet you will fair wonderfully in the games."
The games right. More like a slap to my face.
"Now for the ladies", Hanji says as she walks over to the other glass bowl and daintly dips her hand inside. Another swirl and another slip in her hand. All throughout this ritual, I'm praying really hard that Mikasa is not chosen. Only one of us can survive.
"Winry Everlark!" Hanji calls and immediately the crowds parts as the girl starts to walk towards the stage. I groan at my fellow tribute. She is a small, blonde and extremely skinny twelve year old who I know deep down in my heart has not a scrap of a chance winning. Her scraggly hair is tied too tightly in ponytail, her dress is too big on her, presumably a hand me down from an older sibling. Her appearance is more close to a ten year old than a twelve year old and tears were already streaking down her face.
Nothing could save her from her inevitable fate now.
Nothing except-
"I volunteer as tribute!" ran an all too familiar voice from across the crowd. The girl stops in her path and tries to find the owner of the voice.
The owner of the voice steps forward and walks past the young girl, tapping her gently on the head.
"Oh my goodness!" Hanji shrieks excitably, "it appears we have our very first volunteer."
District 12 has never had a volunteer, well none that I can recall over the past several years of watching. Many a time I have seen young children sent to their deaths whilst older siblings sat on the sides watching with great reluctance and sorrow. Family love only extends so much.
No one volunteers for anyone, not for siblings, let alone random strangers.
And yet here she was standing on the stage next to me.
"And what is your name then darling?" Hanji asks, giving her bubbliest of smiles, barely containing her excitement.
"Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman."
Wow you guys are amazing for sticking this far. With the reaping over, it's time we headed over to the Capitol next chapter. Hopefully you will recognise a few faces in this chapter. Winry Everlark is an OC and will not be making a reappearance back in the plot.
I realise that there are a few things wrong and I will address these right now. Firstly I know at a reaping everyone is placed in ages groups regardless of gender, however Eren and Mikasa are the same age but I didn't want them to be standing next to each other when Eren's name is read out.
Secondly I know it's girls that are reaped before boys, however Mikasa is more likely to volunteer than Eren and it's more in her character to volunteer in order to protect Eren.
Thank you for reading. I have school starting on Monday so I will probably update this fic once a week (more if you are lucky!).
