WOO. Chapter three. A few days late, yes, but that's just because this was a total brat to type and clean up from my notebook where I had it. Once again, I apologize for the changes from the original Hunger Games story I took the liberty to make. If you're a legit Hunger Games fan, than you'll see them and I apologize to you. If you're not and are just enjoying this for the hell of it, then I won't point out my changes because it shouldn't make much of a difference to you guys anyway. On with the show, I hope you enjoy it!

Inhale.

Exhale.

Slow.

Repeat.

Vash Zwingli closed his eyes, and focused intently on his breathing. In, out. In – hold – out.

It wasn't working. His nerves were still electrified, veins still on fire. The train jostled – again – and Vash had to brace himself against the wall of their compartment – again. He frowned, cursing blackly beneath his breath in his native tongue. Cursing the train, cursing Hetalia, cursing the Hunger Games and cursing the horrible, unforgiving world they lived in—

"Brother, are you alright?"

He was jolted from his fervent mental tirade against the world by the small, gentle voice to his left. There, Lili looked up at him, hair disheveled and dress torn, the ribbon in her hair no more than tatters. But she sat straight, legs crossed at the ankles and hands folded politely in her lap. Her bright, wide green eyes were proud and modest at the same time, and filled with concern for her elder brother. Vash had to suppress a chuckle; his Lili was a far better lady, a far better human than any of those snooty Hetalia governesses, sneering down their crooked noses.

Yes, that was right. Lili. This was all for Lili, his little sister. He couldn't afford to snap now. He gave a curt nod, eyes forward.

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm alright."

For another few minutes they sat in silence, and Vash allowed her presence to calm him. She had always had this effect on him, ever since he first took her in. His shoulders would slowly relax, fists unclench. His breathing would slow and match hers as her warmth seeped over. And slowly, slowly, he would smile, however small. But something was wrong now. His sister was not smiling, not warm; she was shivering beside him, horribly. From, the corner of his eye, he could see her hands, so small, shaking in her lap.

Vash knew it wasn't just the cold.

Lili forced her teeth to stop chattering, twisting and fisting her hands in the tattered fabric of her dress. At one point, it had been of a warm mauve color, but time and the hardships of their poor lifestyle had been unforgiving. The dress (one she treasured, as her big brother gave it to her) was now faded and gray, hints of its original hue hard to find. Torn and dirty, but it had always been reliable, and was in far better condition than other things she had. She wore the dress proudly, and always would.

Currently, however, she couldn't stop twisting her fingers in the material, breathing slowly through her nose to calm down the way her brother taught her.

She wasn't afraid.

She wasn't afraid.

If Vash could be strong, than so could she. It was the very least she could do for him – he, her dear brother, who sacrificed everything for her. Who put his life on the line just to be with her. She couldn't burden him with her fear. She wouldn't.

So she wasn't afraid.

Her fists clenched tighter as she shut her eyes, repeating the words in her mind like a mantra.

She wasn't afraid.

Her nails dug deeper into her palms, knuckles turning white from the strain.

She wasn't afraid.

She wasn't afraid.

She wasn't—

A hand, calloused and warm, closed over hers.

"You're going to make your hands bleed," Vash muttered, gently prying her tightly balled fists open, relaxing them with a comforting squeeze. Indeed, Lili's palms were pinpricked with angry red marks from where her nails had bitten into them. She ducked her head in shame.

"I-I'm sorry,"

From the corner of her eye, she could see him shake his head with a frown. "There's no need to apologize." For a moment more, his hand remained on hers, fingers entwined as he rubbed her abused palms with the pad of his thumb. She didn't realize she was smiling until it was wiped away when he pulled back, leaving her hands with a sudden chill as his warmth disappeared. And then, "Are you cold?"

Lili blinked up at him in surprise, eyes wide. She shook her head in the negative; she needn't trouble him further. As if he had read her thoughts, Vash scoffed and said, "It's not a problem. If you're cold, say so."

Her head was down again, shaking stubbornly from side to side, blonde locks shadowing the truth in her eyes.

A sigh. "You're lying." Without warning, and before she could retaliate, a weight was draped over her shoulders. She gasped at the sudden warmth, and tugged at the edges of the new garment to get a better look at it. Her green eyes, once again, went wide.

"B-Brother, this is your coat!" She whirled to face him, expression one of concern, but he merely waved her worries away with a grunt.

"But-"

"It's fine, Lili. I'm feeling a little warm anyway."

Lili frowned, clearly distressed and less than convinced. "That's not true,"

He looked at her with a raised brow. "Perhaps but you're far more chilled than I am. That is true; you're shaking like a leaf." When she continued to stare and fret over the coat, she reminded Vash of one of the many lost puppies Lili had happened upon and brought home despite his warnings against strays (which he always ended up keeping until they healed anyway; but only because the dogs were hurt, not because he wanted to see Lili happy and smiling. Because something like that would just be preposterous).

He sighed heavily, before jolting in surprise as Lili's weight shifted and leaned into his side. Alarmed, he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, only to find her shrugging in defeat and pulling at the coat so it stretched over both their laps.

"If you say so, Brother. But please – let me help you, too. This way, we'll keep each other warm, so – B-Brother, what's the matter?"

Vash's face had gone from deathly pale to beet red in record time, piercing green eyes shifting rapidly. He swallowed thickly, and coughed awkwardly into his fist.

"N-Nothing. If that's what you want." He shrugged with one arm, a failed attempt at indifference. "Do what makes you happy."

Staring straight ahead, he looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, blushing deeply as she snuggled more comfortably into his side, cheek pressed against his ribs so that when she spoke he could feel light vibrations in his chest.

"It does. This makes me happy."

He could hear the smile in her voice, and it took all the willpower he had in his stoic-expression arsenal to keep from grinning too.

"Good. That's… That's good."

A very small one managed to escape him anyway.

What brought him back to himself was her ribbon.

He had been frozen, motionless, immobile, both inside and out. His eyes were wide, and he couldn't even tell he wasn't breathing, because it didn't matter. Nothing but the name that had just been shouted over the crowd, lost to the wind, nothing but that mattered.

Lili Zwingli had been chosen for the Hunger Games.

He didn't feel it as her shaking hand slipped from his, didn't feel it as she drew herself up and tried to be strong, polite, ladylike as he'd always taught her. Didn't feel it as she stretched on her toes to kiss his cheek gently, didn't feel it as she whispered tearfully, "It's okay. Thank you."

Didn't feel it as she left his side to walk gracefully to the stage.

It was then, as he numbly watched her grow smaller, farther away, that he noticed her ribbon. The bow fluttered in the breeze as she walked, standing out a defiant azure blue against her sunshine yellow hair. It was loose; somehow, somewhere along the way, it had been shaken near free, almost undoing his work when he'd done it earlier for her that day. Seeing it now, almost undone, that tiny, insignificant detail was what woke him, made him breathe again, brought him back.

And he was running.

"Lili!" She was almost to the stage now, so far away, and someone was screaming madly at the top of their lungs, "Lili!"

It was a moment before he realized it was him.

"I volunteer! I'll go! I volunteer!" He grabbed desperately at his sister's hand just as she began to climb the steps, the words still spilling from his mouth like water, a stream he couldn't stop as their eyes locked. His voice was not above a whisper. "I volunteer… I'll go… Lili, I'll do it, I'll go…"

It was silent, no one moved, no one spoke, staring in shock. There hadn't been a willing tribute for the Hunger Games in decades; it was unheard of. The murmurs started in low, making the crowd restless and uneasy. What to do now? Protocol for volunteering had gotten dusty; no one knew if it was even allowed anymore.

Vash and Lili were still frozen, eyes still connected, when Bella finally retook the microphone, struggling to steady both the crowd and herself.

"Wow! That's the spirit, huh?" She laughed and continued on about the spirit of the game, sportsmanship, as Vash mechanically walked onto the stage, Lili in tow.

He straightened his shoulders, ignoring the small, shaking hand in his. Bella turned to him, and he spoke, forcing tremors out of his voice.

"My name is Vash Zwingli. I volunteer for the Hunger Games in Lili Zwingli's stead."

These words seemed to jolt Lili out of her stupor, and her free hand fisted in his shirt. "Brother, no! No, you can't!"

Vash didn't look at her. "Hush, Lili."

But Brother—!"

He turned on her, eyes hard but desperate as she'd never seen. He grabbed her shoulders, shook her, voice rough. "I said no, Lili! I can't… I won't lose you!"

Without waiting to watch her eyes fill with tears, he turned to the announcer, sharp and determined.

"I volunteer, is that clear? I will go for her."

For a moment, the girl's eyes looked pained, regretful. And in a flash, Vash knew she wanted to help them, but couldn't.

"I'm sorry," She forced out in a voice she was struggling to keep clear and steady. "Once a name is drawn, that's final. But I'm sure we'll all wait anxiously for the next competitor. Now it's time for the second draw!"

Vash was no fool, and he caught on to her subtle hint, speaking clearly before she could even turn to the bowl of names. "Then I'll go with her. I volunteer as the second tribute."

At this, the crowd erupted. No one had been expecting this – to offer up oneself in place of another was radical enough, but then when you're turned down, spared, to keep trying? Keep going when you don't have to, when you could live? Unbelievable.

In all the sudden confusion, Vash almost missed the small smile of appraisal Bella threw his way. After a moment, he nodded his gratitude, and the girl turned her attention back to the raucous crowd. Then there was a squeeze on his hand, and he looked down reluctantly.

There was agony in Lili's eyes, green orbs trembling. But she said nothing. Slowly, she stepped forward, and wrapped delicate arms around his waist. She buried her face in his chest, and after a moment she began shaking. There was a growing dampness in his front as her small frame shook harder, hands balling into fists at the back of his shirt.

Gently, as the world continued on without them, he wrapped strong arms around her, one across her shoulders while the other rested on the back of her head. He rubbed her arm soothingly, stroked her hair back, closed his eyes. He hated it when she cried.

Only when he trusted himself to speak did he lean down and whisper in her ear, voice barely audible, "I won't lose you, Lili. I'm here. Always."

There was a pleasant warmth at his side, and in his hands.

This warmth woke him, still spellbound by sleep, to glance groggily at his surroundings. Slowly his senses returned, his memory – he was in the train taking them to Hetalia, where they would be granted a month's rest before being shipped off to the Hunger Games. He and Lili, together.

With a sigh, he tried to raise a hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes, only to find it preoccupied with something else. Before he could consult this however, the door to their compartment slid open.

"Good evening, Mr. Zwingli, we'll be arriving in District Seven soon to pick up – oh my,"

A plump woman with shock pink hair (seriously, what the hell?) had very cheerfully entered their compartment, piping something that was more than likely unimportant, only to freeze at the sight of the Zwingli siblings, eyes wide. A hand went to her mouth to suppress a giggle, "Oh dear, am I interrupting?"

Vash counted back from one thousand to calm himself. He made it to nine hundred ninety eight.

What – do – you – want?" He ground out, voice and gaze acidic. Apparently, this woman was either immune to his death glares or just plain stupid (Vash was pushing for the latter), because she just giggled again and twiddled her thumbs, looking as though she was regretting not having a camera.

(Honestly, Vash was regretting having to leave his gun back home because he so wanted to shoot this woman in the kneecaps.)

"Well?" He repeated, brows raised expectantly. The woman blinked, before nodding and (oh god, he just wanted his gun) giggling again.

"Yes, I was just told to inform you—"

"Keep your voice down. In case you couldn't tell, my sister is sleeping."

"Oh, of course. I was told to inform you that we would be making another stop or two before entering Hetalia. We simply must pick up the tributes from District Seven, and they are going to have to share a compartment with you,"

Oh joy. Bonding time with the people he'd be killing. "I see. Thank you for the information. How long before we stop?"

"About ten minutes." The woman turned to leave, but paused to glance warmly over her shoulder, one last time. "I must say, you do have the cutest little sister." Vash could feel his face heating, but she continued with a soft smile. "You're a very good big brother to do what you did. You should both feel lucky to have each other."

And then she was gone, leaving a very flustered Vash with a very unconscious Lili. He scowled; damn Hetalia people. Glancing down, he could see Lili curled into him, fitting perfectly into his side. Her head rested gently in the crook of his neck, and her knees were drawn up so that she was practically in his lap. His eyes misted over; she was so small… How could someone as sweet, as pure as her be forced into something as horrid as the Hunger Games? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

His left arm, which had been protectively wound about her shoulders the whole time, tightened its hold minutely. His other hand was tangled with both of hers, and there his gaze rested. These hands… he'd always loved these hands. So small, so delicate, so innocent and kind. He slowly ran his thumb over her palms, her fingers. She was so gentle… these hands healed only, not destroyed. They were never meant for that. He'd taught these hands to defend themselves, but they were not killers, not to be stained with blood.

Very suddenly, he knew that he would fight in a hundred, a thousand bloody Hunger Games if it meant these hands would not have to. If it meant that they could stay safe and without blood stain. If it meant he could see her smiling face, and know she was happy.

But that was not possible, so he would have to settle for the next best thing.

"I swear to you, Lili," He breathed into her hair, fingers firming their grip on her hands, "I will protect you. No matter what it takes. You'll get out of there, and live a long, good life. I'll keep you safe. It's going to be okay, I swear it."

It was foolish of him to be promising these things to a sleeping girl, but he meant every word. He would protect her, even if it cost him his life. She would not have been happy to hear that last part, but he didn't very well plan on dying anyway.

He should wake her. He knew this; it wouldn't do for their competitors to see them this way. It would make them seem weak, like easy targets. What they thought of Lili was irrelevant – what they needed to understand was that he was not one they wanted to cross, and that laying a finger on Lili meant they had a death wish.

But a small part of him so wished they could stay like this. Just the two of them, no one else. That the train wouldn't stop, just roll on, forever. Keep going. And that the two of them could just remain there, safe, together.

"Lili," He murmured, shaking her shoulder with a sinking heart, "Lili, wake up."

"Hm…?"

Green eyes opened slowly, lazily expelling the lingering traces of sleep. "Brother…?"

Vash nodded, gently nudging her off of him. "We're going to be getting visitors. Others chosen for the Hunger Games."

At the mention of the Games, Lili straightened instantly, eyes wide. The sudden movement jerked the ribbon from her hair, and he sighed lightly, reaching to put it back in its place.

"I'm sorry," She said quietly as he redid the bow, both hands once again free.

"It's fine." He paused, before continuing in a voice that was warning and firm. "Listen, Lili. These people are our enemies. We do not get close to them. Don't trust anyone, alright?"

"Yes," She agreed softly, refraining from nodding lest she disturb her brother's work.

"Some will seem nice, they may try to win your trust, but you must remember – they are our enemies. The will all turn on you during the Games, and on each other. Is the ribbon secure?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't hurt?"

"No."

"Good. Anyway, don't speak to anyone unless I'm with you; in fact, try to refrain from speaking to anyone if you can. I'll point out the specific ones you should stay away from, but to be safe, be wary of everyone. Understood?"

She fingered the ribbon in her hair, admiring her brother's work in the window's reflection. "You tie it so well, Brother…"

"Huh? Ah, thank you, but focus Lili. The others—"

"I understand, Brother."

He cut himself off, looked to her in surprise. At first, he thought he'd misheard her – she just kept staring out the window at the slowing landscape. It looked cold out; there was snow everywhere. They had both seen snow before, but never in this great a quantity. Vash was about to continue when she spoke again.

"I understand, Brother. No talking to strangers, be on guard. Just as you've always taught me." She turned to him, eyes bright and warm. "I know. But I want…" She paused, took a deep breath as the train rolled to a slow stop, then continued, looking him dead in the eye. "I want you to care for yourself, too."

And before Vash could even think of a proper thing to reply, the door to their compartment slid open, and two Tributes stepped in.

The very first thing Vash did was get a faceful of manchest.

The larger of the two had come in without looking around quite properly, and in an attempt to make room in small space for his friend, he very nearly smothered Vash.

"B-Brother…!"

"Mmphgh!"

The tall man glanced to the distressed girl at his side, before starting at the sight of the young man he seemed to be crushing. He stumbled back in surprise, only to knock into his companion who'd just managed to get in. As he went tumbling and the first man made to catch him, Vash was left glaring and gasping for breath. He barely noticed Lili's concern as he glared heatedly at the crouching figure of his enemy. If he had his gun right now—

And then, having determined his small friend was alright, the man stood up.

Dear God this man was a giant.

He towered over the siblings, six foot at least, broad shouldered and strong. His expression was no less intimidating – icy blue eyes glared from behind wire framed glasses, and he looked as though he wanted the world and everything in it utterly decimated for how badly it wronged him.

Lili squeaked beside him, and Vash scooted closer to her protectively. He straightened, eyes just as hard, because while yes, he was impressed with the man's size and recognized him as a worthy opponent in the Games, he was not at all intimidated by him. He wouldn't risk letting himself seem like an easy target, and if that man didn't step out of his personal space at once

"S'rry, 're you 'lright?"

Vash blinked, utterly bewildered, as a large hand took up his vision. Before he could really react, the man grabbed his hand and hoisted him up, dusting off his front and shoulders. The man hummed in approval, nodding once despite the complete lack of emotion on his face. "Th're. S'rry 'gain."

For their part, the two siblings were completely bowled over. What the hell? For the record, the man still looked like he wanted to kill them, but now Vash couldn't help but wonder.

Suddenly, a voice piped from somewhere behind the stoic tower. "Ah, sorry about all that. We're not very used to things like this – big trains and all." A boy with pale blonde hair and wide, kind violet eyes appeared from behind his companion, a bright smile on his face. He took off his white cap and shook out the snow, laughing lightly.

"We haven't introduced ourselves, have we? I'm Tino Väinämöinen from District Seven, and this is—"

"B'rwald Ox'n'st'rna." The giant – Berwald – mumbled, before gripping Tino's hand warmly in his. "This is m'wife."

…Talk about awkward.

"S-Su-san!" Tino was blushing to the roots of his pale hair, and he whacked Berwald's upper arm with his free hand. "We've been through this before, Berwald – I am not your wife." But he was trying to suppress a smile, and if Vash didn't know better, he'd have sworn the (Swedish? He was guessing here) large Swede was pouting.

"I think it's very sweet," Lili said quietly from his left, and he looked to her in surprise. He pushed away the initial frown; she was just being polite, like he'd taught her. No harm here.

Tino smiled at her, and patted Berwald's hand warmly. "Yes, he is." He paused to give the object of their conversation a fond look, nudging him affectionately, before turning wide eyes to Vash and his sister.

"And you're Vash and Lili Zwingli, yes?"

Vash coughed into his fist a bit and held out a hand to each in turn, nodding curtly. "Vash Zwingli of District Five."

Lili shook hands politely. "Lili Zwingli, it's a pleasure."

"It's nice to meet you both," Tino greeted, and Berwald grunted his agreement with a nod.

"We saw your Reaping back home," Tino said after a minute of silence, when the train started to roll again. Vash nodded to show he heard, but otherwise didn't respond. The cheerful blonde across from him continued anyway. "We were very touched, what you did for your sister. What you both did for each other – it's not something you see often enough anymore."

Vash looked at him quickly, eyes hard and skeptical, but he saw sincerity in the other's face. He was being honest, and the Swiss didn't quite know how to take this.

"G'd thing y'did," Berwald put in, and a glance to his bright blue eyes could tell he meant it too, "Adm'r'ble."

"Thank you." He said flatly, hoping this would end the conversation. It didn't seem to be working, but just at that moment the door opened for the third time and they were called for dinner.

Which came in courses.

Vash was sickened thoroughly enough by the whole ordeal and how goddamn expensive it all was – if there was one thing the elder Zwingli couldn't stand, it was useless spending – that he was fully able to conceal any emotion as he ate.

Lili, although he could tell she was properly awed by the sheer amount and grandeur of it, remained ladylike and polite, and Vash felt a swell of pride. Tino and Berwald as well ate with respectable manners, much to the surprise of the Hetalia officials accompanying them.

One pair of waiters continuously gushed about how absolutely splendid it was to have tributes with table manners, that in previous years they'd had to deal with people who inhaled everything like pigs. By the end of their meal, Tino was shaking from how upset he was, smile barely intact; Berwald was giving a glare of complete disgust and fury that positively sent servers running (Vash now understood that the glare he had received earlier held absolutely no malice whatsoever – but this one even made him want to run and cry); and Lili's hands were folded in her lap, knuckles taut, eyes hurt and trained on the ground.

It was this more than anything else prompted Vash to react the way he did when one waiter made the comment: "Why, last year, our tributes were so horrendous they even died like animals."

Said reaction involved the enraged Swiss teen bolding from his seat, chair toppling backwards with a crash, arm drawn back to punch the waiter in the throat.

Berwald made it first.

A large, strong fist connected with an unsuspecting nose, and the waiter was sent rocketing backwards into a wall, glass cups in his hands shattering and flying projectile everywhere. Before the man had the time to gasp in surprise, long fingers closed around his throat and hoisted him up, pinning him to the wall behind him.

"Y'made Tino 'nd the little girl cry," He ground out between gritted teeth eyes murderous. " 'Pologize. Now."

In one swift movement Berwald had swung the man around and slammed his upper torso into the table, rattling the silverware there, and jerked his head so he was staring at a shocked Lili and Tino.

"I-I'm… s-sorry…" He squeaked, voice octaves higher than what it had been moments earlier. Berwald grunted and released him, watching as the man slid to the floor and scrambled back, beside himself with terror. He pointed a shaking finger at Berwald, who had turned his back on him in favor of wiping tears from Tino's eyes.

"Y-You're a monster," he laughed hysterically, and the Swede didn't even turn. "Not even that. You're lower than an animal. You're a filthy, stinking tribu—"

The crunching of china underfoot was what stopped him from finishing the word, and he turned to see Vash standing over him, bright green gaze cold as ice.

"You!" The waiter grabbed at his pant leg, clearly not catching how Vash sidestepped and sneered in disgust, "You're reasonable; please, control that brutish thing—"

He was effectively cut off for a second time, this time by a heavy boot on his chest, pressing just hard enough to elicit a squeal of pain. Vash leaned down slowly, words quiet but thick with barely suppressed rage. "Berwald let you off easy. But I swear that if you say one more word about the tributes, about us – in fact, if we even see your face again, I will kill you with my bare hands."

The man's head bobbed fervently, and he scurried away the moment the boot was lifted. Vash quietly retook his place next to Lili and finished off the last of his dessert – despite how severely his stomach protested to such a sudden, rich meal, he hated wasting, and he would be damned before he vomited in front of Lili – as more servers scuttled in and out to clean the mess, this time completely silent.

Berwald, after being sure that Tino was okay and giving a concerned hum in Lili's direction, to which she quickly assured him she was fine, sat down again and followed Vash's example, eating calmly as though they hadn't just made a man shit his pants.

The Swiss teen had to admit, as he silently polished his plate, his respect for the two sitting across from him had grown exponentially. He certainly didn't want to say so, but his two 'enemies' were definitely good people.

At that moment, Berwald lifted his clear gaze, and Vash couldn't look away fast enough. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks; to get caught staring was embarrassing enough, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

The tall man was openly staring back now, expression blank (at least, Vash assumed it was blank; at first glance he looked to be absolutely livid but he couldn't be sure) as his spoon hovered inches from his mouth. The smaller blonde was about to avert his gaze elsewhere when the man across from him gave a simple gesture that left Vash wide eyed.

The corner of his mouth, just barely, quirked upwards, and he gave him a solemn nod. That was it – no words, no signs. Just a barely-there nod and a maybe-smile before he returned to eating. That, and Vash could have sworn he saw a glimmer of admiration in the ice blue eyes.

He had no idea how, but the two groups had somehow managed to gain a wordless respect for each other.

The rational part of his brain told him no, relations to the two you will be forced to kill is a bad thing, but he couldn't stop the small smile from tweaking his own lips.

Before the silence could reign any longer, Tino began piping cheesy jokes one after the other, clearly determined to keep the atmosphere comfortable. After a quick glance to Vash, who gave a barely noticeable shrug of indifference (which Lili knew to be a 'yes' when it came to her brother) the small girl indulged the platinum blonde, the polite little smile growing brighter and more real.

Each joke was equally horrible, but Lili was clearly enjoying it, and that was good enough for him. In fact, the whole situation was rather comical; almost endearing, but that would be ridiculous. Vash Zwingli, serious, neutral (because shooting any and everything that crossed him without discrimination was a form of neutrality, dammit), wary and careful Vash Zwingli, was not enjoying their company. He wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't

"Alright then, time to watch the recap!"

More Hetalia officials burst in, busily cleared the table before bustling them into another cramped room. Vash frowned and shook off the many flitting hands trying to shove him through the door, taking Lili's hand and leading her through protectively.

The four were sat on two small couches, one for Tino and Berwald and the other for the siblings. Before them was a large screen implanted into the wall. As they watched, it flashed to life, glowing magnificent colors and pictures. A television. They had them back in the districts, but most of the ones there were very small, and only owned by the richest few. There was one huge one in the middle of the square, large and imposing, but that was only used during the Hunger Games and Vash and Lili tried not to watch those.

"Wow…" Tino's eyes were wide as he stared at the screen, in total awe, "It's so bright…"

For a moment, the Swiss competitor wondered if the young man across from him was putting on a veil of feign innocence to win over the Hetalia agents, because they certainly were taken with him. They cooed and patted his head, but the thought was dismissed too quickly for Vash's liking. He was used to being wary, suspicious of his surroundings and the people in them; it was what got him and Lili through their harsh district alive. Never trust anyone, always assume the worst.

But with these two, he was near positive that Tino wasn't faking it, that Berwald wasn't trying to gain his trust to stab him in the back later. Good, honest people. And this certainly unnerved him.

"These are the Reapings of all twelve districts," a woman to his right trilled, clicking the volume up on some small remote he couldn't see. "You'll be seeing the other competitors for the first time here."

There was a swelling tightness in Vash's chest as he watched the flashing screen, but he refused to register the emotion as fear. It wasn't that he was weak – he knew he could be a deadly killer and stood a fair chance in the Games, especially if he had a gun – it was that all the other opponents clearly weren't weak either.

The Games were never fair; it was a fact that every member of every district knew, and, more than likely, so did the people in Hetalia. The Reapings were supposed to be random, yet every year there were only a few women. This year there were so far only two drawn – Lili being one, and as Vash just saw, a very pretty young woman named Elizaveta paired with a cheerful young Spaniard named Antonio – and he doubted there would be any more. And as it happened, all the men that were chosen just turned out to be strong (to make for more exciting, violent and bloody Games because that action was priceless in the capital), and attractive (to please the crowd aesthetically).

Coincidentally, of course.

And this year was no exception. Vash swallowed thickly as he watched the different competitors take the stage, the only constant being the bright face of Bella, and Lili squeezed his hand tightly.

Some stood out, if only for their impressive size, comparable even to Berwald. A large Russian by the name of Ivan Braginski, in particular, with a kind smile that just seemed so horribly wrong on him and sent shivers rippling up and down Vash's spine. Only when the large man turned and gave a hearty slap on the back to the one behind him did Vash actually notice his partner. Contrary to Ivan's unnervingly calm exterior, the second tribute looked completely awash with shock, bright green eyes darkened with something akin to despair. His chocolaty brown hair fell limply to his chin, framing an unhealthily pale face. Toris Laurinitis, that was his name. And by the look of it, he and the Russian twice his size knew each other.

Watching as the shaking brunette tried for a smile for the sake of a small group of friends that had followed the pair to the stage but hadn't climbed up, Vash felt a swell of sympathy. This youth seemed genuinely kind, good, and that was just by looking at him. A glance to the others told him they felt the same. Once again, it was that disconcerting lack of mistrust, and the blonde frowned; he just seemed so docile, so unthreatening. Like he was too good to be part of this horrible event. Like Tino and Berwald. Like Lili.

No. Vash steeled himself and mentally shook away the bothersome thoughts. It didn't matter whether it was fair or not. What was done was done, and that was it.

An instant later and Bella was up on another identical stage, but the names she shouted was different – this time, "Lili Zwingli!" was boomed across the expanse of the crowd, the silence thick with dread. The camera focused in expertly on a small girl of fourteen, flitting bravely to the stage, ribbon fluttering.

And then there was Vash, shouting and calling, desperately shoving people aside. It was a strange experience, watching himself as he rushed for the stage – what was the phrase? 'Out of body', that was it. He saw himself step before his sister, expression determined as he declared he would be joining her, composure regained. The last thing the camera caught before flicking away to the next Reaping was the quiet embrace the siblings shared, and then they were gone.

Vash could feel the blood rush all the way to the tips of his ears as Tino smiled his way, Berwald nodded, and Lili squeezed his hand. He coughed into his free fist and focused intently on the next pair mounting the stage; two men in their late twenties named Heracles and Sadiq. By the looks of it, the two did not get along well, and were exchanging threats by the time the next district took the screen.

Cheerful as ever, Bella greeted the crowd and drew Tino's name from the large bowl. Without missing a beat, a loud, deep voice called out into the night, "M'goin' too!"

It wasn't a suggestion, it was a statement. A very firm statement, the kind that had undertones of 'disagree with me and your life will meet an untimely end'. Sure enough, the imposing figure of Berwald took the screen, Tino frozen in shock and horror beside him.

That didn't last long.

It was then that Vash learned of Tino's volatile temper. Berwald hadn't taken two steps to the stage when Tino drop kicked him. The taller man was sent flying, crashing ungracefully to the ground with a five foot mass of pissed off Tino towering over him.

"What the fuck are you thinking, Berwald? The Hunger Games? What are you, stupid?"

Berwald grunted incoherently as he began pulling himself up, only to receive a powerful fist to the jaw. Once again he was propelled backwards, back cracking against the front of the stage. The crowd, Bella, and the viewers (Vash included) could do nothing but watch in stunned silence as Tino rushed up to him, grabbed him by the color and hauled him up, eyes burning.

"Take it back," He hissed lowly, teeth bared. He seemed feral, and it was all Vash could do not to flinch at the intensity of his glare. He shook the man before him roughly.

"Did you hear me? I said take it back, damn it! You're not coming with me!"

Berwald seemed unfazed, and shook his head once, expression blank.

Tino was livid. "Berwald, so help me, take it back!"

Slowly, the Swede straightened, and shook his head again. " 'M goin' with you."

"No!" Tino shoved him brutally, "No! You're not coming!"

" 'M goin'."

"You're not! I don't want you with me!"

" 'M going, Tino."

"You're—!" The small Nordic brought a fist down on Berwald's broad chest, and his eyes were wide and desperate now. "You can't—!"

"I am."

Tino hit him again, and again, but they lacked the original power. He was shaking and sniffling, words broken. "Y-You can't, Berwald… P-Please, I don't… I d-don't want you to d-die…!"

Without hesitation, Berwald reached forward and gathered the trembling frame into his arms, humming quietly, soothingly. After a moment, he gently led a still hiccupping Tino up to the stage, mumbling words in Swedish to him that Vash couldn't understand.

By the time they reached Bella, whose eyes were still wide with bewilderment, Tino had regained most of his composure. Berwald addressed the host gruffly, snapping her back to attention.

" 'M B'rwald Ox'nst'rna. M'wife 'nd I'll be in th'Hunger Games."

At that, both smaller blondes blinked up at him, one with dewy eyed surprise and the other just in confusion, To Bella's credit though, she charmingly rolled along with it, quickly bringing the atmosphere back to its previous state.

One would have to pay close attention to catch the way Tino slipped his hand into Berwald's, a small, teary smile on his face as he pulled him down and whispered in his ear. The words were foreign, Finnish if he had to take a stab, so Vash didn't understand – but he could guess.

"Minä rakastan sinua."

Vash stole a glance at the pair on the next couch. Tino, colored scarlet with embarrassment, was squeezing Berwald's hand tightly, and leaning heavily into his side. As for the large Swede himself, his face remained stony and expressionless, but his eyes were glowing and bright with a tender warmth as he gazed down at the smaller one beside him.

And Vash wanted to smile.

"He said he got his inspiration from you, you know."

Vash blinked in surprise, struggling to focus in on what Tino was saying. "E-Excuse me?"

Tino smiled. "When he colunteered to go with me. He said it was because of what you did for your sister."

"A-Ah…" Well, this was uncomfortable, "Um. Thank you, but…" He drew a blank, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. He was greatful when Lili chimed in with: "I'm sure Berwald would have done it anyway."

Tino laughed lightly, pressing further into Berwald's slide. His violet eyes were sincere. "Even so, thank you both."

After a second Vash recovered from his initial shock, cheeks tinted pink, and nodded once before returning his attention to the screen. The Eighth District Reaping was about to end with a nearly identical pair of Italian brothers, one cursing colorfully, while the other tried to remain optimistic, but both were ashen and shaking.

The older Zwingli frowned deeply – again with the sympathy. Soon the brothers were gone, and the Ninth District stage appeared. Bella, for the ninth time, dove into the promotions for the Games. By the time she actually got to the name drawing, the crowd was swaying with anticipation and anxiety.

Bella withdrew the tiny white slip with a flourish, and read clearly, "Mathias Kohler!"

Vash continued watching with little interest as a tall young man, about the same size as Berwald, strode confidently to the stage, grinning from ear to ear. But, Vash noticed his hands were shaking at his sides. What he failed to notice was the way the two in the seat beside him stiffened the moment the name passed the announcer's lips.

Shaking Mathias' hand enthusiastically, Bella returned to the bowl and read out the next name:

"Lukas Bondevik!"

A slight, serious looking boy floated up to the stage, shaking out of the grip of the one assumed to be his brother. The tribute had pale, straightforward blue eyes, and a stoic expression that could match Vash's and probably beat it, he had to admit.

He calmly drifted onto the platform, accepted Bella's congratulations with an emotionless nod, and only showed the slightest flicker of irritation when Mathias picked him up and swung him round, laughing loudly. He got a firm punch to the gut from the smaller one for it.

Clearly the two knew each other and were close and Vash might have smiled at the display if not for the sudden squeak to his side.

Glancing over, he was shocked to find that Berwald and Tino had both gone completely rigid, both sets of eyes wide and disbelieving. Berwald sat straight and stiff, jaw clenched and lips pulled downward ever so slightly. Tino's eyes had become globular, one hand up and covering his mouth. Slowly, he lowered it, voice barely even a whisper.

"M-Mathias…? Lukas…?" His violet eyes filled with tears, and he turned desperately to the stock-still man beside him, a hopeful smile forming. "Berwald, can it be? Is it really them…?"

The man didn't answer, eyes still glued to the screen despite the fact that the two had already disappeared.

"C'n't be…"

"Do you know those two?" All three tributes looked to the last in surprise. Lili watched them with concern in her eyes, waiting quietly. Tino recovered first, sniffling with a laugh and wiping at his eyes.

"Yes, we do. Berwald and I lived most of our lives in District Nine, and those two…" He chuckled and shook his head, pulling the snowy white cap down in order to run a hand through pale blonde locks. "They and Lukas' little brother, Ice, they were like brothers to us. We were a family," His voice broke on the last word, and Berwald wrapped an arm around him comfortingly.

"I never thought we'd see them again." The hand returned to his mouth, and his eyes closed as he tried to suppress tears, and came away with a shuddering gasp. He forced a smile and stood, expression caught somewhere between joy and pain. He excused himself and hurried out, Berwald quick to follow.

As the siblings exchanged glances, Vash felt some Unknown-But-Very-Irritating force pull at his heart strings, because really, what else was more painful than that? Not only being forced to fight one person you love, but two? He found that he couldn't imagine it, no matter how much he tried, because to him Lili was everything, no one else.

Maybe when he was younger he'd have felt differently, but no. Not anymore; there was no way that he could even begin to replicate the emotional turmoil those two must be going through. And this brought on a sense of sympathy to compensate, which was quickly becoming his least favorite word.

He couldn't help but wonder, however. Surely it was no coincidence for all the tributes to have relations. Whether they were brothers or enemies, they all seemed to know each other well. Out of the twelve duos there was maybe only two sets of strangers, and he found himself doubting that Tino and Berwald were the only ones in this situation, of knowing and being able to do nothing when it came to fighting people they cared for. For fist clenched unconsciously; how much worse could it get? How much more hell could those damn Hetalia Game makers, those bloodthirsty viewers and officials, the bastard President himself put them through?

How much more would they have to suffer?

"Brother, look,"

Lili was peering out the window, wide eyed, as the train sped to a growing dot on the horizon. Still inwardly seething, he scooted over, and gazed curiously (if not grudgingly for he already knew what he'd see) out the glass—

And his breath was stolen from his lungs.

The capital was nothing short of brilliance. Shining, bright and stunning; he couldn't even work a scowl onto his face he was so blown away. His stomach rolled and dropped in a way he was most unfamiliar with – a distinct feeling of anticipation, of excitement, of child-like wonder.

It made him nauseous.

Because wrapped within and around them all was a sickening, terrible feeling of foreboding, weighing him down as though an anchor had been tied to his ankle and he'd been pushed into the middle of the ocean and told to swim for shore.

His previous thoughts floated and roiled back to his mind, demanding attention viciously: how much more will we have to suffer?

As the city grew steadily greater and more miraculous, Vash had the sinking feeling that they would soon find out.

FINALLY. Holy crap, if that was not a huge-ass chapter. I don't even know, guys. The Zwingli siblings and two of the Nordics? WHAT? I just… Don't even ask. Just… Just don't.

Next chapter is similar to this one, a train ride for four different Tributes. I know it's slow going, guys, but hopefully it'll be entertaining enough to keep you guys reading and REVIEWING. Because, like the pathetic author I am, I can only continue this with reviews. I'm not like those cool writers who write for themselves and keep going even if their awesome story isn't getting the reviews it deserves. Unfortunately for whoever cares, I kind of have that problem where I immediately think whatever I wrote sucks and like a noob need strangers to tell me otherwise. Because… that's… totally normal. Yeah. XD

ANYWAY. Aside from my extreme ranting: thanks for sticking with this uber long chapter, PLEASE REVIEW, and hopefully you'll all still be here in a few days when I post the next chapter! Any guesses who the next pairs will be? I'll give you a hint: the first pair you meet is NOT any of the ones briefly mentioned in the recap Vash and co. watched. The second pair is. XD

There was a silence