Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor the characters, they belong to Himaruya Hidekaz-sensei. Hunger Games series belongs to Suzanne Collins.

A/N:OTL I fail as an author and as a person and all and… gomen. I'm so very, very terribly sorry. School and my academics are pretty much the main reason for the lack of chapters. I have high school entrance exams at the end of this month, and I'm going to study extra hard, so I probably won't write more chapter in April. The exams are really important, and I can't let myself to be unprepared for them. Also, I had a contest, which I didn't win, unfortunately, but at least I did my best (and I'm pretty satisfied with the score, since I had 84%, hehe!). Anyway, I had to study a lot for it (about English-speaking countries), so it took my time also. Anyway, for all of these who'll continue reading this, thank you for your patience and I'm sorry for the wait.

I'd like to especially thank few people, mostly Senpai, Hime and Niki, for being my inspiration, support, for refraining from killing me and shipping the weirdest ships together with me!

To all of the readers, I love you all very dearly. Thank you for the support and please don't give up on me, I'll try to make up for it in May, June, and following months. Now then, off we go~:

Chapter 10: Let the Games begin

For a moment, the cameras are focused on Antonio's face, his downcast green eyes, as what he says finally sinks in. Then, instead of his, my face takes place on the huge screens. My expression is a mix of surprise, protest and horror, magnified on every screen as I, too, realize. Me! That fucking idiotic son of a bitch means me! I bite my lip and dig the nails in my palms, trying to suppress the huge amount of emotions that is slowly boiling inside of me.

"That's really some terrible luck, boy" Tino says softly, but there's an edge of pain in his voice. The crowd moans in agony as well, as if agreeing with him on that matter.

"It could have been better" tomato bastard agrees, a faint, pained smile on his face. Tino looks even more devastated at that.

"I don't think I can blame you, dear Antonio. I don't think any of us can. Lovino is a very charming young man. It'd be hard not to fall for an amazing person like him" the presenter says "He didn't know?"

Antonio shakes his head "Not until now, no"

I look up at the screen and stare at my face, or more like my cheeks, painted red from the unmistakable blush. Shit, why do I have to be the blushing type?

"Wouldn't you love to pull him back out here and get a response?" Tino asks the audience. My eyes widen at the idea. My head is completely blank, I wouldn't be able to answer anything, not even punch the fucking bastard! The crowd screams assent, and a panic slowly raises inside of me "Sadly, rules are rules, and we cannot let Lovino enter the stage again, since his time has been spent" I immidietly relax at that.

"I'd actually like to give him some privacy and let him answer me without the cameras" Antonio says with pinked cheeks and glances at me. I hope I don't look to murderous.

"That's very thoughtful and romantic of you, though that would be keeping us in the dark and that would just kill me!" Tino exclaims, and the audiance agrees with him again "Well, best of luck for you, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, both in the games and in love. I'm pretty sure I'm speaking for all of the Panem when I say our hearts go with yours"

The roar of crowd is deafening. He's done it. Even though he was the absolute last person out there, he had managed to wipe out the rest of us with his declaration of love for me. When the audience finally settles down, he chokes out a "Gracias" and returns to his seat. We stand for the anthem. I detest the fact that, out of pure respect which I don't have, I need to raise my head. What I hate even more are the shots of me and Antonio, separated by only few feet, that in their eyes can never be breached. The poor, tragic us, cursed by fate and forced to fight against each other. Tragic lovers. But I know better. There's no love. There's no romance. There's tragedy, but one that doesn't concern the both of us. It concerns me and my family. Him and his. Little Emma's and hers. All of the other tributes and their families'. But it's not a tragic love. It never was, it never will be.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training Center lobby and onto the elevators, ready to take them back on their floor. I make sure to get into a car that doesn't have a certain Antonio Fernández Carriedo in it. The crowd slows down our stylists, chaperons, mentors, everyone, so we only have each other for company. No one speaks. My elevator deposits four tributes before I'm left alone. Not long after I reach the twelfth floor and step out. At the same moment, Antonio walks out from his elevator and we stand face to face. His mouth opens, but I'm quicker. I slam my palms on his chest in fury. He loses his balance and crushes on an ugly vase with fake flowers in it. Because of the pressure, the vase falls down and crushes on millions of pieces, tomato bastard falling right on the shreds. There's blood flowing out from his hands, and I feel a little bit better at that. He deserves that.

"What was that for?" he says, aghast.

"You had no fucking right!" I scream, glaring into his green eyes "You had no fucking right to go and say all of these things about me!" The elevator opens and now the whole crew is there. Feliks, Carlos, Kiku and Yao are all here now.

"What's going on?" Feliks says in a hysterical voice, glancing from me to the traitor on the floor "Did you fall?!"

"Yeah. After he shoved me!" says Antonio, as both of the stylist help him up. Yao looks a little bit panicked, however Kiku's face is unreadable, as always. Carlos turns to me with furrowed eyebrows.

"Shoved him?" there's a dangerous note in his voice, but I don't care.

"This was your idea, wasn't it? Turning me into some kind of an idiot in front of the entire country?! Making me a laughing stock of the whole Panem?!"

"It was my idea, Lovino" Antonio says, wincing as he pulls out the shreds of pottery from his hands. The really are cut in many places. "Carlos just helped me with it"

"Oh, well, that's fantastic! He's so fucking helpful, shame that only towards you!" I spat, glaring at the both of them. I hate them. I hate them so fucking much. Why am I the bad one again? Why am I always the bad one?

"You are a fool, brat" drunk bastard says with disgust. There's no sadness or guilt over what he just said. Just anger, and I'm glad. Because I'm not weak enough to get bothered by what that son of a bitch says "Do you think he hurt you? That boy just gave you something that you could never achieve on your own, you ungrateful fool"

"He made me look weak!" I protest.

"He made you look desirable! And let's be honest there, you need all help possible in that department. You're about as romantic as dirt, and during your presentation, you were as romantic as some dead rat, though it might offend the poor animal! But then he said he wanted you. And now they all do. You're all they're talking about now! Star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!"

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" I say.

Carlos grabs my shoulders and pins me to the wall. His breath reeks of alcohol and it takes all of my strength to not elbow him in the stomach and run away "Who cares! It's all a big show! That's all you are to the people here! Puppets in a show, made to entertain them! That's how you all are perceived here! The only thing I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, and that itself was a small miracle. After his interview, I saw you in a light of a heartbreaker. How, back in Twelve, boys and girls fall to your feet longingly. How they all want you, crave you! Which do you think will get you more sponsors?" his breathing is making me sick. I shove his hands off my shoulders and step away, inhaling some fresh air.

Kiku comes over and puts an arm around my shoulder. Somehow, it automatically makes me feel better and I relax a little "He's right, Lovino-kun"

I look at him, somewhat afraid of an expression I might see. But he's smiling reassuringly, and all of my anger fades away. "You should have told me, at least. So that I wouldn't look so damn stupid"

"No, your reaction was perfect, aru. If you'd known, your face wouldn't look so real. I doubt you'd blush, too. It was a very nice touch, by the way" Yao says, patting my head. It doesn't feel annoying, either. Huh, the stylists are seriously weird. Normally, I'd punch anyone for touching me, but somehow, I don't mind if it's the two of them.

"He's just worried about his boyfriend" Antonio says gruffly, tossing away a bloody piece of urn.

My cheeks burn at the thought of albino bastard. Oh God, he must have laughed to death tonight. Either because he thinks it's a miracle that someone might have fallen in love with me, or because of the 'There are a lot of people in the district that like him' lie. His laughing face pops up in my head, along with his mocking voice. My blush deepens "Gil's not my fucking boyfriend" I choke out, staring at the floor. Shit, I hate my gens. Why can't it be Feli, the sweet lovely Feli, who blushes a lot? Why fucking me?

Carlos is looking at me with disbelieving eyes. Stupid bastard, I bet me having a lover hasn't even cross his mind. Well, I don't have a lover, but that bastard shouldn't be so shocked by a possibility of me having one, goddammit!

"Whatever" Antonio rolls his eyes "And I never said I meant him when I said boyfriend" he adds, though it sounds bitter. I realize my mistake for saying Gilbert's name and curse my stupidity.

"Well for your information, he's kinda the only person you could mean" Shit, it sounded pretty fucking weird, too "The albino bastard's pretty much my only friend, if that makes you feel better, Mr. Popular" that didn't come out bitter, did it? Antonio stares at me, and shrugs.

"I bet he's smart enough to know the bluff when he sees it, anyway. Besides, you didn't say you loved me. So what's the matter?"

The words are sinking in. The reality, my position, those are sinking in, too. I think back about my performance. I answered some questions, but other than that, I was a spinning mess in a sparkling creation of gods. There was nothing more to me, and my only moment of glory was when I was talking about Feli. Because that's the most emotional I got. Compared to Lars, I'm forgettable. Not wholly, since there's still my 11 from the session, but I definitely didn't gain any supporters and sponsors.

But now Antonio has made me an object of love and desire. Not just his. He said I have many admires, and even though it's not true in the least, Capitol doesn't know at all. And if they really think that the two of us are in love… I remember how strongly they reacted to just his confession. They must be dying to know my answer. Star-crossed lovers. Carlos is right, they eat up this kind of thing in the Capitol. It excites them, interests them. Shit, what if I didn't react properly? Knowing me, I might have looked pretty murderous at some point.

"After to- Antonio said he loves me… do you think I could have been in love with him, too?" I ask. There's a bit of a pause, and I can feel tomato bastard's intense gaze on me. I try to ignore it.

"I did! In my opinion, you could have felt very strongly about him. The way you avoided looking at the cameras, the blush… it was perfect, aru" Yao says reassuringly. The others chime in, agreeing.

"You're golden, sweetheart. The sponsors are going to line up to get to the two of you. They already love you" drunk bastard says, slapping my arm lightly.

I'm embarrassed about my behavior earlier. I did and said some terrible things, not considering the circumstances. I can feel another blush forming on my face, and a lump forming in my throat, but I try to suppress them both. I turn to Antonio and look at his bleeding hands. A part of me is still happy for having done that. For making him suffer, just a little. Because he's still a bastard, no matter who he pretends to be. But I feel bad and guilty, too. His hands will be a vital point to his survival in the Games. He will need them a lot. He's helped me, and all I did in return was give him an injury. Will I never stop owing him? "I'm sorry for shoving you" I apologize quickly, glancing at his face briefly. He looks bored.

"Doesn't matter" he shrugs, and it pisses me off. He should be fucking angry at me for doing that. He should shove me right back. He should call me something offensive. Anything! "Though it's technically illegal"

"Are they okay?" I ask, ignoring his last question. He stares at me blankly. What is he, stupid? "Your hands. Are they okay?"

"They'll be alright" he answers, looking away from me. I don't know what else to say, so I look at the floor. I hate this kind of silence. It's awkward and heavy, and no one ever knows what to say. It's not the silence from the woods that I'm used to. It's the one that falls between me and my classmates in school back home, or when I'm around strangers. I hate it. It makes me want to scream in frustration, and that's, as Gil always says, unawesomely pathetic as hell. But then, thankfully, a delicious smell of our dinner flows in from the dining room, and Carlos breaks the silence.

"Come on, you two brats must be hungry. Let's eat" We all follow him to the table and take our places, but Antonio has to be led out a little bit later, because his hands are bleeding too much. Yao takes him to a medical room. We start a creamy rose-petal soup without them, but I can't really enjoy it. Tomato bastard and his stylist come back few minutes later. I look at Antonio's hands, now covered with bandages, and the guilt from before is becoming stronger. I'm such an ungrateful idiot.

After dinner, we watch the reply in the sitting room. I seem stupid and shallow, twirling around in Kiku's creation, although the otters reassure me I am charming. I somehow don't believe them for my life. The one that's charming is actually Antonio, and with his confession, he's absolutely winning as a boy in love. And there I am, blushing and confused, made beautiful by Kiku's hands, desirable by tomato bastard's confession, tragic my circumstances, and by all, unforgettable.

When the anthem finishes, the screen goes dark and we sit in deafening silence. Tomorrow at down, we will be raised and prepared for the arena. The games won't start until ten o'clock, since a lot of residents in Capitol aren't really early morning birds, but we still have to get up earlier. There's no telling how far we'll have to go to the arena.

I know drinking and pink bastards won't be going with us. Right after leaving here, they'll be going to the Games Headquarters, and hopefully, they'll have their hands full with signing up sponsors for us, and working on a strategy on how and when to deliver the gifts to us. Kiku and Yao will travel with us to the very spot, from where we will be launched into the arena. Still, the final goodbyes will have to be said there. They won't be coming with us any further.

Feliks takes us both by our hands and, with actual tears in his light green eyes, wishes us well. Thanks us for being the best tributes it has ever been his privilege to sponsor. And then, because it's Feliks and it would apparently be something strange for him not to say something terrible, he adds "Maybe thanks to the two of you, I will, like, finally be promoted to a better district next year!"

He kisses us both on the cheeks and hurries out, with tears streaming down his pale face. Carlos crosses his arms and looks at Antonio and I, from heads to toes.

"Any words of final advice?" tomato bastard asks, not even bothering to smile anymore. Is it because we're so close to the actual Games? Maybe. But I feel better, knowing that he's done with his fake friendship game.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. Neither of you is up to the bloodbath at Cornucopia. If you go there, there's only death left for you. You've got to clear out, put as much distance between yourself and other tributes, and find a source or water" he says, nodding at both of us. "Got it?"

"And after that?" I ask.

"Stay alive" he answers. It's the same thing he's told us in the train when we were coming to Capitol, but this time he's not drunk and laughing. This time he's dead serious. And we just nod. What else is there to say, really? When I head to my room, Antonio stays to talk with Yao. I'm glad. I have no idea what to say to him, and any words of weird farewells can wait until tomorrow. When I enter my room, my bed is already prepared, however there's no sight of the beautiful Avox girl. I wish I knew her name. I know there's no way for her to tell me with her voice, since she's lost it with her tongue. But maybe she could write it down. Or act it out perhaps. But there's a possibility that it would only result in punishment for her. I wouldn't want that. She's already been through a lot, she doesn't deserve more pain.

I take a shower and scrub off everything that I'm not. The gold paint, the scent of beauty, everything. The only thing left from my stylist's efforts are nails, with painted flame designs on them. I decide to keep them in order to remind me who I am to the audience. Lovino Vargas, the boy who was on fire. Perhaps it will give me something to hold on to in the days to come. Perhaps not. Only future knows.

I pull on thick, dark green pajama pants and climb into bed. I feel too hot to wear a shirt of any sort. The warmth emitting from the blankets seems to burn my skin, so I kick them off the bed. It takes me about five seconds to realize I'll never fall asleep, and another two to realize that I have to fall asleep. Every second that I'll spare for fatigue in the arena might bring me closer to death. Hell, it might get me killed. I have to fall asleep. I take one of the pillows and cover my eyes with it, embracing it with both of my arms tightly. I lay there for an hour, two, three, but my eyelids refuse to close. They aren't heavy at all. I can't stop trying to imagine where I'll be thrown into. A dessert? A swamp? A frigid wasteland? I'm hoping for some trees, at least. They can provide me shelter and maybe some food, too. There are usually some, because without them, the Games are solved too quickly and the audience is bored and unsatisfied. But what will the climate be like? Hot? Cold? Livable? And what sort of traps have the Gamemakers hidden, ready to activate them in slower moments of the Games? And then, of course, there are my dear, fucking fellow tributes, ready to pierce me with spears, chop me with knives, strangle me to death with their hands and poison me with some herbs. I hope I won't die from the last one, that would be shameful.

The more anxious I am, the less is the probability of me getting any sleep at all. Soon I can't even stay in bed. I pace in the room, my breathing shallow and my heart beating too fast. I try to calm myself down with images of home. But instead of Feli's laughing face, I can hear his screams from the day of the reaping. Instead of Gilbert's jokes, I see his grim face. I remember my mother's desperate state after papà's death, and hope that she's not like that right now, not when Feli needs her. Then there's a flash of an explosion in the mines, and I find it hard to breath. The room feels like a prison cell, preventing me from escape. There seems to be no fresh air, just a poisonous gas feeling my lungs. If I don't get air soon, I'm going to start throwing things again. Or I'll hurt myself. Or someone. Or all of the above. I run down the hall to the door to the roof. Not only is it unlocked, but also ajar. Maybe someone forgot to close it. Frankly, I don't care. It's better for me. The energy fields are preventing anyone from making a desperate escape. But it's not like I came here to escape. I came here to get some air and look at the sky and the moon, for the last time when I can be relaxed. Starting from tomorrow, whenever I look up there, I will be hunting, and I will be hunted.

The roof is not lit at night, but as soon as my bare feet step on its tiled surface, I see his silhouette, black against all of the light coming from Capitol. There's quite a commotion going on down there. There's music playing loudly, and people singing. Some cars are honking, and there's some yelling. There's a lot of noise that I would be unable to hear if I were to stay in the room with that soundproof window. I could slip away now, without him noticing me. But there's no point, I muse to myself. There's no difference if we talk or not. Or if we talk here tonight, and not tomorrow. Plus I'd rather stay here with this sweet, heavenly air than in that stuffy cage they call a room.

My feet move soundlessly across the tiles. I'm standing right behind him when I say "It's late. You should be getting some sleep, bastard"

I can see him jump a little, but he doesn't turn around. He shakes his head a little, and I wonder if it's directed at me or not.

"I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all" he says and pats a rail next to himself. He invites me to join him. I don't really feel like being so close to him, but come up beside him anyway. I lean over the edge of the rail. The wide streets are filled with dancing people. I squint my eyes in order to see their figures in more details "Are they in fucking costumes?"

He gives a little laugh. It surprises me. I though he was done with the whole 'good guy' act "Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here, those just might be their everyday things. Couldn't sleep?" he asks, looking at the sky.

"Couldn't turn my mind off" I answer, closing my eyes. It's soothing here.

"Thinking about your family?"

I bite my lip "No" I say, a bit guilty. I really should be thinking about them now, shouldn't I? "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is seriously pointless and stupid, of course"

He hums in agreement. I can see his face clearly now. He, at least, looks tired. I'm sure that if he gave it a try again, he'd fall asleep instantly. Lucky bastard. My gaze falls on the way he awkwardly holds his bandaged hands, and a pang of guilty hits me "I really am sorry about your hands"

"It doesn't matter, Lovino" he sighs "I've never been a contender in these Games anyways"

"That's no way to be thinking" I say angrily, and blink at my own outburst. I don't know why I'm furious. I shouldn't care whether he feels like fighting or not. But for some reason, I do. A little.

"Why not? You know it's true. My best hope is not to disgrace myself too much, and…" he stops mid-sentence and glances at his hands.

"And what?" I urge him to go on.

"I don't know how to say it exactly. Only… when we're out there, you know. I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?" I shake my head. Because it really doesn't. Who else does he want to die as? Fucking President Edelstein? "I don't want them to change me there. I don't want them to transform me into some monster that I'm not. I want to die as the me I, myself, know. Not as the me they created"

I bite my lip, feeling inferior. While I was thinking about trees, swamps, ways to get a bow and arrows, finding shelter, killing and surviving, tomato bastard has been struggling with how to maintain his identity. His purity. Himself. In comprassion, it has never crossed my mind. Maybe because I'm not pure at all. Death is something I came across constantly. People starving to death. My father dying. The animals dying from my arrows. I have killed the innocent before, in order to let myself and my family survive. But he hasn't. He's pure. "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?" I ask.

"No, I'm sure that when the time comes, I'll kill just like everyone else. There's no way I'll go down without a fight. I'm just saying that… I mean… I keep on wishing that I could show the Capitol that they don't own me. That they can't control me. That I'm more than just a piece in their Games" he says.

"But you're not. None of us are. That's how the Games work"

"Okay, you might be right, but within the framework, there's still us. There's still you, there's still me. Lovino Vargas and Antonio Fernández Carriedo from District Twelve. Don't you see it?" he insists.

"A little. But… seriously, who cares, bastard?"

"I do. What else am I supposed to care about now anyway, Lovino? What else is there for me to care about at this point?" he asks angrily. He's locked those bright green eyes on mine now, demanding an answer. I take a step back, not liking the tone his voice has taken.

"You could care about what Carlos said. About staying alive"

He smiles at me, but there's nothing friendly about it. It's sad, mocking and twisted, like that of a maniac's. It's not a smile a healthy guy that has been rather well-of for most of his life should have. "Okay. Gracias for the tip, sweetheart"

It's like a slap in the face. His use of drinking bastard's patronizing nickname for me. It makes my blood boil. I straighten up and glare at him as best as I can.

"Listen bastard, if you want to spend the last hours of your life thinking up some sort of noble death, that's your fucking problem. I'm not going to try to stop you from being an idiot, that's your choice. I want to spend the rest of my life in District Twelve" I say, and it comes out louder than I originally planned.

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do" he says flatly. I don't know if he's mocking me anymore or not, but I only feel more fury rise inside me. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?"

"Will do" I spat, glaring at him some more. The silence is heavy, tense, unbearable. I click my tongue and turn around to leave. If I were to stay there even a few seconds more, I would definitely kill him, or at least hurt him really bad. As I reach the door, I hear his voice. I try to make out some words, but the wind is too strong. Deciding that it's something unworthy of my attention, and also something that would probably make my blood boil even more, I leave the roof. I spend the rest of the night slipping in and out of doze, imagining the cutting remarks I will make to Antonio Fernández Carriedo tomorrow morning. Antonio Fernández Carriedo. We will see how high and might that bastard is when he's faced with a life and death situation. I bet he's going to become a fucking lunatic. He'll probably become one of these raging beast tributes that kill everyone as soon as they see them, and then eat their insides. Especially the heart. I can just imagine that son of a bitch killing one of the tributes and eating their heart slowly, imagining that it's a fucking tomato bread or something. Just like Chui Sai.

Chui Sai was a tribute from District Six a few years back. He was a pretty decent, kind looking guy with glasses. He never spoke much, but smiled a lot whenever the cameras were focused on him. He gave off the air of calmness, friendliness, maturity and normalness. But then the Games started. He went completely savage. As soon as he killed his opponent, he'd approach them with devil's speed and rip their torso apart, slowly devouring their insides. He always left hearts for the last, slowly slurping blood from them. Then he'd take a bite, and even more blood would flow from the corners of his mouth. It was the most terrible thing I've ever seen. The Gamemakers had to have him stunned with an electric guns to collect the bodies of the killed Tributes he'd killed before he could eat them. There are no rules in the arena, but cannibalism isn't something that sits well with the amazing audience of Capitol, so they tried to head it off. There was some speculation that the avalanche, which finally took Chui Sai's life, was especially created by the Gamemakers to ensure the victor wasn't a lunatic.

I don't see tomato bastard in the morning. Kiku comes to me before dawn, gives me a simple white shirt and comfortable black pants, and guides me to the roof. My final dressing and preparations will be alone in the catacombs under the arena itself. The thought makes my stomach twist unpleasantly. A hovercraft appears out of thin air, just like the one in the woods, back when the pretty Avox girl was captured. A ladder drops down, a sign for me to hurry up and climb. I place my hands and feet on the lower rungs, and suddenly it's like I'm frozen. Some sort of current glues me to the ladder while I'm lifted safely inside. They've probably done it to prevent Tributes from jumping off and trying to get themselves killed. I haven't heard of such incident ever happening, but maybe someone tried a similar trick.

I expect the ladder to release me, but I'm still glued to the fucking thing when I'm safely inside the hovercraft. Some woman dressed in white approaches me with a syringe in her hand. I look at it suspiciously, trying to move my leg, my arm, anything. Nothing happens.

"This is just your tracker, Lovino. The stiller you are, the more efficiently I can place it" she says in an emotionless voice, raising the bloody thing higher for me to see.

Still? She wants me to stay fucking still? I'm as still as a statue because of their fucking tricks, it's not like I can move. But it doesn't prevent me from feeling the sharp stab of pain as the needle inserts the metal tracking device deeper into my skin on the inside of my forearm. Tracking device. Those poor Gamemakers surely have to do that because they don't want to lose a tribute. These poor fucking bastards.

As soon as the tracker's in place, the ladder releases me, and the suspicious woman in white disappears somewhere. I wait by the entrance as the ladder slowly carries Kiku towards me. When he arrives, he gives me a soft smile, an unspoken 'Are you okay?'. I grimace in an answer, because I'm about as far from being okay as one can get. He's amazing though, I realize yet again, for being able to see right through me. An Avox boy comes in and directs the two of us to room with a big table, on which a lot of plates with various dishes are placed. Despite the tension in my stomach, and a feeling I will throw up any second now, I eat as much as I can. I know the dishes have many flavors, but I don't taste anything, just a lump of something that I have to swallow. For all I care, I could be eating some coal and it wouldn't make any difference, not right now. The only thing that seems to calm me down is the view outside the window. We hover over the city and then the wilderness beyond. That's what birds see. A wide, never-ending world. It must seem so small for them, so stupid. They might look like small, insignificant creatures to us, but we're probably the same for them, as soon as they set up their wings and fly towards the clouds. This view is amazing. But there are two major differences between the me now and the birds. They are free and safe. I am neither.

The ride lasts about half an hour, a terribly long thirty minutes that I spend mostly on imagining awful things and listening to Kiku's stories meant to sooth me, before the windows go black, signaling that we're nearing our destination. The hovercraft lands and the two of us go to the ladder, only this time it leads into a tube underground , into the catacombs that lie beneath the arena. We follow instructions how to get to a chamber for my preparation. In Capitol, they call it Launch Room. But in districts, it's commonly known as the Stockyard. The place where animals go before slaughter.

Everything is brand new. I will be the first and only tribute to use this Launch Room. There are twenty three more scattered somewhere around here, where others are getting prepared. The arenas are historic places, preserved after the Games. They're popular destinations for people from Capitol, who visit them often during their free weeks or vacations. They come here and tour the places where the fighting took place, where the deaths happened. Sometimes there are still trails of blood on the grounds or rocks, and the tourists are said to photograph these the most. All the while they can re-watch the Games and maybe even take part in reenactments. There's a rumour the food's great.

It takes a lot of my will and effort to not throw up. I shower thoroughly and clean my teeth, staring into my reflection in the mirror. The person in front of me is a guy I know, but maybe not necessarily as well as I thought I do. He looks miserable, pissed off and lost. I slap my face with both hands. I can't break down now, I tell myself stubbornly. I'm not that weak.

Kiku does my hair. It's quick and simple, just a light touch of a brush and some adjusting of my haircurl. Somehow the second part feels a little bit awkward, but when I look up at my stylist, I know that I look exactly like when I left home. Which takes some talent, seeing as the curl has a will of its' own and stands up in various places of my head, rarely straight in the middle, and a bit to the right. Then the clothes arrive, the same for every tribute. Kiku has had no say in my outfit, does not even know what's inside the package, but he helps me put it on. They're simple, tawny pants, light green blouse, dark brown belt and a thin, hooded, black jacket that falls to my tights.

"The material's in the jacket designed to reflect body heat, Lovino-kun. Except some cold nights" Kiku says, running a hand down the jacket's sleeve. I put on skintight black socks, and pull on soft, leather boots, much better than the ones I have at home. They have a narrow, flexible rubber sole with threads, which means they're good for running.

I think I'm finished and open my mouth, only to be hushed by Kiku's cool finger against my lips. He puts one hand in his pocket and pulls out something golden. A mockingjay pin. My eyes widen as I stare at a small object in his hands. I have completely forgotten about it.

"Where did you get that?" I ask after he's removed his finger, staring at the pin.

"Off the outfit you wore on the train, Lovino-kun" he says calmly. I remember now. I took it off from my father's suit and pinned it to the shirt. "It's your district token, isn't it?" I nod, standing still as he fastens it on my outfit. How could I have forgotten about the last thing I've received from Matthew? "I barely got them to accept it. Some Gamemakers thought that the pin might be used as a weapon and give you an unfair advantage, however they finally decided to let you wear it. Though they took away the pedant that one of the tributes from District One had. If you twisted it, a hidden spike popped out. Poisoned one. He claimed he had no idea that it could do something like that, saying that he got it from his mother as a farewell gift. No one could prove him otherwise, so he wasn't punished. But he lost his token" I listen to him. Seriously, who the hell is intelligent enough to bring a poisoned pedant into the Games? Dying from that would be fucking lame, it's a good thing they confiscated it. I snap back from my thoughts as Kiku slaps my arm lightly "There, all set. Move around and make sure you're comfortable, Lovino-kun"

I do as he tells me. Walk, squat down, run in circles, swing my arms about, sit down, jump, pretend to shoot an arrow. I feel my muscles tense at a familiar position, but the clothing doesn't make it uncomfortable at all "It's fine" I say curtly.

"Then everything that we can do right now is wait for the call. Unless you think you could eat something?" he asks, but his tone isn't questioning at all. Just by looking at my face he can tell I'd throw up if he made me eat anything more. Stupid pokerfaced bastard, being able to read me so well.

"I could use a glass of water though" I say and he nods. He walks to a stand with a bottled water and pours some into a glass. I accept it gratefully and sit on a coach. I take tiny sips, as we wait in a painful silence. His hand is on top of mine, squeezing it lightly in a calming gesture. I'm grateful for that, too, but it doesn't calm me nearly as much as I'd like. If I don't do something soon, I'll go crazy. I avoid digging nails into my palm or biting my lower lip, instead biting the inside of my cheek. The little injury from a few days ago still hasn't healed yet, and, as I bite harder, a metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

Nervousness seeps into terror as I anticipate what is to come. I could be dead, flat out dead, in an hour. Maybe even less. I can go out there and be murdered on the start, pierced by a knife or strangled to death. I free my hand from under Kiku's, and trace my fingers along the hard, little lump on my forearm, where the tracking device is placed. I press on it. And I press on it again. It hurts, but pain seems to be the only thing that still kept me sane. I press it harder, which results in a small bruise slowly starts forming.

"Would you like to talk, Lovino-kun?" Kiku asks quietly. I shake my head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. He takes my hand into both of his, and encloses it. I stare at him and our hands. He gives me a reassuring squeeze yet again. And this is how we sit until a pleasant, female voice announces it's time for launch.

Still clenching one of Kiku's hands, I walk over and stand on a circular metal plate, the one that will take me up, to the arena.

"Remember what Carlos-san said. Run, find water. Everyone else will follow" he says. I nod, staring into his eyes "Also, please remember one thing. I am not allowed to vote, but if I could, I would place all my money on you, Lovino-kun"

"Truly?" I whisper. God, I feel so pathetic. I'm about to go to a place where I'll be fighting to death, and yet I feel like crying like a little girl, whose parents were murdered.

"Truly" Kiku says. Then he does something I'm not expecting. He tiptoes, since I'm a bit taller than him, and kisses me on my forehead. His lips feel hot and soft against my skin, so cold from fright "Good luck, boy on fire" And then a glass cylinder is lowering around me, breaking our handhold, cutting him off from me. I'm alone from now on, I realize with a feeling of dread. Completely, utterly alone. Kiku taps his fingers on the glass to get my attention. Then he does the same thing to his chin. Head high. I lift my chin and stand as straight as I can. Kiku gives me a last, reassuring smile. The cylinder begins to rise. For maybe about fifteen minutes I'm in a complete darkness, and then I can feel the metal plate pushing me out of the cylinder and out into the fresh air. The sudden brightness of the sun blinds me for a split of second, and the only thing I'm aware of is a strong wind and a hopeful smell of pine trees.

And then I hear the legendary voice of the legendary announcer, Neelam Ansami, as his voice booms all around me and pierces my eardrums with a fucking frightening loudness.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

Zhou Chui Sai (Macau) as Titus

Neelam Ansami (India) as Claudius Templesmith

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^. It finally starts, eh? Woah, I'm kind of really excited about it, hehe! Also, I'm sorry for all Macau fans for making him a lunatic. I actually really like him (and am really sad that so little people seem to remember about his existence!). I decided to choose him, because the original character (Titus) was, supposedly, based off of one of Shakespeare's plays titled 'Titus Andronicus', where the titular character goes berserk after the rape of his daughter, Lavinia, which also happens to be the name of an Avox girl. What I'm trying to say is that it kinda seemed that Titus and Avox Girl could have been related or knew each other in some way. Which is also why I decided to make Macau, who is in my headcanons on really good terms with both Thailand and Vietnam, some sort of best friend or cousin. I'm sorry if my thinking is weird OTL. The same thing with India, I chose him because I adore his character and am not pleased with how little of him there is. So even if it's a small part, I wanted him to play it. Both India's and Macau's names originate from a mix of their respective governments, be it from these days or from the past (it's a super mix!).

Also, I actually finished writing the chapter about two weeks ago, but I was too lazy to make minor changes and so I did it only today. I apologize OTL.

Pluus I've developed the biggest crush and obsession on a minor Kuroko no Basuke character, Kasamatsu Yukio. I think that after the exams, I will make him a shrine in my room or something.

For all the messages which I haven't replied to, I'm sorry, I will definitely reply to them right after my exams! Sorry for being such a goddamn slowpoke, ugh.

Also, my dearest Senpai asked me a few questions and demanded answers in the fic, not in private (deciding that it will interest all of you, which I doubt, but whatever), so there you go, dear:

XXX

Q: Why isn't Lovino acting like an erotic hoe when his curl's pulled?

A: That's because that would be too huge of a weakness for him. If other tributes discovered that, he'd surely be killed off easily, that's why.

Q: Why the hell are you making this Prumano XD?

A: I'm nooot XD! I mean, I sweaaar that it will be Spamano in the end, okay? I swear at chocolate! I just wanna show their… bond. Yes. And it's not like I was pro-Gale in the books sometimes, no. Lies. *cough*

Q: Is Tonio gonna go rampage with Maria?

A: Maybe~ :3

Q: Is NiChu, like, married?

A: I wouldn't say they're married, but there's definitely something between them!

Q: Why the HELL is Toris Delly?

A: I'm not sorry xD. It just turned out like this. Really. On a whim. They were kinda similar in my head, character-wise.

XXX

Thanks for reading and I hope you'll enjoy April a lot :3! Love you! Till the next time ;)!