Happy Reaping Day!

Rada Susanna Krupin, 16

District 9, eleven months before the Reapings

The amber fields of District 9 stretched for miles and miles, gently touching the cloudless cerulean sky, but Rada Susanna Krupin's attention was not directed at the picturesque scenery.

She was currently kneeling in the middle of an endless field of grain, with a book open on her lap. The grain was tall, stretching far up past the top of her head. Each individual stock yielded to the breeze, gently rustling in a low whisper, brushing against Rada's face as if it was trying to command her attention.

Rada paid the grain no mind. Here on the ground, no one could see her. She was obscured from view easily, and no one would be able to see that she wasn't working. Working in the fields of District 9 was incredibly demanding work since the grain outnumbered the population by an incalculable amount. There was a certain quota to met in the fields and the factories, but Rada was more concerned with her book than she was with the grain output to the Capitol. It wasn't like her family was getting a share of all that grain anyway.

The book that lay open before her was not something that was easy to get. District 9's population was incredibly sparse, and any sort of intensive schooling or more "luxurious" items were few and far between. Rada considered herself very fortunate to be able to read a book of medical terminology.

This particular volume focused on diseases and ailments of the body. As doctors weren't easy to come by, if you could even afford them, so sickness was often left to home treatments and hope. As far she had read though, there didn't seem to be any hope for her mother.

The matriarch of the Krupin family had fallen ill 3 years prior with an intense sickness that no one was able to identify. They couldn't afford a doctor and the ailment seemed to only get worse with time. Her mother was bedridden before long and just like that, they lost a working family member.

Rada had already started working in the fields pretty much full time by that point. It was far preferable to the dingy and even dangerous granaries and factories. She had always loved the fields, and while the work was hard and demanding, it was still better than nothing.

At that point, school wasn't much of a concern. Rada needed to support her family, and school was less important than that. She valued her family above all else, and would do everything in her power to help them through this convoluted and confusing world. Luckily, Rada was still able to school herself and her two younger siblings a little bit thanks to her own twin sister, Ayra.

Ayra was identical to Rada physically, but certainly not mentally. She was driven and focused, sometimes finding time to teach her brother and sisters as much as she could. The only reason this was possible was because of fortune smiling upon the Krupin family. Rada's father and Ayra had been able to get jobs working for the Mayor of District 9. Her father was a devoted assistant and Ayra worked tirelessly as an intern. Due to their connections there, Ayra was able to get some books now and then to bring back to her sibling.

The extra pay from this situation helped, but it wasn't enough. Rada and her younger brother Milo worked in the fields everyday to keep their family afloat. She resented the Mayor for not paying her family as much as they deserved for the work they did, especially considering the massive daily commute.

District 9 had a sort of horse and buggy system, but it had to be paid for, and money was something of an issue for many of the citizens. Consequently, most of District 9 walked from place to place or rode a bike if they were lucky enough to have one. The extra pay from her and Milo's work in the fields was more than enough to pay for the coach service, but the commute was still long. Rada didn't see as much of her father and twin sister as she would have liked. Her family was so damn important to her, but she recognized the importance of money and how it was needed to keep them healthy and alive. At least, most of them.

Slacking off on the job was something that Rada knew wasn't the best. She absolutely hated lying, but there was not a better time for her to peruse yet another medical book in search of some way to save her mother.

Rada flipped to another page, which was just another long list of ailments and the symptoms associated with them. She took a deep breath of the clean afternoon air, letting the breeze and amber figures brush against her. A few moments. Another few moments, and then Rada let her lungs expand and allowed her breath to return to the air around her.

There were so many terms, so many symptoms that overlapped. She had been looking for the right disease for what seemed like forever. Rada felt like she was studying and studying and studying for a test that she would never know the answers to.

No matter how hard she worked, how hard she tried, it didn't seem to be enough. And yet, she kept moving forward. Rada would never give up on her mother, no matter how sickly she looked, no matter how frail her bones were, no matter how sunken her eyes were. She would never forgive herself if she didn't give everything she had, and she would always try to have hope.

"Slacking off again?"

Rada jerked her head up towards the noise, flinching back into the grabby hands of the grain. The cutting of silence was something she was never prepared for her, and her brother just loved to cut it.

"Milo, how many times I have told you to not sneak up on me like that?" Rada scolded, but with a smirk on her face.

Her brother of 14 years emerged from the walls of grain, seemingly materializing out of nothing. It was far taller than him, which always made Rada smile. Seeing her little brother make his way through the amber forest brought her some levity.

"Probably more times than there are wheat in this field," he scoffed.

"Oh it couldn't have been that many," Rada replied, climbing to her feet. "No way."

"Yes way," Milo sighed. Rada didn't like seeing him like this. Her brother was a sweet kid, but he absolutely hated working in the fields. He was still young, and probably just wanted to have friends his age, but was confined to the fields every day.

"I know you hate it here, but it's gotta be better than the factories right?"

Milo looked down at his feet, breathing sharply. "That's what you always say, but it doesn't make it any better. I just don't understand why we can't all just work for the Mayor."

It was hard to regale her brother with reassurance about the job situation, but he was never convinced. Rada was never able to convince herself either, but it couldn't be helped. She wasn't jealous of her sister for the comfy job she had. Ayra worked all day just like she and Milo did, it was just a little different. Plus, Rada was thankful they didn't have as bad of a commute to home from the field.

"I don't really know either, but we have to make the best of what we got." Rada shuffled over and embraced her brother in a tight hug. He resisted for a moment before his body relaxed in her arms. "Family is all we have, and we gotta stick together no matter what."

Milo nodded, but his eyes didn't meet hers. She could tell he wasn't fully convinced, but she figured he was just grumpy right now. After all, he hated the field.

The grain waved around the siblings, as if it was a flurry of amber snow spiraling around them, before they finally let go.

"It's almost collection time, we should probably head back," she said.

Milo nodded. "We don't wanna miss the buggy, I really don't want to walk home like last time."

"We won't," Rada promised. "Let's get moving."

She retrieved her book from the ground and followed Milo into the grain. The fields were massive, but they had been here enough to have a really good sense of direction, Milo especially. Before long, they reached one of the paths that wove its wave through the field. A wheelbarrow of seeds and some harvested grain awaited.

"Long way back," Milo sighed.

Rada nodded. "Always is."

She took charged of the wheelbarrow and handed her book off to Milo, who hid it in his overalls. The trek back was long, especially in the late afternoon sun, but clouds were starting to darken. The hot beams of radiant light gradually were snuffed out by the accumulation of weaving grey darkness that was brewing a powerful downpour, just for them.

"That looks pretty bad," Milo said, looking at the sky.

Rada followed his gaze and mused, "Yeah, but I don't think we're in for twister weather. Probably a lot of rain."

Nevertheless, the siblings quickened their pace. Years of doing this same trek had made their legs rather strong, and they had no problem trading their days work for the proportional wages at the main collection of granaries for this specific field. It connected to the main dirt road that spread out around District 9, the road that the buggies would be traveling on.

The clouds had only gotten darker, and Rada cocked her head to the side at the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Let's pick up the pace." She and Milo made a beeline for what was the last buggy hanging out by the road. The driver hurriedly helped them into the back and took off quickly, taking a good portion of the wages they had just earned. The cost to commute was not to be underestimated.

Rada held Milo's hand as the two held on to the buggy that seemed to just be a barely functioning mash of splintered wood. The wheels wobbled as violently as the thunder crackled with more intensity, and Rada already missed the soft touch of the amber field.

The bumpiness didn't let up for the rest of their journey. Neither of them spoke a word, just silently hoping to get home soon. Rada just hoped her mother was ok. Every day it seemed like she could get worse, and a sudden drastic shift in health could happen at any moment. She hated the thought that popped into her head, that her mother was like this buggy, barely hanging on, damaged beyond repair, likely on its way out. Rada tried to shake it off, thinking of the blue skies and golden fields instead of the downpour that they were about to be caught in.

It was thanks to the horse's hard work that Rada and Milo made it to their destination just as the rain drenched them. It was still a ways to their home from the main road, so they took a run for it. The ground was already getting muddy from the heavenly smite above them. Her shoes were slick in the mud, but she managed to keep her balance.

For whatever reason, the droplets of water hit extra hard today. They stung her face and her skin as she ran. Once again, she found herself missing the soft touch of the wheat against her face. Such was late summer in District 9.

Finally, Rada and Milo reached the end of the muddy path and skidded to a halt in front of their home. It wasn't much, but it was enough, Rada thought. She wasted no time flying through the front door. The mud was already getting on the floor, but right now she was concerned with-

"The roof!" Milo yelled, pointing. Sure enough, their roof had failed them yet again, letting a violent stream of water leak down into their house. It was already pooling on the small kitchen table, and then dripping down on the floor. Wet wood was not good.

She dashed quickly into the kitchen, snagging an old rusty bucket from a cupboard. Almost tripping as she ran, Rada scurried over to the table and slammed the bucket down, just under the stream of water. The bucket was pretty heavy, so it looked it would hold for a little while before it needed to be emptied.

"Ok, that should do it for now," Rada sighed. Just then, a crash of thunder shook the foundation of house and violent light flashed from outside their window. With the rain assaulting the roof too, the sound was deafening. But, it was not able to deafen her family.

The door to the main bedroom slammed open and Kasha, Rada's 11-year-old sister, rushed out with her eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do, I wanted to say with Mom and- "

The girl could barely get out a string of words through her hyperventilation. Rada hugged her sister in an effort to calm her down. "It's alright, you stayed with Mom. That's the most important thing."

And to Rada, that really was the most important thing. While the rain would slightly damage their house, as long as her family was intact, that was all that mattered to her.

She released her sister from the hug and asked "How is she?"

"She fell asleep earlier. She's been sleeping through this whole storm."

Kasha's answer worried her. Yes her mother slept a lot, but sleeping through something as loud as this was concerning.

Rada strode into the room where her mom spent all her time. There was only so much they could do for her. The master bed was outfitted in lots of pillows and blankets that Rada and her siblings had sacrificed to make her mother more comfortable. It was hard to see her mother like this, the emaciated woman that was enveloped in blankets and pillows. She looked even worse than the previous day.

After reading her bedside, Rada grabbed her mother's hand. It was so frail that she felt like she could feel the individual bones in her hand. Her hand was cold, but there was a shred of warmth still there. Rada checked her pulse and found that, thank Panem, it was still beating.

She gave her mother's hand a squeeze. It was so frustrating, just sitting here, not able to do anything to save her mother from this fate. Rada felt so helpless, watching her mother waste away. All she wanted was to be able to do something more.

The storm continued to rage outside, and the wind howled in her ears, battering her senses. Rada just wanted to have hope in this moment. So badly. Just a tiny bit would be more than enough.

It was this moment where she decided to paint. In the middle of storm, there were probably better things to do, but Rada felt like now was the time. She loved to paint, but didn't get to do so often. She was able to get some new paints every year for her birthday, but that was about it. The walls of her parent's bedroom had some of her art hanging up. It was all colorful landscapes and horizons, beautiful gradients of gold, orange, and bronze meeting an azure sky that was speckled with the pink of a sunset.

Rada found hope in her small paintings, and that was what she tried to do in this moment. She gathered her paints and a sheet of canvas from a drawer and sat on the floor to paint. For a moment, her thoughts drifted to the storm, the blackened skies, the brilliant flashes, the swirling vortexes. Perhaps she should paint what she saw in this moment…

No. No she shouldn't. Rada thought back to earlier in the field, how the breeze and wheat felt against her, how the sky and field were locked in an endless embrace. That was what she needed. That was what her family needed. Even in the midst of a terrible storm, Rada Susanna Krupin believed that it was a matter of perspective, and that one could find a ray of hope in the crushing darkness if they looked for it.

Arys Schmitt, 17

District 9, five months before the Reapings

As his hand drifted across the rough canvas, spreading out black beads of paint as if he had spilled a river of ink, all Arys Schmitt could think about was how cruel and unforgiving the world could be.

Late winter in District 9 was the harbinger of icy, unforgiving weather. The wind was screaming from outside his bedroom window, shaking the glass panes threateningly. The outside was completely black. Not a shred of light was able to cut its way through the tar-like blanket of the black void. Only small speckles of snow and ice gave the vaguest hint that the Schmitt Manor did not exist in its own plane of existence, separated from the rest of the universe.

This may have not been the case, but Arys didn't see how the reality made much difference. In his mind, he really was cut off from the rest of world, isolated and left in the darkness. It was painful, but he often found himself thinking he deserved to dissolve into the lightless void.

The moment Arys was born into the world, it was as if a curse had been released to ravage and destroy the Schmitt family. He didn't remember his mother at all. She was a blank spot in his mind, nothing but the darkness that he currently found himself in. Shortly after he was born, his mother killed herself. According to his nanny, she had grown extremely depressed after the birth and was not given the attention and help she needed. His nanny told him that her death wasn't on his fault, but that didn't change the phantom feeling of sticky, black blood on his hands.

He should have been welcomed into the family as the heir to the Schmitt name, poised to become the Mayor like his father. However, he was not welcomed with open arms; he was kept at an arms-length. His grandparents blamed him for his mother's death, and cut all ties with him, going out of their way to never see him. They acted like he didn't exist. Even when he would manage to get a glimpse of them, they wouldn't look his way. Arys thought back to when he was a child, trying to get them to notice him, only to be left alone in a large empty house.

Arys was thankful to the family's nanny for doing her best to raise him, since his father certainly couldn't be bothered to do so. Maxen Schmitt was a cruel and prejudiced man, believing that the lower classes of District 9 were nothing more than machines in an industrial cog. Their flesh was metal, their blood was oil, and their veins were circuitry. Mayor Schmitt believed that his family and the very few upper-class citizens of District 9 were a more powerful species than the rest. Wealth and power had been kept in their family for generations. They remained loyal to the Capitol and were happy to comply with their demands as they as they were swimming in gold.

Maxen didn't bother to teach his son much, or even raise him. He allowed the nanny to do it, despite treating her like garbage and underpaying her for years and years. Arys didn't like how his father treated her, and after going to school with some of the other kids from the lower-classes, he began to see how mistaken and flawed his father was in his beliefs. He didn't know this himself, but despite how hard he tried to fight against his father's ideals, there were still parts of him that inherently believed he was better than the commoners.

It was easy for him to live in his own little world, in complete and total isolation. He knew that people would kill to have the life he lived, but he still felt so very depressed with his circumstances. Arys just wanted a way out from his gilded prison. He felt aimless, wandering the halls, looking for something that he would never find. A focus on hobbies, like painting and playing the piano, seemed to help him slightly, but it was never enough. In the arts, he gravitated towards abstract sadness, which was reflected on the canvas in front of him.

Another stroke of black paint splattered across the canvas as Arys swiped his hand horizontally, like he was trying desperately to cut the painting in half with his brush. To an outsider, the work looked like a bunch of black lines and dripped paint that had dried against a white backdrop. To Arys, it was far more than that. He saw it as a representation of himself, what he could have been without the life he had been born into. The black tears of paint that slid down the canvas dried against it, permanently frozen and preserved for posterity, an exhibit of perpetual sorrow frozen in time.

Arys sat back in his chair, and breathed in deeply, surveying his finished work. His makeshift studio was always in his room; he liked the privacy. He had personally never seen anyone else's bedroom to know just large his was compared to the small compartments of many of District 9's housing. A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, bathing the room is a soft orange-gold glow. It accentuated the colors of the rest of the furniture, all of which were painted in shades of gold and amber. His bed was an enormous golden tapestry that one could dissolve into, and he had two couches of similar design closer to the center of the room. On the left he had a massive desk that he never used, and on the right stood an impressive piano. There was one downstairs too, but Arys preferred playing in his room.

His eyes flicked to the blackness outside his window as the windows were bombarded with crackling ice, like skeletal hands desperately trying to find their way to the warmth inside. It wasn't even that late in the day yet, but nevertheless, the sun had lost this particular celestial battle.

Since he had finished his painting, Arys decided to put his supplies away for the day. Doing too much of the same thing got boring very quickly. There wasn't much to do in the Schmitt Manor, but you could always walk around its many, many halls. It wasn't much, but it was something.

On his stroll through the golden-hall décor of the halls, Arys almost found himself bump into a girl, a girl he knew of course.

"Apologies Ayra, I didn't see you there," he apologized to the shorter girl with sleek brown hair pulled up in a bun.

"No worries Mr. Schmitt, I should be more careful with where I step. I apologize." Ayra's voice remained level and professional, but the color rising in her face gave away her emotions. This obvious tell would be obvious to most, but not to Arys.

"You can call me Arys, as usual," he responded politely, trying not to let his smile stretch too thin. He hated being called by that title. Being attached to his father in anyway was incredibly frustrating.

"I know, but I have to remain professional. This job-" She paused for a moment. "-is really important to me and my family. You know that."

Arys did know that. The Krupins seemed to be a very close family, always working together to make the most of things. However, it was hard not to feel jealous looking at Ayra and her father work together so closely as the Mayor's personal aids. Each of them were extremely detail-orientated and professional, something that his father valued very much. In Mayor Schmitt's mind, it made them slightly better than the average bloodlines of District 9, but not by much. He tolerated them at best.

"Don't worry, you and your father have always been of great service to this family. You excel at attending our needs and serving us." Arys smiled, thinking of how nice his compliment must have sounded. He was too caught up in how he was so nice for being kind to the help, that he didn't see Ayra's fists clench.

"It's always my pleasure. I have work to attend to before I go home, goodbye Arys."

Her emphasis on his first name made him smile wider. He did not detect the venom that came behind her words. Ayra then disappeared around the corner and left his sight. He stayed still until the sound of her footsteps echoing about the halls could be heard no more.

Interacting with the lower-class citizens always made him happy. Arys thought he was doing great in regards to ending the prejudice in his family by taking the time out of his day to be friendly to them. There was not a single thought in Arys's mind that considered the fact that he might have been rude. His intentions were good after all, and good intentions were more than enough. Surely.

Ayra Krupin. Now that was girl who his father would despise him going out with. Arys always thought she was quite pretty, and appreciated her driven focus and attitude towards work. It was something he didn't understand, but he respected it. Following the Victory Tour stop in District 9, Arys had been thinking a little bit about love. The star-crossed lovers of District 12 were all the rage right now, and Arys used to understand the hype. For a brief moment he believed them, but as time went on, it became clear that they were just using love as a tool to stay alive. Arys had dealt with so much fakeness that he just wished for real love, something concrete. Katniss and Peeta were just a painful reminder that he was betrothed to a girl that he didn't love.

Alina Maridox. A girl who had been set up with him very young. His father was all about keeping the bloodline "pure," and that meant marrying a woman of a similar social standing. Alina was a gorgeous girl with dark skin. Getting her hand in marriage was thought to be quite the achievement. Arys didn't think so. Alina was the sister of his only childhood friend, Boyon. He and Alina had gotten close after they were betrothed, but only as friends. There were never any romantic feelings between them. Besides, Alina was secretly seeing a girl from the factory that the Maridox family had shares of.

He admired Alina for being so brave as to see someone, who was just a factory worker, right under her father's nose. It was small rebellion, but Arys could tell that Alina was happy. The clock was ticking though, and as soon as they aged out of the Reapings, the engagement would officially begin. It was a problem the two of them had been avoiding, but time was growing short. Arys just wanted someone, someone that was the complete opposite of what his father wanted for him. That someone could very well be Ayra Krupin.

The Mayor had told Arys how the Krupins were tainted, how their blood was weak, and how they were an illness. He pointed to Ayra's mother as evidence for that. Arys thought that was a horrible sentiment, and he hoped that by getting close to Ayra, he could course correct their blood and save the Krupins from the life they currently led. It was a noble endeavor in his mind, and he refused to acknowledge any doubts in his mind. Arys was too far in his own isolation to have much self-awareness, and so he slowly tried to flirt with Ayra, thinking he had the best of intentions. Oh how his father would hate them getting together.

Arys blinked at his surroundings suddenly. He didn't realize how long he had been just standing there, lost in his own thoughts. In his mind though, being lost in his thoughts was preferable to being lost in this winding golden maze.

He decided to make his way down the main foyer of the manor, in hopes to catch Ayra before she and her father left. The snowstorm was still raging outside, and Arys thought it was very unlikely that there was a buggy hanging around to take them home.

With all his wandering through the Schmitt Manor as a child, Arys knew all the most effective shortcuts. It took him no time at all to reach the foyer and intercept Ayra and Mr. Krupin. The two were already bundled up in clothes, but it didn't seem to be enough for the storm in the slightest.

"Mr. Krupin, Ayra!" Arys called, almost skidding to a halt. He hoped the excitement wasn't too visible on his face.

"Yes Mr. Schmitt?" He cringed at Mr. Krupin addressing him like that, but he continued with his plan.

"It's rather chilly outside, and I don't think there are going to be any buggies around." Arys produced some coins from his pocket. "Why don't we have the driver take you in the car? I promise its warm, and the seats are rather comfy."

"Mr. Schmitt-" Mr. Krupin opened his mouth to speak.

"Oh it's my pleasure! I'm happy to lend a helping hand to those in need, and especially those who can't help themselves," Arys happily interrupted. He beamed at the stone faces of Mr. Krupin and Ayra. He had read plenty of books, but he sure couldn't read a room.

Before they could say another word, Arys took Mr. Krupin's hand and placed the coins in his palm. "For the driver's tip of course. Now off you go!" Arys steered them towards a door on the far side of the foyer, pointing them out and waving.

His heart jumped when Ayra turned around to look at him. He really did love how stern and serious she was. Even now, she maintained that part of herself despite being so thankful for what he did for her and her father. Arys smiled once more, unbothered by the fact that Ayra didn't return the smile.

When he lost sight of the Krupins, Arys turned on his heal and quickly walked the long way back to his room, to avoid his father. The world was so bleak and unkind, but Arys found comfort in showing kindness to those who were less fortunate than he. He almost envied the Krupins' perspective on life. They were a happy family, all working together out of kindness. Arys wished he had that, more than anything. He thought to himself that he would gladly live in poverty if it meant escaping the isolating maw of the manor. Arys Schmitt was tired of looking out a window coated in gold, and he wanted nothing more than to find a new perspective from which to view the world.

HAPPY REAPING DAY EVERYONE! Of course, it is the 4th of July which means Reaping day. I thought I would hustle to get a chapter out to celebrate and to continue the grind through intros. My current goal is to finish this story by Valentine's Day 2022 so here's hoping I can majorly pick up the pace after intros.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Reviews definitely are so nice to read, especially since I don't really know how many people are actually reading the story.

Here's hoping to another update soon! We hit District 5 next.

Are you #teamRARYS?