District Three

Canon Tadashi (14) D3M

There was a lot of bustle in that particular household, the residents of which lived in a humble wooden cottage of sorts. The cottage wasn't anything extravagant or big but it was still pretty comfortable for the family members. One particular boy of fourteen couldn't keep himself steady at all, and his family members were tired of trying of to restrain him.

"It's just a worm Canon!" Mrs Kimiko said in annoyance as her son dived over the wooden chair with his camera.

"Mum! This isn't any common warm. It's blue!"

"Well that's why you should let me kill it. It's blue! Has a blue worm ever been seen in District Three?"

"Mum, they are rare. And that's why I need a photo!"

Kimiko sighed as she watched her son, one among her triplets, corner the repulsive blue creature against the wooden wall. The short, chubby boy smiled, his slanted black eyes twinkling. He raised the camera, a very old version, one that possibly deserved a place in the Nation Capitol Museum, and then said, "Say cheese!"

The blue worm, surprisingly, seemed to look up at young Canon as if stunned, and the young boy took a snap. The flash of the camera looked like thunder to the poor worm, if it could see, Canon had no idea, and it looked as confused as Canon himself did during a Mathematics paper. The boy's mouth turned downwards and he stepped back. Kimiko raised her brows at that, and finally, with a homemade dustpan, hit the blue creature hard. Its short life ended in a second for which it should be grateful. Or so both the mother and the son thought anyway.

"The picture came out pretty… pretty," Canon said happily, "I'm quite pleased with it. I think I'll send this to District Seven for the picture gallery!"

Usually, inter-district travel and sending messages or photos wasn't allowed. However, in order to promote more understanding between the districts and the Capitol, President Leonato had introduced the magazine To the Districts We Go! that was edited in District Seven. Citizens from all the Districts sent their articles and pictures to the Editor, and the magazine was printed every two months. It was a hit in the Capitol and everyone was a fan of it. Canon had sent tens of pictures to the magazine, and they usually got published. This gave the young urchin a right to boast of his impeccable photography abilities among his friends, which were plenty. His family was pretty proud of him, as every edition of the magazine had a picture he had taken.

"Canon, I don't think anyone will be interested in a blue worm."

"The Capitolites are weird mum, they're interested in weird things."

This one argument had enough validity in it to beat all other arguments, and so the mother decided that it would be wise to drop the subject. After all, it didn't matter to her too much. Ultimately, she reminded herself, that she was only concerned with Canon's happiness.

Although she had to agree that it wasn't a big feat in itself as the young lad, with his ever-smiling face, was usually happy. Kimiko considered herself to be extremely lucky in the department of children, for the triplets were the best kind she could hope for. Canon especially was a friend to all, the poor and the rich, the wise and the dumb, Canon was liked by all. He was a little, adorable squirt, the kind that is pretty rare in a place like this cursed nation, and hence her boys attracted all sorts of positive attention. The young boy, with his elfish grin and his floppy black hair could charm anyone who had the heart of a human. Sometimes, it had the impossible capacity to charm the stone-hearted as well, and that was what set Canon apart from everyone else. An incredibly average boy, he had one skill that Kimiko wished the world had, for it needed it, and the gift was of finding happiness in everything life threw at him. Canon enjoyed his work, he enjoyed his studies, he enjoyed his play time, and he enjoyed his pass time. There was not one moment in the day when Canon was gloomy, pondering over the evils of the world, and for that Kimiko was thankful.

Currently, however, Kimiko's son had settled himself quietly on the three-legged wooden stool, moving his slightly chubby legs back and forth, the rapidity increasing with the completion of each round. When Kimiko thought she'd have to ask him to halt, only because it was on the verge of giving her a vertigo, the boy came to a sudden halt and looked up at his mother fondly, his face beaming with glee and his eyes twinkling.

"Mum, I'll go and show this to Sony and Fuji. They'll be bewildered like you!"

"Oh dear, the two boys were here just a few minutes ago. Where have they run off to now?"

"I'll find them! They're always at the same place."

"And you are always with them too. Hence I'm a little surprised they left you alone to capture the beautiful picture of the exotic blue worm that will delight the eyes of thousands of readers."

"Nah. They leave me alone sometimes, when they know I'm doing something extremely important."

Usually, for children in the districts of Panem, 'extremely important' often meant trying to earn a living, trying not to starve, trying to get some work done, or trying to perform in an outstanding manner at school, the last being the most uncommon. However, for young Canon, the two words meant more than what the mundane mind could comprehend. It was photographing what was exotic, talking about superheroes who were charismatic, and befriending people whether they were carefree or pedantic. In a sense, Canon was almost untouched by the atrocities in life and the wide world in general, although the young boy had no idea exactly how wide the world was.

However, being concerned for that was unnecessary and bothersome, and so young Canon walked past his doting mother in search of his ever-friendly, ever-loving and ever-caring brothers.

Mickayla Kennedy (15) D3F

The short girl had a lot on her mind, and a lot to think on as well, but the wise always knows not to ponder on memories that hurt. But the truth is that the wise are the ones who think about their life the most, and the young girl was nothing different. No, currently she wasn't in a position that demanded more from her than what her capacity was, but she still recalled, as fearfully as the days it happened, the horrors she had faced. Of course, what she went through was something that every other child went through in Panem, but that did not mean that the pain was any less.

Alcoholic fathers, abusive relations, step mothers. Wasn't that the problem of the whole wide world, especially that small area known as Panem? But why did it specifically bothered Mickayla, a girl who had the most impressive record of not hurting a soul in the fifteen years of her short life? Maybe it was that very reason, for a person who gives deserves a return, but for young Mickayla hardship was all her life returned for her lovely demeanour.

She was never asked whether she would like to stay with her father or her mother after their divorce, but some intelligent person decided that an alcoholic father would be better for her than a caring mother. Personally, she would have not agreed with the plan, but she was young and insignificant at the time, a mere inconvenient possession. Hence, she began a wonderful life with her alcoholic father, who just happened to have a really beautiful second wife.

Wife number 2 wasn't really as bad as little Mickayla had anticipated. She bossed everyone around, sure, but she wasn't a person who was mean for no particular reason. She just wanted everything under control, and she was successful at it. Her own daughter, Mina, was much more matured than Mickayla herself could be. Of course, as a loving girl she took care of her step sister, but in her heart of hearts, she viewed that matured Mina as little better than an annoyance and little worse than an inconvenience.

That might paint a bad picture of Mickayla, but one should understand that the girl was herself younger than ten. Her whole world, something young stupid children take for granted, had been destroyed. She rarely got to see her own caring mother, her father neglected her to the point she felt she was invisible, and her step mother and her perfect daughter bossed everyone around. Why would anyone be unhappy?

And then, one day dawned that turned out to be a nightmare in particular. Mickayla was unsure as to what promoted it; the alcohol, the Wife number 2, or herself? After all, wasn't she the root cause of all the problems of the household? Wasn't she the one because of whom her father had turned to alcohol in the first place? She had no evidence of the latter, but her father had said, in a very candid way, that it was her fault. How, he did not explain. That wasn't much of a surprise, as learned men often withheld important details when accusing others.

Whatever the reason it happened, Mr Drew Truss raged that day. He did not hesitate in beating up Wife number 2, who was, as he himself said, the dearest to him other than his younger daughter Mina, who ironically wasn't spared either. Mickayla had to bear the brunt of his fury to the maximum, and the eleven-year-old barely managed to survive that inhuman assault.

One thing her step mother always stood by was to never fall to anyone. Hence, there was no chance or scope for dialogue after this incident. She packed the bags, dropped Mickayla at her own mother's house, and then left with Mina to live by herself.

Ultimately, the day that was full of unspeakable horrors turned out to be a point of turning for the young girl, for now she could legally stay with her ever loving mother.

But now, four years after the incident, Mickayla still wasn't sure what provoked her father to that extent then. It must have been something that she had done. She might have annoyed him. If she could see someone as matured as Mina as an annoyance, others could find her to be irritating too.

"Mick, honey," her mother called out, snapping her out of her stupor, "Can you please go to the market at around eleven, dear? I've to go to work early today."

"Sure mum!" Mickayla replied with a smile as she brushed off her dirty brown bangs off her forehead and played with her ponytail, "What all do I need to get?"

"Vegetables, dear. If possible, get some eggs too."

"Vegetables and eggs. Got it mum! Anything else?"

"No Mickayla, I think that'll be enough!"

"Alright!"

With that, the young girl stood up with a broad smile and tried to straight the creases of her bluish green dress that so matched the hues of her beautiful eyes. She'd need to carry her old, battered umbrella with her. No, it wasn't raining, but the heat in District Three was unmatched, and Mickayla was pale, the combination of which often resulted in burnt skin. The young girl certainly didn't want that.

There was still time for her to go, so Mickayla carried her short self to the pretty broken stove. There were two eggs and one carrot left. The need to replenish the kitchen stock was urgent, but for now this would be enough for breakfast. So, she got to boil the eggs, and then started chopping the carrot with the somewhat less crooked knife that she had. She'd have to work quickly because her mother wouldn't like her to concern herself with such arduous tasks. But honestly, Mickayla worked only because she liked to do so. She wanted to help her mother and repay her kindness. A little bit of domestic help wasn't that big an issue or that big a job either.

So, she continued to chop the carrot, humming an old tune as she worked.

District Four

Saunder Kilkenny (18) D4M

There were many things that Saunder Kilkenny couldn't tolerate. But incompetency and biased judgement took the cake.

And unfairness was something he knew too well. He was always at the receiving end of it after all. The school was unfair, the Academy was unfair, his family was unfair, the whole world was unfair. Why, people claimed that his thirteen-year-old sister was more skilled than he was! What nerve! Did they not know they were comparing the future victor with a stupid girl? More skilled ha? Not so much. Not at all.

However, that wasn't the end of it.

Now, the volunteer that they had elected was incredibly skilled, and he could attest that. Fontus Hallows was the definition of perfectness. He was handsome enough to kill with looks, and competent enough to kill with weapons. But then, as fate would have it, poor Fontus Hallows met with an accident, and was confined to bed when the glorious moment was just a few days away.

The news spread in the District spread like a wildfire, or maybe like a Tsunami. Soon, everyone was talking not of his looks or his skills, but of his foolishness that he decided to go boating a few days prior to such a big day. He could swim all he wanted had he returned victorious, and that too in a private pool of his own. Alas, the poor chosen volunteer had not foreseen the catastrophe and soon the trainers at the Academy, intelligent men and women that they were, put their intellectual brains together, to come up with the simplest of solutions. To find a replacement.

Saunder was, his heart knew, more than just excited. He was elated. This was a second chance that he had been given, and a chance to recover what was lost. It was not usual for someone like him to make it to the top spot, after all, people were extremely envious of his outstanding skills and above average intelligence. So when the eighteen-year-olds, almost sixty percent of them, waited anxiously in a line, mentally bribing the trainers into choosing them, the head of the Academy lowered his rough, callused hand into the small glass bowl and pulled out a slip. Every heart seemed to have stopped. The choosing of volunteer appeared to be much more dramatic than the actual Reapings, but if you ask Saunder or any other candidate, they would explain to you exactly why such tremor of excitement was present among the mass of people.

And Saunder straightened himself, his five feet nine figure standing erect, his brown hair spiked up, his grey suit matching his green-grey eyes. A smile played on his pale face, and the not so muscular boy almost started towards the centre, towards the head, when the latter announced:

"I am very pleased to inform you that the chosen volunteer is… Reef Murray!"

And there he stopped in his tracks even as his old rival Reef stepped out like a soldier. Everywhere around him people cheered and screamed and hollered and whistled and clapped, but Saunder was suddenly not a part of the group. He should have been chosen! He hated Reef and he hated his arrogance! Their rivalry was way too old but as strong as ever, at least for the young man. For Reef, there was no question about rivalry to begin with. Such arrogance! And the other trainees?! They liked Saunder! They said they supported him! And now they had the nerve to cheer for Reef?!

Wasn't that unfair?

And now the young man stood in front of the line full of eighteen-year-olds. The idiots were talking among themselves about things that were irrelevant to the Reapings, irrelevant to the Games, and irrelevant to him. But despite everything, Saunder acknowledged that he was powerless to block out their unwise words and cringe worthy conversations. Even if he moved to the back of the line, these foolish boys would still be talking. That's why they were boys and he was a man. These days people just didn't understand the difference between them, and manhood was reduced to trash talking. But Saunder knew and appreciated the difference. He wouldn't talk, he would perform.

Reef was mere two persons away from him. The boys from his line, and the boys from the adjacent line all gushed over his well-built physique, treating him as if he was the superstar of District Four, as if he had distributed hundreds of thousands of dollars among them. And the proud boy blushed and thanked them and reassured them of his own success and, upon request, flexed his muscles.

Saunder snorted at that. No way could such a show off become a victor. Something compelled him to believe this sentiment, and in that moment he knew he would prove his worth. It would be him and not Reef. NOT him! And even fate wanted him to carry on with his plan. Why, he was the first one in his line! There was no competition! The field was clear for him.

But now was not the time for that. The time was for the Reaping of the female tribute for the Ninety First Annual Games, and the realisation itself made the whole Square go silent. Saunder didn't know what all this hype was about. No girl, no person, had a real chance to win against him, or even Reef.

And maybe that was the exact thought that crossed the smart brain of the chosen female tribute.

For when the escort called out for an Emeline Grey, a young beautiful girl of not more than fifteen, nobody called out as a volunteer. Nobody stepped forward to fight to the death-match for this young girl. An unbreakable silence settled on the Square, and every single human present was left gaping at the lack of volunteers.

The camera found her talking aggressively with a boy of seventeen, and just when Saunder thought that the Peacekeepers would be forced to drag her up to the stage, she herself started walking steadily towards the stage, without a single word, without a frown, her face completely devoid of emotions.

Saunder face-palmed. Well, bringing victory to the District really fell to him.

Emeline Grey (15) D4F

"It's another thing to be Reaped, Fabian, but it's much worse when the most idiotic person in the entirety of the District volunteers."

"I understand Eme. I-I just hate myself for not doing so myself…"

"Fabian, you sure you know me? If you would've come with me, I wouldn't have been able to kill you, and you would be in the same position! Could you carry the brunt of me sacrificing myself for you?"

"I'd never let you do that!"

"Exactly Fabian! And that's the reason I couldn't let you do this either! You're- you're everything to me Fabian! We know and love each other more than ourselves!"

Emeline Grey's cousin, Fabian knelt down in front of her. The soft carpet felt like thorns to his skin. The decoration and grandeur appeared to be the bait for the pig that was to be slaughtered. Neither the beauty of the paintings around them, nor the out of the world comforts appealed to either of them.

Fabian reached out and cupped his cousin's pale cheeks. He took in a deep breath to calm his own nerves. His friend, his cousin, his sister, his family was going. He had been seven- seven- when his parents passed away and he had to go and live with his uncle and aunt. He remembered sitting alone in his dark room, refusing to eat, refusing to sleep, unable to accept his fate.

And then Eme… with her innocence and care, her being herself, Fabian one day left his dark room and onto the beach. The brown sands were warm under his feet. The waves, calm, regular but powerful washed at his feet. In the distance, he saw a mere child of five, two years younger than himself, trying to build something with the sand. It appeared to be like a castle, or that's what he assumed it was, but as was common among young, innocent minds, curiosity won over, and the young boy trotted over to his cousin.

"What're you making?" he asked softly as he knelt down beside her.

Turning her round face towards him, her large blue-grey eyes focused on him, her full mouth was drawn in a straight line. In a cute way, she bit her lower lip and answered.

"I'm making F."

"F?" Fabian asked in astonishment, "But why?!"

"F for Fabian!" Emeline said solemnly before smiling at him. And then, it appeared as if the conversation was over, because Emeline completely forgot about him and focused on making that F with the wet sand.

Since that day the two basically lived for each other.

No, they didn't love each other in that way! In fact, both of them were doubtful whether people would even understand it. It was just love, without parameters, without adding anything to it. People couldn't accept it that it was just love in its purest form!

And now, his Eme was sitting on the comfortable leather sofa, the conditioned air, cooling her, and her tears falling down on her lap. Emeline trained at the Academy, that was true. But was it to be a murderer? Not so much. As far as Fabian was concerned, both he and Eme had trained only to be fit and to utilise their time to be productive.

"Emeline-"

"No Fabian, I'm fine, really. I'm just astounded that nobody volunteered when all those girls were gushing about the Reapings. And then, let's say they were afraid that Reef may win, it wasn't him but that foolish Saunder Kilkenny who volunteered. Kilkenny of all people?! Kilkenny?!"

Fabian laughed weakly at her disbelief. The truth, however, was not lost on either of them. Kilkenny was nowhere near as qualified as Reef. His little sister Anya, who was of a tender age of thirteen, outperformed him with every single weapon present in the Academy. However, it was this overconfidence, lack of skill, strength and personality that Eme could use to her advantage, as Fabian voiced out.

"Play him around," Fabian said, grabbing Emeline's shoulders firmly. She looked up at him serenely. The cause of this peace was the impending doom, and while mortals were anything but calm during such a time, looking at her cousin Emeline knew that she could not give up. Come what may, she had to survive. Her eyes met her cousin's, and the next moment they were wrapped into each other's embrace. Fabian rubbed her back comfortingly, muttering assurances in her ear, trying to encourage her.

"Fabian," she whispered softly, with a quiet strength that her cousin detected too well, "You have no reason to worry. I will be back. Do you get me? I will return."

Fabian nodded against her shoulder as he held her tightly. It was an improvement if she thought she could actually achieve it, and maybe she would manage. No… Fabian had to believe in her. He had to. After his parents, he couldn't lose her… he couldn't!

"Remember Eme," he said, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face. Eme blinked, looking at the most beautiful person in her life, trying to memorise his face, his embrace, his voice.

"You have trained. You are better than that Kilkenny. You're good at swimming, you are skilled at combating with dual knives, and you are young. That's the biggest asset you have."

"My age? How so?"

"You're a Career, Eme, and you're young. Somehow, get a solid score, which I'm sure you will, and in the interviews just play the delightful little girl. Okay?"

"I trust you Fabian. I'll do as you say."

And she would. For Fabian, for her parents and for herself. She would return victorious at any cost.

I wasn't well while writing this so I know this isn't really well written. I'm sorry for that. Anyway, what do you think of all these tributes? I don't think I wrote them well this chapter, and I'll try to fix that in the future. Let me know your thoughts.

Have a good day!