WARNING(S): Mentions of death, canon-typical violence and dark themes, underage drinking (for US), heavy trauma

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A/N: I had to research a lot for this because it's been such a long time since I last read the Hunger Games novels. Ugh, it's good. I recommend it if you're looking to get into YA dystopias/rebellions.

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It was difficult to breathe here.

Sakura glanced here and there, a scrawny tribute far from her district, a flute of champagne in her hand. People had long since stopped whispering and looking indiscreetly her way and had instead focused on each other. Well-dressed nobles mingled in a magnificent ballroom, sharp-suited gentlemen and beautiful ladies in dresses of silk and cotton - no doubt the work of her people. Her grip tightened on the flute until her fingers shook.

These hands, well-worn from years of needlework and cutting and pasting and sewing, years of working by lantern and long days taking order after order after order… they trembled even now, threatening to crack the delicate neck of the flute. She took a deep breath and relaxed her grip, turning away. How many of these gowns and suits had come from her family? Her friends? How many had she herself done? The orders all blurred together, even now - it was mind-numbing work, but it was a living. Faintly she recognized some of the intricate patterns and embellishments, but they were mere flashes of memory in a vast sea of bigger things to worry over.

Too many bright flamboyant colors. Too many people. Too much… noise.

Taking another breath, she tried to move towards the fringes of the crowd. Her sharp eyes glanced back and forth, searching for an opening - and as she found one, she began moving towards it.

And then a hand came to rest on her shoulder, making her do a full-body flinch away. She whirled around, raising her champagne flute in warning.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," a teenage boy around her age raised his hands in defense. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Slowly, she lowered the flute. The distrust in her pinched expression remained, even as the boy gestured towards himself, "I'm from District 2. Sasuke Uchiha. Nice to meet you, Haruno."

Ah. She recognized this name. A couple of tributes had muttered to one another during training about some family named Uchiha, the wealthiest family in the district. Supposedly they were the ones bossing around one of the most successful manufacturers - as well as the ones responsible for the impressive weaponry in the last Games.

Her brows furrowed into a deeper frown. What in the world was their son doing here?

"You showed an impressive effort in the Games," he complimented with a half-smile. "But of course, you must have been eager to finally have something else occupying your time rather than boring textiles, right?"

Her blood ran to ice. Faintly, she registered her fingers clenching around the glass again as she muttered a flabbergasted, "S- something… else…?"

"Well, yes, isn't it an honor to play? Better than slaving your life away."

"Slaving… slaving my life… away…?!"

"Are you alright?" He gave her a concerned frown. She could've laughed if she wasn't so angry.

"Can you even grasp the things I went through in that arena?" She hissed under her breath, eyes darting around to gauge if any of the other nobles were listening as the boy took a step away, eyes flying open wide. "The things I saw? The people I had to kill? Can you imagine what it's like to live in constant fear, wondering about who's going to be the next to die? Can you imagine what it's like to fear so much for your own life that you sacrifice your own morals?! And for what? Some- some fleeting glory and meaningless- things?! I would give anything to have never been picked! I can only count myself lucky that my family doesn't have to go hungry anymore now that I've played!"

"Whoa, c- calm down…" Raising his hands again, the boy looked around nervously.

The haze of red across her vision slowly dissipated, and the breath returned to her lungs, as she leaned away - and, taking a deep breath, she muttered under her breath, "I'm sorry."

"Nah, I'm sorry… I didn't expect you to get that mad about the Games. I guess it's such a spectacle that… I kinda forget it's a big deal for people like you."

People like you. The words echoed in her head endlessly. People like you.

"And…" the words were thick on her tongue. "... what kind of… person… am I?"

Sasuke tilted his head with a hum. "... someone… persistent. Determined. When you competed in the Games, I got the sense that you were someone with a kind heart. That tribute from District Eleven… oh, what was her name…?"

The memory of the younger girl made her throat grow tight. She could barely choke out the name. "M- Moegi…?"

"Yeah, her." He nodded with a faraway smile. "I couldn't stop watching when you were together. You protected her like you had someone precious in mind. It was… very admirable. Noble."

Sakura tried to dab at her eyes so her meticulously-done eyeliner wouldn't smudge. Moegi's death was still an open wound, a ghost that refused to stop haunting her every time she shut her eyes.

She shook her head, taking a hasty sip of her champagne to distract herself.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I cheered you on every step of the way." With a charming smile, he clinked the rim of his glass to hers before stepping away. "I'll see you around. Enjoy the capitol."

As he walked away, Sakura felt her world constrict just a little more, and further did the shadows crept along the floor, threatening to trap her in their darkness.

She took a hearty swig of the drink, and, eyes watering and throat clogged with emotion, made her way back to the alcohol.