Three days before The Reaping
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Sasuke woke up and immediately noticed that Sakura was already gone. The bed beside him was empty and cold, and the faint light of dawn filtered through the curtains. He exited their room and looked around the house but found no one. With a sense of familiarity, he made his way to the backyard. There, he saw his wife tending to her small garden, where a variety of herbs and plants grew.
Sakura was busy, as always, watering her plants and gathering herbs for her concocted medicines. She moved with practiced ease, her hands deftly picking the necessary ingredients, her focus unwavering. She was preparing for the influx of patients that would undoubtedly flood her today, especially since there was a flu going around and many of Sasuke's coworkers were falling ill from inhaling toxic minerals and fumes from the coal mines.
A small frown creased Sasuke's lips as he watched his wife work herself to the bone, waking up so early for her daily routines dedicated to her patients. He admired her dedication, but it pained him to see her bear such a heavy burden.
Knowing that she wouldn't want to be disturbed once she started her work, Sasuke decided to leave her to her routines. Instead, he went to the kitchen to reheat the leftover deer stew from last night. As the stew warmed up, he sliced some bread for breakfast. The simple act of preparing breakfast brought him a small measure of comfort, a fleeting moment of normalcy in their otherwise harsh lives.
He left the prepared breakfast on the kitchen table for Sakura, ensuring everything was neatly arranged. With one last glance toward the backyard, where Sakura was still engrossed in her work, he quietly left the house and headed to the coal mines for another grueling day of labor.
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Sasuke wiped the sweat from his brow as he swung his pickaxe against the coal seam, the rhythmic clinking of metal against rock filling the dimly lit mine. The air was thick with dust, and the oppressive heat made every breath a laborious task. He could feel the familiar ache in his muscles, the strain from hours of manual labor taking its toll. The coal mines were a harsh, unforgiving place, where every shift left the workers exhausted and worn down.
During his short break, Sasuke spotted Naruto approaching him, a familiar grin plastered on his face despite the dirt and grime that covered them both. Naruto, always full of energy, plopped down beside him, wiping his hands on his already filthy pants.
"Sasuke-teme! How's Sakura-chan doing?" Naruto asked, his eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity.
Sasuke, caught off guard, blurted out, "She's fine and we're engaged now."
Naruto's grin widened even further, if that was possible. "About time, teme! I knew it was only a matter of time before you guys tied the knot. You're practically married since the two of you got together."
Sasuke rolled his eyes and grunted, "Hn."
Naruto chuckled but then his expression turned slightly serious. "But why'd you propose at a time like this? You know, with the reaping and all? Surely you haven't forgotten about that?"
"Of course I haven't, dobe. I'm not an idiot," Sasuke retorted, his tone sharp.
Naruto's eyebrows raised. "So why the timing then?"
Sasuke fell silent, lost in thought. Naruto watched him, his usual impatience held in check by concern for his friend. After a few moments, Sasuke took a sharp breath and finally spoke. "I just… I didn't want to waste any more time. It felt like it was the right time. No other reason."
Naruto nodded slowly, sensing the weight behind Sasuke's words. He patted Sasuke on the back, a gesture of solidarity. "Well, whatever your reasons, I'll always support you. Just take care of Sakura-chan, alright? She deserves the best."
Sasuke rolled his eyes again, cringing at Naruto's words, but deep inside, he was glad to have a friend like him. "You don't have to tell me that, dobe."
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Two days before The Reaping
Sasuke felt a blissful morning after his engagement with Sakura, they're not yet officially married since they haven't done the ceremony but nonetheless, he already considers Sakura to be his wife. They figured that they could just do the official ceremony after The Reaping, so that they could at least enjoy the sacred event without any fear or anxiety clouding them. But all in all, Sasuke's life had never felt so peaceful. He always wanted it to be like this, waking up next to Sakura, her naked body flushed and cuddled around him. He felt at peace, happy, and content.
But somewhere deep inside him, the selfish and ambitious part of him wanted something more. He didn't just want to settle down like this, where food, money, and security were everyday problems— luxuries they couldn't afford. Sakura deserves the best he muses. She deserves everything..
He imagined a life where Sakura didn't have to slave herself in healing people and planting herbs to sell at the market, where she didn't have to endanger herself by hunting, risking capture by the Capitol for doing something illegal. A life where he didn't have to work in the coal mines, where he and the rest of the men in District 12 gives all their effort and time for a meager salary that wasn't enough to even feed one's self. A life where he didn't come home sore, bruised, and sick from inhaling toxic fumes and minerals.
Sasuke is an ambitious man. He wanted Sakura and the family he planned to have with her to live a life of comfort, a life where they didn't fight for scraps or worry about where to get money for food.
So an idea popped in his head, a way to give Sakura the life she deserves— a life his future children deserves.
He knows that this idea is downright outrageous, batshit crazy— suicidal in a sense, but still, he can't seem to get the idea out of his head. He knows that his brother would not approve of this, he is also 100% sure that Sakura would hate him if he ever goes with it but what can he do? He wants a better life for them, a life far more better than this. They don't deserve this— she doesn't deserve this.
Sensing a headache, Sasuke massaged his temples and promptly shoves his thoughts, he still have 2 days to think about whatever this is.
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Two days before the reaping, Sasuke walked home with his brother, Itachi, after another grueling day at the coal mines. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the worn path that led to their small, shared home. Sasuke's mind was elsewhere, far from the mundane routines of their harsh reality. His shoulders were tense, his gaze distant, and his silence palpable. Itachi noticed the change in his brother's demeanor, a stark contrast to the usual stoic resilience he displayed.
As they neared their home, Itachi attempted to lighten the mood. "So, little brother, moving in with Sakura now, huh? Guess you're a family man already," he teased, nudging Sasuke's shoulder.
But Sasuke's expression remained somber, lost in deep thought. Itachi's playful smirk faded as concern crept into his features. "Sasuke, what's the matter? Aren't you happy that Sakura agreed to marry you?"
Sasuke stopped walking and turned to face his brother, his eyes serious and troubled. "It's not that, Itachi."
Itachi's brow furrowed, his worry growing. "Then what is it? This isn't like you. What's going on?"
"I—" Sasuke paused. Is it really a good idea to share his plans to Itachi? Sasuke contemplated for a minute. Maybe his brother might have some useful advice he could use.
Taking a deep breath, Sasuke met Itachi's gaze, his own eyes filled with grim determination. "I'm considering volunteering for the Hunger Games."
Itachi's reaction was immediate and fierce. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. "What the hell are you talking about, Sasuke? Why would you even consider that?"
Sasuke's voice was steady, but the weight of his words was heavy. "Because I want Sakura to live a comfortable life. Winning the Hunger Games is the only way to make that happen."
In a flash, Itachi grabbed Sasuke's collar, his grip tight and unyielding. "I'll only say this once, Sasuke, so listen well. Nobody ever wins the Games. Period. There are only the survivors and the dead."
Sasuke swatted Itachi's hand away, his own anger rising. "I know what I'm capable of Itachi. Everyone knows that if someone from District 12 were to win, it would be me."
Internally, Sasuke is proud of skills— skills he inherited from his father and brother, skills he honed and perfected over the years. He knows his own strength, as does everyone in District 12. Among them, he and Itachi are unmatched in skill and capability. In a district where survival hinges on strength and cunning, Sasuke's confidence is well-founded. Moreover, this is his last year eligible for the Reaping; at twenty years old, his name will soon be exempt from the pool of potential tributes.
Itachi's expression remained hard, his disbelief unwavering. "I know what you're capable of, Sasuke. I trained you. Father trained you. But there are volunteers who can rival your strength, especially the Careers who have been training for their lives just to win the games. Are you willing to sacrifice your own life and your future with Sakura for the mere possibility of a more comfortable life? For something as fleeting as money and fame?"
Sasuke was momentarily speechless, unable to find a retort to Itachi's impassioned words. His resolve faltered under the weight of his brother's conviction.
Itachi's voice softened slightly, but his eyes remained stern. "Think about it, Sasuke. Let go of that arrogance of yours before it becomes your downfall."
Sasuke's mind churned with conflicting emotions as he looked at his brother, the reality of Itachi's words sinking in. The gravity of the decision he was contemplating weighed heavily on him, casting a dark shadow over his thoughts. The engagement ring on Sakura's finger, the promise of a future together, all seemed to teeter on the edge of an abyss filled with danger and uncertainty.
He gathered his remaining things from the house and prepared to leave to go to Sakura's, the sense of impending doom loomed larger than ever.
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Sakura moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, the comforting aroma of her cooking filling the modest space. She was preparing dinner, waiting for Sasuke to come home. She knew from earlier that his work at the coal mines would end soon, but he had mentioned that he'd be a bit late because he needed to collect his remaining belongings from his house. They had decided to start living together at her home, given that she lived alone. She knew this change would benefit them both and Itachi; it would give them the chance to share their lives more fully, and she longed for the simplicity of waking up beside him each morning.
As she worked, her thoughts drifted to Itachi. Sakura had seen him walking with Izumi recently, though he had not mentioned anything to either her or Sasuke about a new relationship. The idea was intriguing, and she hoped that Itachi might find some happiness. Regardless, the move to her home was the right decision for her and Sasuke. She was eager to build their life together, to have him come home to her every night.
It was a little past nine when Sasuke arrived, carrying two bags filled with his belongings and the familiar sight of his chokuto sword strapped to his body. Sakura greeted him warmly, wiping her wet hands on her apron as she approached. She kissed his cheek gently and helped him with his bags, first placing the clothing in their new bedroom. She returned to the kitchen, where Sasuke had already taken a seat at the table.
As she finished setting the table, Sakura noticed that Sasuke seemed lost in thought, his usual demeanor replaced by a faraway look. He was unusually quiet, and a sense of unease settled over her.
Dinner was a somber, muted affair. Sakura tried to fill the silence with stories about her day—how she had managed her patients, the herbs she had gathered, and her efforts to keep her small clinic running. But Sasuke remained distant, his responses brief and lacking the usual warmth she was accustomed to.
Sakura's concern grew as the meal went on. She sensed that something was troubling him deeply. When she finally asked him what was wrong, he brushed it off with a simple explanation of being tired. His reluctance to open up was palpable, and Sakura knew that his silence was masking something more significant. She chose not to press him further, deciding that he would share his thoughts with her in his own time.
After dinner, Sakura cleared the table and tidied up the kitchen, her mind occupied with worry. She resolved to wait until they went to bed, hoping that he might be willing to talk then. For now, she focused on supporting him, silently hoping that whatever burden he carried would eventually be shared with her.
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Sakura emerged from the shower feeling refreshed, but the sight before her stopped her in her tracks. Sasuke was already in bed, lying on his back with his arms propped over his eyes—a gesture she knew well. It was a sign of his inner turmoil, his way of shielding himself from the world when he was troubled.
She approached him cautiously, her heart heavy with concern. Gently, she lay down beside him, positioning herself on her side. She reached out, cupping his face with tender hands, softly caressing his cheek. Sasuke responded by turning towards her. He intertwined his fingers with hers, holding them close. Sakura watched as his face relaxed slightly against her touch, his eyes remaining closed in what seemed to be a moment of solace.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Sakura decided to break it. "Sasuke, tell me what's wrong," she said softly, her voice filled with gentle urgency.
Sasuke opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a tension that was palpable. He removed his hands from her cheeks but continued to hold them firmly, his expression unreadable. He did not immediately respond to her question, leaving a heavy silence between them.
Sakura squeezed his hands more tightly, her concern deepening. "Sasuke, I can't help you if you don't tell me anything. We're husband and wife now. You know you can trust me, right?"
His eyes softened slightly, but the tension did not fully dissipate. He sighed heavily, struggling with his words. "Me and Itachi got into a misunderstanding," he finally admitted, his voice laced with frustration.
"About what?" Sakura pressed, her worry growing.
Sasuke hesitated, contemplating whether to reveal more. Sakura's impatience grew, and she called out softly, "Sasuke?"
He closed his eyes again, clearly grappling with his thoughts. After a few seconds, he finally spoke. "I told him that I'm thinking of volunteering for the reaping."
The impact of his declaration was immediate and shocking. Sakura's eyes widened in disbelief, and her body tensed. Without a word, she sat up abruptly, her emotions boiling over into anger and hurt. She looked at Sasuke with a mixture of fury and disbelief, unable to comprehend his decision.
Sasuke, having anticipated her reaction, sat up as well and tightened his grip on her hands. His expression remained inscrutable, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling inside Sakura.
Her anger flared uncontrollably. She wrenched her hands from his grasp, her face a mask of fury and pain. The reality of his decision struck her deeply. The idea of him volunteering, especially in the face of their new life together, seemed incomprehensible. How could he jeopardize everything they had built together? Was he not satisfied with their life as it was?
In a fit of rage, Sakura shoved him hard on the chest. The force of the push sent Sasuke sprawling onto his back on the bed, his eyes wide with surprise. Sakura straddled him, her hands pressing firmly against his chest, her body trembling with emotion.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice quivering with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Why would you even think of doing that? What on earth has gotten into you?"
The room was filled with the weight of her distress, and Sasuke lay beneath her, trying to read the anger and hurt etched on her face. The silence that followed was thick with unresolved tension.
Sakura's heart pounded with distress as she straddled Sasuke, tears streaming down her face. The gravity of his decision weighed heavily on her, each droplet of her anguish reflecting the depth of her fear and heartbreak.
"Why, Sasuke? Tell me! Why the hell would you even think of volunteering?!" she cried out, her voice cracking with raw emotion.
Sasuke, seeing her in such pain, reached out to the back of her neck. With gentle urgency, he pulled her closer, urging her to lay down on him. Sakura, overwhelmed, complied and settled onto his chest, her sobs muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Sasuke's hand moved tenderly through her hair, his other arm wrapping around her waist in a comforting embrace. He rubbed soothing circles on her back, trying to offer the solace he could as she cried uncontrollably.
Minutes ticked by, and her cries began to subside, though her tears still wet Sasuke's chest. He continued to caress her hair and back, his presence a steady anchor amidst her turmoil. Eventually, he broke the silence, his voice a soft whisper against her ear.
"I wanted to volunteer because I want to give you the life you deserve," he murmured. "Winning the Hunger Games would certainly do it."
Sakura's head lifted slightly, though Sasuke's tight embrace kept her close. "I don't need to live the best life, Sasuke," she said softly. "You are what I need. I don't need wealth, I don't care if we're poor or struggling. As long as we have each other, we can survive this, we always do. And I— I don't want anything from you. I only need you to survive."
At her heartfelt declaration, Sasuke's grip tightened, if that was even possible. He held her closer, his arms an ironclad promise of protection and love.
"But what about our future children, Sakura? Don't you want them to have a better life?" he asked softly.
"Of course I do! What parent doesn't want the best for their child?" Sakura replied, her voice a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "But this isn't just about a having better life; you're about risk your own life! I… I can't bear the thought of you joining the games. I don't know what I would do without you."
"Sakura—"
"No, Sasuke," she interrupted, her voice firm and resolute. "I can't let you do that. Not for you, not for me, not even for our children."
There was a brief silence as Sasuke loosened his hold slightly. Sakura took this opportunity to look him in the eye, her gaze pleading and unwavering. She cupped his cheeks with trembling hands, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"Promise me, Sasuke," she whispered urgently. "Promise me that you will not volunteer for the reaping."
Sasuke's gaze shifted away, unable to meet her desperate eyes. Sakura gently but insistently turned his face back to hers. "Sasuke, please… promise me you won't volunteer or else…"
His brows furrowed, confusion mingling with his concern. "Or else what?"
Sakura's tone turned cold and resolute, leaving no room for negotiation. "Or I won't forgive you. I won't ever forgive you."
Sakura's heart pounded in her chest as she looked into Sasuke's eyes, searching for any sign that he understood the gravity of her plea. Her words had been raw, full of desperation and love, and now she needed to know that he truly heard her. As if sensing her turmoil, Sasuke's grip tightened around her, and he pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss.
The world seemed to stand still as Sakura responded, her arms wrapping around his neck, drawing him even closer. The intensity of their kiss conveyed all the emotions they couldn't put into words. She felt his hand move to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, each kiss a silent vow that he understood, that he promised.
"Promise me, Sasuke.." Sakura muttered in between kisses. "Please…"
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Sasuke looked into her eyes with a determination she had never seen before. "Aa, I promise I won't," he muttered against her lips, then kissed her again, pouring all his love and regret into it.
Sakura felt her tears mix with their kisses, but they were tears of relief and gratitude. Each kiss from Sasuke reaffirmed his promise, the words becoming a soothing mantra against her lips. His hands roamed over her back, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.
As their kisses slowed, they rested their foreheads together, breathing heavily. The room around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in their world of passion and promises. Sasuke's thumb brushed away her remaining tears, his expression soft but resolute.
"I won't volunteer," he repeated, his voice steady and sure.
Sakura nodded, her heart swelling with love and trust. "Good. I love you…" she whispered, pressing one last tender kiss to his lips before nestling her head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her ear. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other close, drawing comfort and strength from their shared embrace.
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In that moment, Sasuke should've made her promise it too. But he was too lost in the moment, too lost in her kisses and love, to realize the peril in his oversight. He forgot that Sakura needed to promise him that one too, a promise that might have sealed their fate differently…
Oh what cruel fates the Gods have designed
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their choices, decisions, consequences— all intertwined
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They who chose to gamble their destiny
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a move they'll regret for all eternity…
THE DAY OF THE REAPING
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The day of the reaping, the most dreaded day of the year, had arrived. Sasuke watched his wife as she finished braiding her long pink hair in front of the mirror in their bedroom. He was just about done buttoning up his cream-colored long-sleeve shirt, a gift from his brother for his last birthday. Itachi had insisted on a light-colored shirt because he always complained about Sasuke's preference for black. So here he is, wearing a shirt he didn't particularly like, at his wife's insistence that it looked good on him.
Sasuke inwardly rolled his eyes at his wife and brother's scheming. As if he needed to look good for the reaping..
As he finished dressing, he left the bedroom to get his shoes and waited for Sakura in the living room. The air was thick with tension, the kind that only the reaping day could bring. Every breath felt heavier, every sound sharper.
As he finished putting on his shoes, Sakura emerged from the bedroom. Her pink hair was intricately braided, soft bangs framing her face, her beautiful emerald eyes shining in the morning light. She wore a simple, flowy baby blue dress with short sleeves and a V-neck collar, cinched at the waist with a dark blue belt to accentuate her slim waist and figure. Sasuke looked at his wife and thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Her beauty was unique, exotic, and truly ethereal. He felt lucky that she had chosen him to be her husband, the one with whom she would spend her entire life.
Breaking his trance, Sakura spoke, "How do I look?" Her voice was soft and melodic, but he could sense the anxiety within it.
Sasuke stood from the sofa and approached her. He cupped her cheeks and pressed a chaste kiss on her pink lips. "You look beautiful," he said, and she did.
Sakura smiled at him, her sweet smile, the smile reserved only for him. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice laced with anxiety and fear.
Sasuke grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. He nodded. "Hn."
Hand in hand, they exited the door and proceeded to the district center for the reaping. The streets of District 12 were eerily quiet, the usual hum of daily life replaced by the somber stillness of dread. Each step toward the center felt heavier.
Everywhere they looked, faces were pale and eyes were wide with fear. Families clung to one another, desperate to hold on to the moments they had before the names were called. The air was thick with the scent of coal and the unspoken prayers of a district on edge. As they approached the gathering crowd, Sasuke tightened his grip on Sakura's hand, a silent vow to protect her at all costs.
As they reached the district center, the somber atmosphere was suffocating. The stage was set, and the Peacekeepers stood in their menacing white uniforms.
They walked until they reached the line where the boys and girls had to separate. Sasuke squeezed Sakura's hand one last time, a silent comfort for the day they were about to face. Sakura tensed, her body slightly shaking. Sasuke noticed and turned to face her, concern evident in his eyes. Sensing his gaze, Sakura looked up at him and suddenly hugged him tight, as if he might disappear if she let go. Sasuke hugged her back with the same intensity, a comfort they both needed.
They held each other for a few precious moments before she whispered in his ear, "Honor your promise, Sasuke." He could only nod, unable to find words. Then they reluctantly separated, neither looking back as they lined up in their respective lines to validate their names as potential tributes.
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Sasuke let his eyes wander through the crowd, taking in the familiar faces. All of them bore the same expressions: scared, worried, terrified. He glanced back to where the families of the potential tributes waited, searching for his brother. After a few seconds, he spotted Itachi at the far left side of the crowd, looking directly at him. Their eyes met, and they had a silent stare-down for a few moments. Itachi slowly shook his head, silently communicating, Don't do it, Sasuke.
Sasuke nodded and flashed a smirk in return, silently conveying, I know, brother. With the assurance that his brother understood his intentions, Sasuke turned back to face the stage. He resisted the urge to glance at Sakura, fearing the expression she might wear. The reaping day always held a grim atmosphere, and he didn't want to see the anxiety reflected in her eyes.
A few seconds later, the host for the reaping emerged. It was a woman with light brown eyes, purple hair styled in a short, spiky fanned-out ponytail. She wore a deep purple dress with gold embroidery in intricate serpent designs, a high collar made of expensive lace, black leather gloves, and a gold serpent arm cuff that coiled around her wrist. Everything about her screamed expensive and purely Capitol, Sasuke mused. He felt his irritation bubble up as he observed her. How could these people wear such ridiculous outfits when everyone in Ninshu is struggling with poverty?
Pushing his anger aside, Sasuke waited for the host to start her speech. A moment later, the lone victor left in District 12 emerged from backstage to join the host. Kakashi Hatake, the victor of the 67th Hunger Games, made his way to the stage. As usual, he wore his black mask that covered half his face, a lone eyepatch over his left eye—the eye he lost during the games—and his trusty orange book tucked under his arm. Sasuke had to suppress his desire to roll his eyes at the sight of the two people standing on the stage.
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The host began her speech, her voice carrying a forced cheerfulness that grated on Sasuke's nerves. "Welcome, citizens of District 12, to the reaping for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!" she announced, her smile wide and artificial. "I am Anko Mitarashi, your host for today's ceremony."
Sasuke's attention drifted as the host droned on about the honor and pride of being chosen. His mind was occupied with the weight of the promise he made to Sakura. The reality of the reaping felt suffocating, each second dragging on like an eternity. He stole a glance at Itachi, who stood stoically among the families, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with a silent plea.
As Anko Mitarashi approached the glass bowls, the air in the District 12 square felt thick and suffocating. Her forced enthusiasm grated on Sasuke's nerves, her voice an irritating echo against the backdrop of collective anxiety.
"Let's start with the gentlemen first, shall we?" she chirped, though the smile on her face was anything but genuine.
Sasuke's pulse raced with a mixture of apprehension and dread. He wasn't afraid of the Games themselves; his skills and training made him confident in his ability to survive. But the raw tension of the moment was undeniable, he was still human after all. What is this tension he is feeling? Is it the fear of someone close to him being chosen, like Naruto? Or is it the anticipation of his own name being called, knowing it would be a decision made not by him but by fate? The uncertainty gnawed at him.
As Anko's hand delved into the bowl picking up a piece of white paper, the entire square seemed to hold its breath. Each male tribute stood rigid, their eyes darting nervously, trying to catch any sign of hope or doom. Families and friends watched with bated breath, their faces masks of dread. Sasuke scanned the crowd, seeking a familiar face. He saw Naruto, looking tense and pale, and Shikamaru, whose closed eyes and heavy breathing betrayed his own turmoil. Sasuke's chest tightened, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
Anko's heels clicked sharply against the stage as she made her way to the microphone. The noise seemed to pierce through the silence, heightening the tension. With a theatrical flourish, she unfolded the slip of paper. The crowd's silence was deafening, broken only by the whisper of Anko's voice, laced with cruel delight.
"This year's male tribute is none other than… Uchiha Sasuke."
The gasp that followed was a tidal wave of shock and pity. Heads turned in unison, eyes locking onto Sasuke as he struggled to maintain his calm. The crowd's expressions were a morass of relief, sadness, and fear, each gaze a silent commentary on his fate. His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, a constant reminder of the peril that lay ahead.
As he walked toward the stage, he dared glance at Sakura. The sight was like a punch to the gut—her face was contorted with anguish, her eyes wide with fear, and a single tear traced down her cheek. The pain in her expression was a dagger to his heart. He wanted to rush back to her, to comfort her, but the gravity of the situation demanded he continue forward.
With every step toward the stage, the weight of the situation settled heavily on him. The cacophony of emotions, the fearful whispers of the crowd, and the deepening despair etched into Sakura's face created an atmosphere so tense it felt almost tangible. Sasuke forced himself to focus on the ahead, pushing his own turmoil aside. For Sakura's sake, he had to remain composed. His resolve hardened as he ascended the steps, knowing that he must face the inevitable with the same stoicism he had always relied upon.
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As Sasuke reached the stage, he caught Kakashi's gaze—his lone eye reflecting a trace of pity. Sasuke brushed it off— pity is a luxury he couldn't afford now nor does he need.
Anko's voice sliced through the murmurs of the crowd. "Now, now, I know you're all excited for this year's male tribute as he is quite an eye candy don't you think?," she said with a sickeningly sweet smile. She gestured for Sasuke to move to the center of the stage. He obliged, his movements calculated and composed despite the turmoil churning inside him.
From his elevated vantage point, Sasuke surveyed the sea of faces. The crowd was a mosaic of emotions—children clinging to their parents, old men and women with lines etched deep by years of hardship. Among the boys, relief was the most common expression, tinged with admiration for the one chosen. Sasuke caught Naruto's eye, but the expression on his friend's face was inscrutable—perhaps a mixture of anger, pity, or sadness. It was hard to tell.
Sasuke averted his gaze, and focused his attention on the floor. He didn't want to dwell on the emotions of the crowd, especially Sakura's and his brother's. His internal thoughts were a jumble of conflicting feelings. Despite the dread of being chosen, he felt a peculiar relief that he hadn't broken his promise to Sakura by volunteering. He hadn't chosen this path, but now that it was thrust upon him, he found a glimmer of hope. This was his chance to secure a future not only for himself but for Sakura, his brother Itachi, and perhaps even Naruto if he managed to win. He's an Uchiha for goodness sake—two of his relatives, his great uncle Madara and cousin Obito, had triumphed in the Games and now lived in the Capitol. And maybe— just maybe, he could follow in their footsteps. If he won, he could bring Sakura, Itachi, and Naruto to the Capitol, where they could live in comfort and—
His thoughts were abruptly shattered by a sudden, jarring interruption. A voice rang out from the crowd, a voice he knew all too well, declaring the forbidden words, I volunteer. The voice was unmistakable and filled with a resolute determination that made his heart sink. It was a voice he always, always, wanted to hear but had hoped to never to hear in such a context— speaking the dreadfully awful words I volunteer as tribute.
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Sakura stood in the crowd, her anxiety barely contained as she clutched Ino's hand. Ino, visibly distressed, feared the brutality of the Games and the effect it would have on her and her unborn child if she was to be chosen as tribute. Sakura could sense the gravity of Ino's fears, which were far, far, greater than her own. As a friend, Sakura offered silent comfort, gripping Ino's hand tightly.
The reaping ceremony was somber, from the introduction of the host and her speech declaring the significance of the games, but Sakura chose to avoid looking at the stage. Her heart couldn't take all of this happenings at once so she chose to stay quiet, head bowed down, hands firmly intertwined with Ino. She tried to clear her thoughts and forced her mind to think of nothing but happy things— thoughts about Sasuke, or anything that might help her not focus on The Reaping. She forced herself to breathe properly, tuning out the whispers and silent murmurs of fear. Yet, amidst her efforts, one sound pierced through her mental shield: the announcement of the male tribute.
When Anko's voice rang out, Uchiha Sasuke, Sakura's heart shattered into a million pieces. Ino's grip tightened, her trembling hands and cold, sweaty palms reflecting her own fear. Sakura turned slowly, her eyes locking with Sasuke's as he moved toward the stage. The moment their eyes met, the world seemed to freeze. Onyx eyes against her emerald eyes. And in that moment, she knew that her greatest fear had materialized—Sasuke was the chosen male tribute.
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks because despite making Sasuke promise to never volunteer in the games, he was still chosen. His promise to her wasn't able to save him from the games because all of this is already written in their fates. Promise or no promise, Uchiha Sasuke was destined to be in the games.
Despair overwhelmed her. She wanted to cry, to scream, to dismantle the stage and set the world ablaze, but only a single tear traced down her face. Because no matter what she'd do or how much she wished otherwise, the decision had been made. Sasuke's fate, as well as her own, was now irrevocably altered.
As Sasuke took his place on the stage, Sakura's heart felt like it was turning to dust. Her lover, her confidant, her husband, was now the official male tribute of District 12. She cried silently, her head bowed as tears fell freely onto the cold ground. Ino, beside her, tried to comfort her, but the gesture did little to ease her pain. Sakura could hear Anko's voice announcing that it was time to choose the female tribute, but her attention was solely on Sasuke. He was not paying attention, his head was bowed down as if tuning everything out.
Anko's voice rang out, her tone deceptively cheerful, "The female tribute from District 12 is…"
Please, please, please. Just pick someone that's not Ino or someone she loves please. Anyone— anyone, just not her closest friends. She couldn't bare the thought that someone she's close to is going to fight to the death with Sasuke of all people because she knew they wouldn't stand a chance against him. It may sound selfish but deep inside her heart she wanted Sasuke to emerge as the Victor.
But of course, of course the world seems to love toying with their lives because Anko's next words felt like a knife to Sakura's heart. "Ino Yamanaka."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She knew it.
She fucking knew it. What the in deepest layer of hell is this? Is this some kind of a sick joke?
The announcement felt like a cruel twist of fate. Ino's face went ashen as she fell to her knees, trembling violently. Sakura's heart, already shattered, was now utterly destroyed. She heard the anguished screams and cries of Ino's mother pierce through the chaos, and Sakura dared to glanced at Shikamaru, who wore an expression of profound anguish and hurt in his usually calm expression. The sight of Ino, broken and slumped on the ground, was too much to bear.
Ino didn't move from her spot despite being called by Anko. The peacemakers grew impatient and decided to take matters into their hands. Five peacemakers began to move to where Sakura and Ino stood.
Two Peacemakers moved to forcibly drag Ino to the stage, and Sakura could see Shikamaru and Naruto try to intervene by attacking the peacemakers who is currently dragging Ino, but were immediately stopped by the other three. Sakura was paralyzed, unable to move or breathe, her mind racing as the situation spiraled out of control. Ino was being violently dragged away, anguished cries and screams from the crowd are now being heard but the only thing Sakura can hear was her own voice mutering the words I volunteer.
The crowd fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Anko's voice cut through the silence, "Who was that? And did I hear someone volunteer?"
Sakura's mind went blank, she can't form coherent thoughts anymore. She is only driven by instinct and a sense of irrevocable resolve. Sakura moved forward, her feet carried her to the aisle as if on autopilot. Facing Anko, she forced herself to speak with grim determination "Sakura Haruno, and I volunteer as tribute."
The crowd erupted in chaos the moment Sakura's voice rang out, declaring her volunteer status. The shockwave of her decision rippled through the assembly, igniting a fervor that quickly turned to pandemonium.
Naruto's voice, raw with anguish, cut through the din as he yelled in protest, his face a mask of desperation. Ino, still trembling on the ground, screamed in heart-wrenching dismay, her cries melding with the tumultuous uproar around her. Shikamaru's usually composed demeanor shattered as he struggled against the Peacemakers holding him back, his shouts a mixture of anger and despair.
The uproar spread like wildfire. Old and young, men and women alike, joined in the chorus of outrage. The beloved healer of District 12, the woman who had mended their wounds and offered solace in times of despair, was now stepping forward into a death sentence. Cries of protest and disbelief filled the air, the collective grief and horror of the district manifesting in a singular, frenzied uproar.
The crowd surged and heaved, a living entity of shared sorrow and fury. Mothers clutched their children closer, elders shook their heads in dismay, and friends reached out to one another, seeking comfort in the face of the impending tragedy. The atmosphere was thick with a palpable sense of loss, the hope that Sakura had embodied now seeming like a distant, fragile thing on the brink of being snuffed out.
But despite the screams, protests, and uproar in the background, Sakura's attention was drawn solely to Sasuke. He stared at her with wide eyes, filled with a storm of anger, hurt, betrayal, and anguish. His mouth hung slightly open in shock, fists clenched so tightly they turned white. His posture was as stiff as a rock. In that moment, Sakura knew Sasuke wanted to lunge at her, to shake her violently, to make her understand the gravity of her actions and decisions. But no matter what he'd do or say, both their fates were now sealed.
Steeling herself, Sakura walked toward the stage, accepting Anko's outstretched hand as she ushered her to come forward and take center stage. She didn't dare glance at Sasuke again, feeling his penetrating gaze boring a hole through her head, trying to get across his point. Instead, she faced ahead, determined.
As she took her place at the center of the stage, Sasuke stood to her right, a silent aura of pure rage and anger.
Anko's voice rang out, clear and unaffected by the chaos below. "Let's give it up for Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura, your tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games."
She paused, looking at both of them with a twisted smile before adding, "May the odds be ever in your favor."
May
the
odds
be
ever
in
their
favor