Under The Hanging Tree

Quarter Quell

The ringing in Mikasa's ears drowned out the sound of the television broadcast. The sight of the president's sickening plastered smile on screen melted into a watercolor blur as Mikasa's vision began to gloss over. Her initial reaction was bewilderment. She stared into President Reiss' projected eyes as if waiting for him to clear his throat and correct himself with an apology, but it never came. In fact, he repeated himself.

"All tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors."

It finally sank in. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. The news of this upcoming Quarter Quell and its sick new twist sent her into a panic that froze her where she stood. Mikasa's throat tightened and dried. She wanted to cry, to scream and protest. No words bubbled out of her throat. Instead, the phrase rang in her ears like an alarm.

All tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors.
All tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors.
All tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors.

Mikasa had won the games not even a full year ago, but she was already going to be thrown back into an arena for the cruel entertainment of the Capital. A game like this was really upping the ante.
District 12 had no other living female victors. That meant that there was 100% certainty that she'd be reaped for this year's games, along with one of the only other two victors. That meant that either Levi or Armin would be sent back to the games with her. Either way, the odds wouldn't be in their favor.

Levi was in no condition to fight; years of alcoholism along with age chipped away at any glint of survivalism left in the man. Armin, although better off, had won the games only a year before her. His mind was still fragile, as was Mikasa's. Not that she'd admit it out loud, but a part of her hoped they'd take Levi. She'd grown very fond of Armin. He was her longtime friend, and their bond had only grown closer when the both of them became victors. They had a lot to bond over now, and knowing that there was a possibility that he'd be killed made her absolutely sick to her stomach.
Mikasa's temples throbbed as a migraine came on. Her brain must've hated her, because all that could come to mind was the memory of the games. Her own win had landed her in controversy with the Capital, the president himself constantly on her back. It was only going to get worse from here, especially with her act of rebellion fresh in the minds of the game makers.

—

"You really fucked up this time," Levi muttered a scoff, taking a rough swig from his flask. Mikasa leaned against the balcony railing, expression twisted with confusion. "By...winning the games?" She didn't exactly get what her mentor was getting at. "By making the Capital look stupid, Mikasa. You threw their own game in their face and they're not gonna take too kindly to that."
It was her turn to scoff, but it was more of a confused reaction. After a moment though, Mikasa's shoulders dropped, realizing what Levi meant. "The berries...."
"They're not happy that they almost didn't have a victor."
Levi gulped down the last of his liquor and shoved the empty metal flask in his coat pocket. "You better watch your back." His voice was deathly serious, lacking the almost endearing sarcasm his voice was usually saturated in.
"I didn't want there to be a victor," Mikasa admitted. "That's why I was going to eat the nightlock, after I..." She felt almost too sick to say it out loud. "After I killed the last tribute." She pursed her lips tightly, trying to wrest the memory out of her mind. "I didn't want to be another piece in their game. If I had known I was going to have to live like that, then..." she began to trail off, wondering if it was even worth saying. "Then what?" Levi's voice was stern, but not uncaring.
"Then I'd rather have not lived at all."

—

Mikasa still stood by that sentiment. In fact, as time passed it only seemed like she believed it more and more. She couldn't bear the idea of having to go back to the arena. She won and she would never have to worry about it again! That was the deal— at least before now. She figured that there were no rules if you were the one making them. How cruel.

Her body reacted before her mind did, and she was on her feet and out the door in seconds. The cold air bit at Mikasa's exposed skin, but that didn't matter. She scrambled across Victor's Village, pounding on the door of Armin's house as soon as she got to it. Mikasa needed to know if he was okay. She couldn't imagine him or Levi handling the news well. She couldn't imagine any victor taking the rule announcement with grace.

It didn't take long for Armin to open the door. Mikasa was immediately let in, the warmth of the house doing little to lessen the chill in her body. Her eyes darted to the living room, where Levi already sat. Even from far away, she could tell he had been drinking. Levi had always been the type to take care of himself, but right now he reeked of alcohol. The two of them locked eyes, and Mikasa swore he looked concerned for her. Armin didn't look too great either. His face was pale and all the vibrant color in his blue eyes had drained. It was apparent that the three of them handled their situation just as badly as each other. Mikasa slumped down on the couch, Levi dragging himself to the side to make room for her. The three of them were silent, only exchanging glances at each other. None of them knew what to say, because none of them had ever even heard of something like this happening. As far as they knew, nothing like this had happened before.

"The reaping isn't for another couple weeks," Armin broke the silence, immediately trying to come up with a game plan. "That means we have time to figure out what we're going to do."
"What we're going to do is get sent to our deaths," Levi retorted. "While one of us has to mentor and watch it happen."

It wasn't like Levi to just lay down and give up, but he wasn't exactly himself at the moment. It had been 25 years since he'd last been inside an arena, and the idea of being sent back was something that even he knew would end in demise. He'd defied the Capital once and paid for it in everything but his life. Mikasa never asked exactly how he won but from what little details she had learned, it pissed President Reiss off, and nobody wanted to piss him off.

Armin frowned with reproach, shaking his head at Levi's rather pessimistic conclusion. "We don't know that. One of us could win." He tried to be hopeful, but he was mostly trying to convince himself that it was true. "Mikasa for sure had to go, but..." he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to find an appropriate way to word his thoughts. "...We don't know if you or I have to go, Levi."

Armin had won the games two years prior mostly because of his environment and will to live. That year, the arena was a swamp landscape. Though Armin was at a disadvantage, both because of his lack of familiarity with the environment and physical strength, he made up for it using his strategic abilities. All that was left in the games was him and the career pack. He knew that he could never physically overpower all four of them, but he knew there was a way to use their environment to his advantage.
Throughout the games sponsors took notice of his intelligence, and showered him in gifts of tools and medicine. Armin devised a plan, and used everything he received to create a simple trap. He used a long metal cord he received from sponsors and wove it around electrical tools he scavenged from the Cornucopia after the bloodbath. He placed the electric contraption into the murky water, and climbed one of the sturdy trees above. When the career pack came looking for him, they walked right into the very conductive water. Those four tributes were Armin's only kills, and it shook him to his core when he came to his senses and realized exactly what it was he did. People do crazy things to survive, something Armin still struggled to accept. He knew that he wasn't himself in the arena. He knew that the boy that violently killed four other people was not him. It still scared him to know that he was capable of it regardless.
A thought seeped into his mind, making his stomach bubble with anxiety.

What if that Armin comes back in the arena?

Sure, he was conscious now, but that doesn't mean he felt completely in control. He certainly didn't feel in control the first time it happened and though he knew that he only acted out of survival, deep down he couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself for feeding into it.

After all, no decent person ever wins the Hunger Games.