The Hunger Games: Mashup

Chapter Nineteen

District Four

Robin never liked the Games. She hated being alone. She knew that if she was put into the Games, she would be alone. She was too trusting to allow herself to become allied with someone who would eventually kill her. Even so, it's not like she had no chance of surviving Games. She had a special ability that no one but Ichigo knew about. She wouldn't show anyone that power until she was put into the Games.

Ichigo...she never wanted him in the Games. He was too young—and full of life. She didn't want him to be slaughtered ruthlessly by the other Districts. Of course, he was also part of the Career group, considering District 4 was a favorite of the Capitol. The Capitol people did love their fish.

She knew she would die in the Games. It was a simple fact. The highest probability one had to survive the Games was to join a team—and that was out of the question for her.

Robin had dressed for the occasion, nonetheless. So had Ichigo. She wore a tight fitting red dress that had a turtleneck neckline. It clung to her body, accentuating her shapely curves. It stopped above her knees, but had slits on the sides of the dress that were about a foot high. She wore boots made of the same sleek leather, and they raised up to her knees. Robin liked to dress sexy. It made her feel more confident in herself. She didn't care about the ogling guys or the jealous little girls—she dressed to impress herself. She needed confidence anyways. In the Games, if you doubted yourself, you were dead. Ichigo's dad apparently had forced him into a white dress shirt and black tie. Still, Robin was surprised to see that he had managed to escape his house with dark blue jeans and his favorite sneakers. He had also worn his headphones, connected to his iPod. They rested on his shoulders for now. She knew his tradition was to go sit on the pier and listen to music after the Games, as a way to calm down the anticipation and adrenaline pumping in his system.

The announcer was still up there, and had been for the past half-hour, prattling on and on about his achievements, but looking about as bored as a teenager watching paint dry. He had identified himself as Wapon, or Wipon, or something. The only thing Robin found astonishing about him was how fat he was. She imagined the stage floor cracking under his weight, and she smiled to herself as she imagined the dull, egocentric man falling through the floorboards like the ball of lard he was. But, he didn't. In fact, he kept eating while he was talking. She would have found it quite disgusting, if he didn't eat in such a peculiar way. His clown of a servant, dressed in a jester's outfit with a permanent scowl etched on his face, brought him trays and trays of strange things. He devoured everything. The blue jester had brought him planks of wood to nibble on, stray cannonballs to munch on, and large piles of anchor rope that the man devoured like spaghetti. Robin wondered what he would eat next when he finally ate the tray itself, giving a large belch, and patted his stomach.

“Anyways, I know you all love to hear about my life, but we really must announce the next tributes for the Games,” said Wapol, licking away the last bit of debris from his iron chin. He looked at the microphone with a glint in his eye, but after much internal struggle and deliberation, decided against eating it.

“Let's get this over with. I'm starving,” Robin heard him utter to his jester grunt. Robin suppressed a smile. As disagreeable as he was, she did enjoy Wapol's large and interesting appetite.

I wonder what gave him the ability to eat such things? she thought to herself calmly.

Ichigo stood a couple groups away from Robin. They were separated by ages. Ichigo was fifteen, and Robin was eighteen. Either one of them could be chosen for the Games. Robin just hoped that neither one of them would be chosen. Ichigo caught her grinning and he began to make signals with his hands and fingers. Their pirate crew had learned a secret language they called Syne. It was basically motions with the hands. Robin and Ichigo began to have a silent conversation.

How are you? Ichigo asked her.

Nervous, she syned back.

Me too. I know it must be harder for you. You've got more names in the drawing ball than I do, he told her back. She nodded at him. He shrugged.

You probably won't get chosen. We get a decent amount of food out here, but there are still a lot more people who have used the tessarae rule. You haven't used it at all. You'll be fine. There's only twenty-eight slips in there with your name in them. That's only 1% of the of the slips that could be there, max, he said to her. She gave him a small smile. She knew he was just trying to make her happy, but she knew she wouldn't be happy until the Games were over. She watched the Games...same as everyone else—but only to see who would be coming home, and the rest who wouldn't be. After her district's tributes died, she usually turned off the TV. She couldn't watch such senseless killings. In that way, Ichigo was stronger and more mature than she was. He had killed people before, same as her, but he accepted it. She didn't. The thing that worried her most was that if she lost herself in the arena, the Games really could drive her insane.

I just hope you don't get chosen, she syned him. She saw him spit on the ground in nonchalance. The sight of his calmness assured and humored her.

Please. Even if I did get picked, I'm freakin' strong. I won't go down that easily. Have a little faith in your shipmate, he syned in return cockily. She grinned at him.

“Let's just pick a name,” said Wapol, bored. He pulled out the first slip he saw from the girl's ball. He opened it quickly and read it. When he was done, he ate it.

“Nico Robin.”

Robin heard the name echo through the crowd as everyone turned towards her. She closed her eyes against the fear that bubbled up inside of her. She took a deep breath and just passed through the crowd, as silently as a ghost. She would be calm, and smile for the camera. She forced away her terror and gave the camera man a winning smile as she passed, hoping her good looks and charm would attract at least one drooling sponsor. A girl could go far in the Games with a fan club. Wapol picked out the second name, from the boy's drawing ball this time. He ate that slip too.

“Ichigo Kurosaki.”

Robin frowned. The day hadn't gone at all as she had hoped. Instead of her and Ichigo escaping scott-free from the Games, they were both being shoved into it. Robin looked down at Ichigo's fingers and saw his right hand morphed into a simple symbol in Syne language.

Good luck. No one stepped up to take their place. Ichigo and Robin stood by each other calmly, addressing the applauding crowd. Robin gave her audience her gorgeous smile. Ichigo stood there stolidly, refusing to show any emotion other than hate towards the Capitol. Even if he had to kill Robin, he wouldn't let his little sisters and father starve because he wasn't there for them. Then again...his dad was tough, so he probably shouldn't worry about them too much.

“Sorry,” murmured Ichigo. “I can't abandon my family.”

Robin gave him a nostalgic smile. “Must be nice to have a family, Ichigo.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off with a gentle gaze. Robin gave him a small smile, and then swiftly kissed his cheek. She heard him suck in a shocked breath, but he acted as if he didn't care. The crowd went wild. Ichigo knew she was just playing it for the camera, but they both knew that when the time came, they would kill the other without hesitation. The kiss was Robin's way of apologizing, and returning Ichigo's sentiments.

It was simple, and it was a traditional Reaping. The crowd kept applauding.

It was boring, and Robin was desperate to get to training.

It was at that point that Wapol decided to eat the microphone.