Chapter Text
"The male tribute from district nine for the 72nd god's menu is Christopher Chan Bang"
"There is no mentor. The last died six years ago, the capitol will send someone once we arrive"
"The two of you are weak it isn't as if I could help you anyways but we need canon fodder for district one and two"
"I love someone"
"Say Chan is there someone waiting for you at home? – yeah, that's why I'll win. I want to go back and live my life with them. – Chan, just between the two of us, I'm sure you will win in both ways"
"please, please don't kill me."
"I won't go home inside a coffin."
"The winner of the 72nd god's menu is Christopher Chan Bang"
"So what did you feel when you realised that you are the last man standing? – I can't describe it properly but the most I felt was fatigue from the previous fight and relief that I can go back home as a winner. My family and I are now blessed through the capitol, as well as future tributes of district nine to now having a mentor. – ah you're so humble. Nobody besides myself of course thought that you could do it! Chan, I mean it, your fighting and survival sense were incredible! The last time we saw such a perfect winner and tribute was a while and now you even have a really cool and edgy scar to remember your talents, your beloved will marry you instantly."
"I hate myself."
-
Reaping day never gets easier, not for Chan or any mentor to speak of generally. As a so-called 'Victor' you don't get out of the never ending misery of murder, death, hate and destruction. No, they had to teach how to do it, how to ignore morals and to watch children die for the rest of their lives. He himself was a child, killed eight other children at the age of 18 under the premise of peace in an arena and now two years later Chan helplessly watched two children, under his care, getting killed by other children - would've to until he dies. Jisuk the boy from last year was twelve and the girl Ara 14, they didn't stand a chance, he tried to train them but who could expect a fresh winner and traumatized teenager to get one of two malnourished kids out of this hellhole. Both of them died on the first day, like most of district nine's tributes.
The youngest that ever won was 14, five years in the past and to be honest nobody wanted a Victor younger than 16 anyways. That boy, Lee Know or something similar, was a handsome but too young guy to do what the capitol wanted from the pretty survivors. Because apparently even if they watch them die for entertainment, they had enough human decency to wait until they were are a certain age to do certain things with them.
Chan wasn't ready to face the reaping and the camera team that came with it. He wanted to curl up and pray for the next 23 murdered children, the next traumatized Victor, himself and his fellow Winners - not that it helped anyway. Even so, he had to do his job, he promised himself to get as many out of the arena as possible from his own district. If he failed Chan wanted them to feel as good as they could under the circumstances. They should know that it wasn't their fault to get reaped, that he would try anything for them, that he would never ever forget their names and would help their families.
Breathe, breathe, they need you. In and out. You never have to kill anymore. Just this year and one beloved name can't be picked anymore.
He just wished his mantra would help him more. He never has to kill again, that was true but he still was part of a killing cycle.
One name he didn't had to fear getting reaped after today. It was his beloved last reaping. If everything goes like Chan wanted they could finally let the real truth come out. Since knowing him he made sure that nothing could hurt his loved one, Chan stole, picked fights and gave all the money he needed just so that his boyfriend didn't had to worry about anything. Math wasn't his strong suit but Chan knew the probability was extremely low for his boyfriend to get picked in his last year.
After this year's God's menu Chan could marry him as they planned. They could live together with their families because then it wouldn't be against the rules of their government about the Victor's housing.
There was still a second name to worry about for the next three years, though. Nothing was ever easy in Panem.
Forced calmness and detachment, that was his job. He had to do his job and be in the city hall in twenty minutes for the camera and makeup team. Maybe he could convince his chief stylist, Felix, to get rid of the purple hair but Chan had a feeling that he would just waste air. Felix loved purple and was very determined that it was quote: "The best colour to match your vibe, Channie, trust me. Oh and it goes really well with your scar!"
At least Felix was nice to be around with, something rare for a capitol citizen.
---
As predicted Chan still had purple hair, his scar was as prominent as ever and apparently smokey eyes were the trend of the capitol. The stylist and Chan by default couldn't sit it out because 'your face was sculpted by god himself'. He wasn't sure what that eye makeup had to do with a sculpting god but whatever.
Ten minutes and the horror would start. Hopefully he won't puke as soon as the cameras were away from him like he did last year. The spectacle started an hour ago for Chan since he had to film behind the scene footage. Capitol citizens loved their winners and couldn't get enough of them, so they sat in front of their TV to watch him and the others get ready for the reaping ceremony.
Totally normal behaviour for people he didn't know but they probably watched him murder eight kids and worshipped the ground he walked on. Because of it not despise it. A little dressing up wasn't anything for them.
"Hello Christopher, pardon me for bothering you but I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Seungmin the new escort for district nine," the newcomer held out his hand for a friendly shake. Chan really was a nice guy but he didn't want to speak with this Seungmin just for smiling on this day in particular. How could he smile at Chan's face when he knew what came, when he got paid to pick a name out of a bowl and send a literal child into their doom.
In and out, breathe. Seungmin was a young guy not older than himself, born in the capitol. This puppy-like boy didn't understand what Chan lived through, came from the capitol where they brainwash all kids into believing this was right. He shook the soft hands of the reaper.
"Call me Chan, we have to work together for a while so drop this Christopher stuff, it gives me the creeps," he said out of goodwill and professionalism. Most people assume it was because he felt old or that he wanted to seem approachable. He wanted them to think like that but in reality, he felt like he had to go back into the arena whenever someone said his full name in front of him. The only person who would say his full name was his mother and she used it for making him do chores.
"Okay Chan," Seungmin tested out his name while looking at the clock. "We have to go. First the mayor, you and lastly me."
Happy God's menu and may the odds be ever in your favour.
---
Standing on a podium overseeing everyone was always an alien thing for Chan, it seems. He hadn't done it often but it looked like he was being more important than the others in his district, his home. Chan assumed he stuck out like a sore thumb, more than usual on this platform but Seungmin was doing a great job in being prominent with these red colored bangs and an all white suit.
How this guy managed to not get dirty, everything here full of grain, was a mystery to Chan.
Chan watched out for two faces in-between the mass of children and waiting parents. They probably stood together, since his reaping they wouldn't part to go into their age section.
"Welcome to the 74th annual God's menu. Before we begin there is a short film from our President himself just for you to enjoy," Seungmin said and Chan had to endure a tirade of dumbness like every year, it was a wonder he never rolled his eyes.
No war could justify 74 years of killing children for sport and entertainment.
"Hach, always a pleasure am I right? As tradition tells us, ladies first!"
Seungmin grabbed into the bowl as if he would get a little present out of it. He also had a job to do, Chan reminded himself. It wasn't Seungmins fault, if not him some other would stand here.
Now that the boy in white, without stains, had the paper in his hands he opened it while speaking: "The female tribute for district nine is Kang Hana, come here we don't bite."
Yeah, we won't bite but the other tributes would. Chan didn't know Hana, now that she stood beside Seungmin he looks at her. She looked fragile, one of the many malnourished people in this and every other district, probably 15 years old and she was crying. He understood, two years ago he wanted to cry himself but didn't for his family and not looking pathetic for the cameras, he bit it back and cried inside the train for the first time.
"And now to the boys."
Not them. Not them. Not them.
Please, please, please.
"Bang Jeongin!"
Chan's little brother. No. Innie's name was in this bowl four times. How? This couldn't be real, there were thousands of little papers inside this bowl!
He couldn't be expected to mentor his own little brother, right? Why were the odds never in his family's favor?
Chan's heart broke, he could hear it and he was sure the entire district heard it too. The entire nation of Panem could hear it, see it. Jeongin was supposed to never set foot into the capitol to stay morally intact.
He watched with horror on his face how his little Brother's eyes widened now that the mass of boys cleared the way around him. How Jeongin gulped, nodded to his future brother-in-law who stood beside him dumbfounded. It happened again.
"No!"
There was commotion, the peacekeepers started to move but Chan could only look to the middle of the aisle. His boyfriend of three years held Jeongin like a lifeline, like nobody could take him away.
"I'll make this right," Hyunjin said "I volunteer as tribute."