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The Odds

By Renate


The Odds

I don't own Hunter x Hunter or Hunger Games, nor do I own the cover image.

This also kind of requires that there be a slight alteration to the rules of the reaping, which is that two kids of the same gender can be chosen, and anyone can volunteer for anyone of the opposite gender.

Though, obviously, if you've already been chosen you can't volunteer and if you're drawn again they just re-draw.


Both Gon and I quickly scale a tree, me going first. This is where we will spend the night until it's safer in the morning. Even if I know I can protect Gon, I won't take any risks with his life.

Gon is close after me, his natural affinity for nature has had him climbing trees for the majority of his childhood life, especially when we used to sneak into the forest together and play as little kids.

I perch myself on one of the lower branches before reaching down and helping Gon the last foot up the trunk of the tree.

I'm sure all the cameras are trained on us. Our little sad story was the speak of the whole capitol before the games started.

The best friends, the best friends who'll have to either kill each other, or watch each other die.

I won't let Gon be the one to die. Gon will be the one to go home.

I'll stab myself in the heart if it means Gon will get to go home.

Gon ends up further away from the trunk of the tree with his back to the leaves and his face towards me.

His big brown eyes are missing their usual happy glow. The blood staining his tribute getup is the most likely reason. That and the bloody knife tucked into his belt.

I've killed three other tributes so far. The 17-year-old girl from District 6, the 14-year-old boy from District 11, and the 18-year-old boy from District 2.

Gon killed the 16-year-old girl from District 4, who was sneaking up on me with an axe.

He had cried for me to look out, but I was too slow. And he saved my life.

I should've been the one to kill her. Not Gon.

Gon's never killed anything before.

"Killua." He speaks up.

"Yeah." I reply.

"Only one of us is going home. Only one of us can go home." He states.

"I know."

"I want it to be you." He says.

"No. It's gonna be you." I reply as if there's no way it's subject to change.

"But I couldn't go home without you Killua." He says.

"And my family doesn't care about me. Your family needs and loves you Gon. You're going home. I'm getting you home." I reply.

"Your family does lo..." He suddenly stops talking and his eyes widen in what appears to be shock.

"Gon?" I ask.

"Kill-" He can't even finish my name before his perch on the branch slips and he begins his fall towards the ground.

"GON!" I shout, reaching after him.

His limp body hits the ground and a large cracking sound resonates through the air, and a canon sounds.

A canon for Gon.

I let out a cry of rage.

Within seconds I'm on the ground in front of the tall 18-year-old girl from District 7, my knife piercing her heart. Then another canon sounds for the girl whose blood drenches my hands.

I walk back to Gon's body. I gently turn him over and pull the knife out of his back before lying back on his back.

I look into his eyes one last time, now empty and hollow. Missing the bright, fun-loving, happy kid I've been close to since we were both 7-years-old. 8 years.

And I couldn't save him.

I carefully close his eyes, and I try to pretend he's sleeping as I let myself cry.

I let myself cry for the cameras, so the members of the capitol will feel pity for the death of my friend.

I cry for Mito-san, whose nephew's dead body lies before me.

I cry for Kurapika and Leorio, who have been friends with Gon for even longer than I have.

And I cry for Gon, who will never have a chance at a better life.

All because of the capitol.

Effie Trinket reaches into the giant glass jar containing the names of every single child in District 12.

She slowly pulls out a single slip of paper and unfolds it even more slowly, obviously in an attempt to create tension.

"KILLUA ZOLDYCK!" She shouts my name into the crowd.

I'm not shocked. Nor am I unsurprised. My family is fairly wealthy compared to others in District 12. No need for me to get a tessera, but at 15, my name is in the jar about 8 times.

"KILLUA ZOLDYCK?" She demands again, and I step forwards. I glance back at my family.

My horrible mother is blowing her nose in a tissue, obviously faking sadness.

But my baby sister, Alluka, who's clutching my mother's hand, seems to be legitimately preparing to cry.

I send her a small smile in an attempt to comfort her slightly, though it doesn't work. She just seems to want to cry more.

I climb the steps onto the stage.

Effie Trinket then returns to the jar and repeats the process.

Once she unfolds the paper, she hesitates to recite the name even more.

"GON FREECSS!" She shouts.

Oh. My. God.

How is this even possible?

I mean, Gon's being chosen is more likely than my being chosen, his family is quite poor and he's had to get a few tessera, which has caused more and more slips of paper with his name on them to be placed in the jar.

But what are the odds of both of us being picked?

But it doesn't matter.

Because if both Gon and I are going into the Hunger Games,

I know I'm not coming home.

When I exit the train back from the capitol, Alluka immediately launches herself into my arms. She cries into my shirt.

"Onii-chan! Onii-chan! I was so worried Onii-chan!" She says.

"I'm back Alluka. Onii-chan's here." I whisper back, wrapping my own arms around her.

"Pat my head Killua." She asks.

"Of course, Something." I reply, proceeding to pat her head.

"I love Killua."

"I missed Killua."

"I missed you Onii-chan!"

I smile sadly and only slightly.

"Onii-chan missed you too Alluka."

The END!


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