ACT ONE, CHAPTER TWO
Everyone is Born with a Pure Heart
( Namo Guan Shi Yin Pusa )

RHIANNON'S EYES BORE INTO THE REFLECTION BEFORE HER, eyeing the crack in the glass that aligned perfectly with her right eye. It ran diagonally across the length of the wall-mounted mirror, and appeared as if a sharp blade entered through her jaw and punctured straight through her eyeball.

Her reflection ironically looked identical to how she felt. The nerves in her stomach overflowed into the adjacent vagus nerve, traveling up to her head. Half of Rhiannon's body weakened as soon as it hit her, the pain ultimately setting up shop behind her right optic.

Rhiannon was well aware that the amount of stress she was put under in such a short allotment of time was bound to result in the unbearable head pain. However, she was hoping that its onset would wait until after the reaping, so she could cover her bedroom window with a blanket and lie in bed until it passed.

Unfortunately, she didn't have that option. Citizens are only allowed to forego the reaping if they're on their deathbed or close to it, and as much as it felt like her brain would combust from underneath her skull at any moment, Rhiannon didn't qualify. Wai Po, on the other hand, did. She never truly recovered from having the flu all those years ago - it's a miracle she survived to begin with - and now, her remaining energy allows her to alternate between her and Rhiannon's shared bed and the flat, worn sofa in the living room, and the kitchen on rare occasions.

Since the Head Peacekeeper is particularly strict, if a citizen isn't present at the reaping, an entourage of Peacekeepers arrives at their door to ensure their poor health. Although Wai Po's still kicking, it doesn't take much effort to perform an "on my last legs" routine.

Currently, Wai Po was in the next room over, sitting on the edge of their bed, repeatedly chanting, "Namo Guan Shi Yin Pusa." It was the chant Wai Po saved for days like this, during which the family needed more protection than usual. It translated to, "everyone is born with a pure heart." Rhiannon, personally, begged to differ. From her youth, Rhiannon recalled when Wai Po tried to explain the original mantra's deeper meaning. She never truly understood it. Something about a lotus and a jewel, wisdom and skillful means.

While Rhiannon and Haymitch went to see Orville in the square, Mrs. Abernathy came over and brought Wai Po up to date regarding her son-in-law. When Rhiannon returned home and began to relay the news to Wai Po herself, the woman told her granddaughter that Mrs. Abernathy had already informed her and monitored her as she ate her breakfast. Then, Wai Po returned to their room and has been meditating ever since.

Refocusing on her own reflection, Rhiannon smoothed down the dress that she fished from her chipped dresser every year. A once vibrantly-colored dress with floral detailing whose inseam seemed to shrink with every passing year on Rhiannon's body. The natural rose color had faded into a dull blush, alongside the florals that were now almost invisible to the naked eye.

Rhiannon's eyes glanced down at her father's chest of drawers that stood beneath the mirror. When Eucommia was alive, Wai Po didn't allow the mirror to be hung in her and Orville's bedroom because it faced the bed, which, like the number four, symbolized bad luck. Following Eucommia's funeral, a drunken Orville hung the mirror above their shared dresser and Wai Po never spoke a word about it again.

Perhaps he should've listened, Rhiannon mused.

She picked up one of the framed photos sitting on top of the piece of furniture, an old photograph of her parents when they were younger. The bottom halves of their bodies were beneath the shot, but the top of Eucommia's bulging belly was just in view.

"Wai Sunnu," Wai Po called out, addressing Rhiannon by the same term their ancestors' used for their own granddaughters.

Rhiannon placed the picture frame back in its original position and briskly walked the few steps over into their room, initially worried that something was wrong, "What is it?"

Wai Po extended a hand and beckoned Rhiannon over, "Come. Sit." Rhiannon obeyed, sitting beside her grandmother on their bed. Wai Po held onto both of Rhiannon's hands and said, "Join me before you go." Rhiannon wordlessly nodded, repositioning her body so she was in the traditional position Wai Po taught her. After crossing her calves over one another, both feet lying on top of her thighs, Rhiannon glanced readily at Wai Po.

Together, they closed their eyes and began softly chanting, "Namo Guan Shi Yin Pusa... Namo Guan Shi Yin Pusa..." As much devotion as Wai Po performed on her own time, one person could only do so much. The synergy between Wai Po and Rhiannon would allow for the energy generated from chanting, qi, to be shared between them. Wai Po internally wished for the energy to shift towards Rhiannon, as she doubted her body could withstand the toll of losing another family member.

After each repetition, both women silently counted to themselves. Once they reached twenty one repetitions, Wai Po opened her eyes and gave Rhiannon's hands a gentle squeeze.

"Go," she instructed. "Don't need you to be late."

Rhiannon nodded, uncrossing her legs before leaning over to kiss Wai Po's cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too." Wai Po smiled sadly as Rhiannon left the room and exited the house through the front door. As she shut it behind her, Rhiannon noticed the Abernathys walking her way. While along the same road, their house was in the thick of the Seam while the Sis' was closer to the outskirts.

Mrs. Abernathy greeted her first, "Oh, sweetheart." Rhiannon accepted the woman's embrace. Unlike her son, whenever Mrs. Abernathy used the term of endearment, she meant it genuinely. In fact, Haymitch always believed that she overused it, hence his choice to interject it into his sarcastic comments.

"I'm so sorry about your father." Mrs. Abernathy pulled away, rubbing Rhiannon's arms in a comforting manner, "As if you and your family need any more to deal with today."

Rhiannon solemnly nodded, "Thank you." Mrs. Abernathy stepped backwards next to her younger son, wrapping a secure arm around his shoulders. He was just shy of eligibility at eleven years old, and Rhiannon knew for certain that Mrs. Abernathy was dreading the next reaping in which both her boys would be in the drawing.

In his mother's absence, Haymitch, now donned in his best attire, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Rhiannon's shoulders. Not that they were embarrassed of their feelings for one another, but Rhiannon nor Haymitch were too fond of public displays of affection. Even with solely Haymitch's family as spectators, normally, both of them would feel awkward. Now, under these dire circumstances, that wasn't either of their topmost concerns.

Both Rhiannon and Haymitch had more entries than the typical allotments in an exchange for tesserae, but Haymitch - whose family lacked a patriarch for many years - had far more than the average. At least he only had three mouths to field, unlike some children whose houses were busting at the seams with starving children, forced to take on an additional six or seven entries per year.

Still in their embrace, Rhiannon spoke into Haymitch's shoulder, "Nervous?"

He shrugged, "Nothing we can do about it, can we?" At her lack of a response, Haymitch pulled away to look into Rhiannon's eyes, "We'll be okay." Remembering their conversation not even a half-hour prior, he followed up with, "I promise." Rhiannon simply nodded.

Mrs. Abernathy released a deep sigh, "Well, I suppose we should get on, then." The four joined the rush of other Seam citizens making their way towards the square, appearing almost mechanically. Haymitch walked with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants, Rhiannon to his left with her arm looped around his, accepting it as a crutch. Mrs. Abernathy and Haymitch's brother trailed behind the couple, the former with a heavy weight in her stomach.

Once they reached the lines for check in, the Abernathys sent Haymitch off with one last hug and kiss before splitting off into the spectator area. Despite being surrounded by their neighbors, everyone was too focused on each other's family members that Rhiannon and Haymitch felt as if they were alone. Now, merely feet away from their respective sectors, the anxiety bubbling inside of Rhiannon was threatening to boil over. Eyeing the boys and girls getting their index fingers pricked and stamped, Rhiannon instinctively began pressing her thumb to each finger.

One, two, three, four - four, three, two, one - one, two, three, four -

Recognizing the nervous behavior, Haymitch interrupted her third repetition by pulling Rhiannon into another hug. She wrapped her arms underneath Haymitch's, hands landing on his shoulder blades. Rhiannon was afraid to let go. While Rhiannon wasn't exactly without worry during previous reapings, she was significantly less nervous than she was at the present moment. The knot in her stomach had only bound itself tighter, as did the corresponding pain behind her eye.

The voice of a nearby Peacekeeper broke them apart, ordering the lines of children to move along.

"We'll meet after?" Haymitch asked.

Rhiannon nodded, "Yeah. By the Mercers'." Before either one could say something else, they were pulled towards their respective boys' and girls' lines.

Haymitch yelled over the heads of the boys ushering him towards the check-in table, "I'll see you after!" Nausea quickly erupted within Rhiannon as she, too, was herded into a line and pricked and stamped in within seconds.

"Next," the woman said in a monotone. Rhiannon walked down the manmade aisle in search of any familiar faces to stand beside. She spotted her friend Ione Mercer, belonging to the aforementioned Mercer family who owns the produce store, standing alongside Maysilee Donner, Maysilee's sister, and Clara.

Rhiannon made her way through the crowd of twelve-to-eighteen-year-old girls until she made it to Ione's side, dimly addressing her, "Hey, Ione."

Ione immediately took upon a similar, mournful tone, "Oh, Rhiannon." Ione greeted her with a brief hug. "I'm sorry about Orville." She pulled away and tried to be somewhat upbeat, "Clara said she's seen worse...that's reassuring, right?" Rhiannon half-heartedly nodded. Trying to change the subject, but unfortunately left with limited choices, Ione glanced towards the stage of the Justice Building and visibly shivered, "I dread this day every year."

Rhiannon nodded in agreement, "Wai Po's been at it all morning, hopefully her streak lasts."

Ione nodded, a shadow of a smile on her face despite the circumstances, "Let's hope that protection goes for all of us." Within the crowdedness of their section, Rhiannon could faintly see Ione and Maysilee holding hands. Having been close friends since the first day of school, Rhiannon naturally knew about their relationship since its conception. They didn't flaunt it publicly within the district, however.

When the mayor came out onto the stage from inside the Justice Building, the minimal murmuring throughout the square diminished. After his brief introduction, he recited the history of the Treaty of Treason as he did every year. Most citizens zoned out during the mayor's unexciting monotone, Rhiannon included. All she could focus on was moving her fingers, repeating a word of Wai Po's chant in lieu of counting with every finger.

Namo, Guan, Shi, Yin - Pusa, Namo, Guan, Shi - Yin, Pusa, Namo, Guan - Shi, Yin, Pusa -

Rhiannon returned to the present moment when she heard the ridiculous Capitol accent belonging to none other than Hermes Talkalot, District 12's escort.

Per routine, he sang his greeting to the district, "Happy Hunger Games..." despite no one in the crowd in nearly as much of a jolly mood as he. "...and second Quarter Quell!" Hermes paused, awaiting applause, and was evidently disappointed when he received dead silence instead. He huffed, "Alright then. Since we're all so eager to begin..." As he straightened the gold headpiece atop his head that matched his calf-length dress, he quickly recovered from his momentary lapse of disappointment, "We have much excitement ahead of us! Instead of drawing two names, four will be picked! Double the tributes, double the fun!"

Again, dead silence - aside from the echo of a woman's weeping faintly heard in the square. Most likely the woman who had five eligible children in the crowd.

"Shall we begin?" Without waiting for any hint of a response, Hermes strode over to the girls' bowl and reached inside. The sound of his long, golden, claw-like nails scratching against the glass was caught by the nearby microphone, radiating through the speakers. He plucked a singular piece of paper, apparently deciding to lengthen the reaping by going one by one, and returned to his original position in front of the mic.

Namo, Guan, Shi, Yin - Pusa, Namo, Guan, Shi - Yin, Pusa, Namo, Guan - Shi, Yin, Pusa -

He unfolded the slip of paper and read the name aloud, "Maysilee Donner."

Rhiannon's eyes widened as she immediately looked towards the girl whose name was just announced, seeing Maysilee in a similar state of shock. Ione cried out, tears falling down her face within an instant. Maysilee's sister and Clara were crying on her other side, all three of the girls clutching onto Maysilee, as if she wouldn't be able to be taken if they clung to her hard enough.

Soon, a pair of Peacekeepers entered the crowd and shoved past girls of all ages in order to reach Maysilee. Not looking forward to being manhandled, Maysilee gently detached herself from her sister and friends, shot them a fleeting smile, and walked towards the aisle. Rhiannon offered a sympathetic glance as she passed by.

As Maysilee walked up the steps towards the stage, Rhiannon wrapped her arms around Ione, allowing her friend to rest her body weight against Rhiannon's frame. With Ione on her right, all of Rhiannon's bodyweight - plus Ione's - was teetering on Rhiannon's left leg. Her internal pleas of protection for her friends obviously didn't work, and as Hermes asked Maysilee a few shallow questions, all Rhiannon could think about was her name being called next.

It would be too fitting. The Sis' bad luck legacy was due for a life-altering event. Orville's earlier flogging was merely an opening act. If she were reaped, not only would Rhiannon have to fight against Maysilee - a friend - but who's to say she would even make it through the bloodbath?

Rhiannon's fingers flinched towards themselves, eager to continue their routine. As Rhiannon's attention was divided amongst comforting Ione, ensuring her knee didn't buckle, and biting the inside of her cheek in the same four-beat rhythm, the second girl's name was announced. Upon realization of a lack of movement within the crowd, Rhiannon's blood ran cold.

It's me, Rhiannon thought to herself. It had to have been me. Why else is no one else moving? Rhiannon's left foot slipped, but she caught herself before both she and Ione went tumbling. She flinched as the pain behind her eye suddenly transitioned into a stabbing sensation. Her eyelid forced itself closed, Rhiannon able to sense a dizzy spell on the horizon. No, no, no. Ione's weight suddenly became thrice as heavy. Rhiannon had to adjust her footing once again. Her fingers burned, pleaded -

Suddenly, Rhiannon noticed movement within the crowd before her. A small, thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl took a spot beside Maysilee on the stage, answering the same questions she was asked moments prior. As if a physical weight had been lifted off of her, Rhiannon exhaled. If not for the similar sighs of relief from surrounding girls, Rhiannon surely would have attracted stares - probably even dirty looks.

Rhiannon adjusted her posture once more, finally able to get into proper positioning. The brief release of adrenaline gave her enough relief from the pain and compulsions for the few moments before the second pair of tributes were reaped.

Hermes conducted the same routine for the boys, the first male tribute's name belonging to the large family with five children. The aforementioned woman's banshee wails were so loud that Rhiannon figured those in the neighboring districts could hear them too. The boy was towards the back of the crowd, meaning he was either seventeen or eighteen years old. Most likely, he had taken out the most tesserae for his parents, brothers, and sisters.

As distraught as she was about Maysilee being reaped and the Games themselves, the tension in Rhiannon's muscles relaxed somewhat, believed to have gotten through the worst of it.

Her relief was premature.

Hermes took his sweet time plucking out the final name to be read, walking over to the microphone at an even more painfully slow pace. With a wide grin on his face, Hermes announced, "And the honor of being District 12's final tribute goes to...

"...Haymitch Abernathy."

Rhiannon audibly gasped as, within seconds, her lungs became devoid of oxygen. Her arms fell from around Ione as her own body threatened to collapse, Ione quickly reversing roles and clutching onto Rhiannon in order to hold her upright. All the pain returned, tenfold. The entire right side of her body fell limp, Ione nearly crumbling underneath the dead weight. Rhiannon was convinced her entrails were about to burst through her abdomen. Her right eye's vision went black. Bile rose in her throat. Her fingers began throbbing.

Rhiannon clung onto Ione's arms lying across her chest as she desperately searched for Haymitch in the crowd, watching him emotionlessly make his way to the aisle and towards the stage. Rhiannon took in Haymitch's stature, analyzing him as if it were the last time she'd ever see him.

The dark hair. The Seam eyes. A stoic expression that few people managed to break. His yellowing, once-white button-down shirt tucked into his trousers that ended above his faded argyle sock-covered ankles. Rhiannon couldn't imagine how Mrs. Abernathy was feeling, her worst fear coming into existence.

Hermes made his final remarks, the tributes shook hands, and the citizens were dismissed from the square. Rhiannon and Ione stayed still in their spots as their relieved neighbors filed out from around them.

Ione, currently the more stable of the two, told Rhiannon, "C'mon, let's go inside." Arms wrapped around Rhiannon's shoulders, Ione led as they walked up the steps of the Justice Building their loved ones had done mere minutes prior, Maysilee's sister and Clara trailing behind.

Mrs. Abernathy and Haymitch's brother were already in the Justice Building, and were allowed inside the room Haymitch was being held in right as Rhiannon and Ione entered. Two Peacekeepers strode over to the girls, one taking Maysilee's visitors and the other remaining beside Rhiannon.

"Wait here," they said, gesturing towards a wooden bench built in between two mahogany bookcases that Rhiannon nearly collapsed on top of. She had never seen the inside of the Justice Building before. It was full of expensive, ornate furniture and decor from floor to ceiling. In Rhiannon's opinion, it was far too beautiful to be associated with dingy, coal dust-laden District 12.

After their allotted time together ended, Peacekeepers entered the room and soon after, Mrs. Abernathy and her youngest were ushered out while in tears. Rhiannon stood, finally regaining some strength in her legs, sending both an empathetic glance before entering the room Haymitch was being kept in.

Inside, his back was facing her as he looked out the window, holding back the heavy curtain in order to get one last look at the square. Despite the bad memories it harbored - from this very day, especially - District 12 was still the only home he knew. That he would ever know.

Haymitch turned around once he heard another presence enter the room, and crossed the space in two long strides before encircling Rhiannon with his arms, clinging onto her like a lifeline. She wrapped her arms around his neck and collapsed into his embrace, Haymitch's frame miraculously strong enough to hold the both of them.

Haymitch was a naturally muted person. He didn't publicly display much emotion, but that was a result of being hardened from living a fatherless childhood in the Seam. Rhiannon only noticed him expressing any kind of emotion either with her or his family, but she could feel his torso shaking against her own with silent sobs.

Rhiannon's body had been in too much shock to cry. Now, however, her eyes were already numb from the stinging as her cheeks became decorated with tears. Remembering that they had a time limit, Rhiannon forced herself to pull her face away enough to lean her forehead against his.

Hands on either side of his face, to ground him as much as herself, she spoke between small gasps, "You're going to be fine, okay? You're going to be okay." She internally winced at her lackluster motivation. "You're tougher than them. Smarter than them. You'll figure something out."

Haymitch shook his head, "Rhi..." Rhiannon pulled her body away, feeling anger rise within her at his sudden lack of confidence.

"Haymitch - stop that. You can do it, I know you can. You're a quick learner - you're underestimating yourself." A beat passed between them before Haymitch reached into his pocket, pulling out a golden necklace. Rhiannon eyed it with uncertainty, unable to find a correlation between the Hunger Games and gifts - at least, gifts given by the tribute.

"I meant to give you this...it's my mother's," he began, avoiding eye contact. "...I was going to give it to you after the reaping, but obviously there's been a little wrinkle."

As he grabbed onto Rhiannon's hand to place the necklace inside, she shook her head, confused as to where this sentimental Haymitch was coming from, now of all times and places, "No, Haymitch, you're meant to take a token of home with you." She folded his fingers around the necklace, "Take a piece of your mother with you. To remind you of who you're fighting for - "

Haymitch shook his head, "No, Rhi, I want you to have it -"

"Haymitch -"

"Dammit, Rhiannon, just take the necklace!" His head snapped up from his focus on the ground, his bloodshot, teary eyes on full display to Rhiannon. "I'm the one going off to die - listen to me! Take the damn thing!" They stared at one another, anger-laced chests rising and falling.

He recovered from his lapse in self-control, exhaling a pent-up sigh, "Please, Rhiannon." Realizing how much this meant to him, Rhiannon held out her hand for Haymitch to place the necklace in. Upon closer inspection, she noticed a cherub pendant hanging from the dainty chain. Presumably an ancestor's religious heirloom that's survived through the generations.

Rhiannon clutched the necklace tightly in her hand before assuming their previous position, touching their foreheads together so that he had no choice but to look at her, "Haymitch..." His eyes flickered back up from the floor, focusing on her own. Rhiannon shook her head as if her next words were the simplest instruction, when in reality, it was infinitely easier said than done.

"All you have to do is stay alive."

Rhiannon noticed something shift within Haymitch's eyes, their flecks of silver flickering in the midmorning sun. Without warning, Peacekeepers barged into the room and announced that their time together was over. Panicked, Rhiannon suddenly crashed her lips against his, grabbing onto Haymitch's arms as tight as she could. Haymitch returned the kiss just as quickly, a millisecond of affection shared between them before Peacekeepers intervened.

They grabbed onto either one of Rhiannon's arms and began dragging her out of the room without so much as a glance in Haymitch's direction. Rhiannon dug her heels into the ground, gaining enough traction on the oriental carpet to buy her an extra second or two.

"Just stay alive, Haymitch!" She called out, their eye contact unwavering. Fearful that she would never get the chance to tell him, Rhiannon cried out, "I love you - !"

The mahogany doors slammed shut before Rhiannon even finished speaking. She was unsure if Haymitch heard the entire phrase, but she knew that he had understood her final words to him. Over the three years they've grown close to one another, Rhiannon and Haymitch only pursued their romantic feelings over the past six months. It made sense then, that Rhiannon's anxiety over this year's reaping raged like a feral animal. Within that time frame, neither of them had verbally expressed their love for one another. To be fair, neither of them were particularly fond of many words to begin with. Instead, they showed their love through actions.

Haymitch wordlessly shedding his jacket onto Rhiannon's shoulders when outside during the colder months. Rhiannon patching up the holes in Haymitch's worn-out clothes, even combining different articles to make a two-sizes-too-small item fit his growing figure with the few tailoring skills she acquired from her mother. Being able to read each other's body language so clearly that they often didn't need to speak aloud. Just being in each other's presence brought a sense of comfort.

Rhiannon was eventually led out of the Justice Building altogether and thrown into the mass of citizens going towards the train station, ultimately joining the crowd forming around the platform. Everyone watched as four of their own would be sent off to the arena, predicting an unlikely homecoming. Haymitch, the last tribute to enter, glanced over his shoulder one last time. As if they were connected on some biological level, Haymitch's eyes immediately found Rhiannon's in the crowd. Without breaking contact, he stepped onto the train car and the door slid shut before him.

Rhiannon clutched onto the necklace as she, along with everyone else, watched as the train left the station and began its ill-fated journey to the Capitol.

He promised, Rhiannon reminded herself. He promised that he would be okay. While Haymitch wasn't certain if his words would be fulfilled, Rhiannon clung onto every ounce of hope within her soul that they were.

😳🫣

phew that was a doozy and a half. ik we all knew rhi wasn't going to get reaped (i wanted to not put that in the summary to keep some suspense but yk...summaries are hard to write as it is and the only one i was happy with is the one i published so...gotta pick your battles) but, like, while i was rereading this to edit even my heart rate was getting a little ❤️‍🔥💥❤️‍🔥💥

on a diff note, while panem is portrayed as a secular country, i believe that there were SOME remnants of religion/culture in it. obviously, it's only from what's passed through the generations, so it's like the bare bare minimum. for example, the namo guan shi yin pusa mantra is (from what i understand) the most popular/central mantra in chinese buddhism and thus something that i believe would have been passed down. the cherub necklace is a reference to christianity, the largest (i'm pretty sure?) religion in the world that surely would have made it into panem somehow. religion/culture isn't going to be as big of an aspect in the book as we continue (if you would even consider it to be a big one now...? which i don't really lol) but, since i'm using chinese fcs (natasha + gemma) i wanted to show what i think chinese culture looks like in the age of panem, primarily through chinese buddhism since it's one the most popular religions in present-day china

thanks for reading 🫂💋