Sometimes I wonder why am I even here. Sometimes I’d like to ask them, ‘why did you choose me.’ Because first of all, who else. Who else has worked so hard, dedicated their time, life, and soul to serve you as much as we did. And you show your gratitude to us by doing this?

Of course.

I’m doing it for him, from now on. I’m doing everything for him.

Can you believe it? My last chance of showing respect to my father and I have to do it here.

_ _ _ _ _

“I’ll give you two tubs of oil for that.”

“Oh, come on now Jae, can’t you see? This thing is worth three!”

The fish market was bustling with life this early in the morning. Errand kids running around to do the biddings of the government officials. Mothers, trying to score the bargain of the day. Big cargo trucks coming in for their daily haul of fresh captures to send to the Capitol. And then there was Yeobi, her damp hair pulled back into a tight braid, salt crystals speckling across her flushed cheeks, and a small sack filled to the brim with scallops in her hands.

Jae, the owner of the store that she was haggling with, took one last look into the sack and gave her a deep sigh,” it’s fresh, right?”

“Of course it is. You know us.”

Yeobi only allowed the victorious smirk to appear on her face once the three tubs of oil were secured in her possession and she was walking out of Jae’s general store into the hustling market street.

They were fresh, freshly thawed from the freezer.

She glanced at the last sack hanging on her hips, where the truly fresh scallops were hidden and decided that it was time to go to the fancier part of the town to get the bulk of her fortune for that day. Because at least they could distinguish between good and bad produce.

Besides, if they developed a rash due to bad quality seashell, she couldn’t blame it on the ty quality of the commoner’s tap water. Their doctors will instantly point at her family and say, "those are the culprit". (Unlike the doctors working in the slums who’ll just mumble something about ‘bacteria in the water’ and prescribe painkillers. Always painkillers)

“Yeobi!”

She heard that familiar voice, and that familiar water clogged boots clopping against the cobblestone road and Yeobi had to try her best to not roll her eyes in disdain. Instead, she turned around to face the young boy, two years younger than her, and gave him a bright smile.

She didn’t have to smile to leave him hopelessly smitten. Just the sight of her braid swishing in the morning air was enough for him to momentarily stop in his tracks. But Yeobi is not someone that will turn away the chance to do an overkill, and so she smiled.

“Good morning Bomin.”

He stopped his jog and gradually turned it down to a speed walk so he could reach her side, “are you going to the town square?”

Even though sometimes she would compare his presence to flies around days old, starting-to-rot fish, Yeobi couldn’t help but crack out a few genuine smiles when she heard that adorable lisp sneak out of his voice.

“Yes I am. Wanna come with me?” It was a question she didn’t have to ask. His wild, salt coated hair bounce in the air as the puffs of his breath disappear in the warming rays of sun.

It was a good idea too. Those bourgeois-es love him like crazy. His tiny stature, standing only up to Yeobi’s shoulder. And his snaggle tooth. And his wide, youthful looking eyes. A much needed break in this week-long reaping festivities.

She should probably make him her mascot. Imagine the profit she’ll rack up.

Bomin suddenly broke the lull of their walk through the deserted streets with what he must’ve thought was a well meaning question. Little did he know, it was not.

“How’s Jibum? I haven’t seen him for a while.”

She almost let her glass mask crack when the pang of worry hit across her face. Little Jibum hiding under the covers because of his paranoia. Of his ‘what if they can see me’ and fearing that the government is spying on him.

“He’s fine,” she managed to answer. And seemingly it was good enough for Bomin as he instantly went back to kicking gravels and picking weeds from the cracks in the stones.

She wondered how when compared to her brother, he could be this calm in the face of uncertain doom.

Maybe they’re already used to it.

_ _ _ _ _

Joshua has been fishing since he was five. Maybe even earlier. But his first memory was that of him and his father, on a boat, reeling in a mackarel who turned out to be bigger than him, laughing their hearts off.

Joshua has been fishing all his life and never, not once, did he ever fail to reel in a catch.

Until that very trip.

Not only that. He’d failed twice already before his third blunder.

He could feel the eyes of his father occasionally glancing towards him. He knew he was worried. But as nobody would start the conversation, they only sat on the boat in silence. A very awkward silence.

“You can take a rest, I’ll man the boat.”

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Joshua wanted to work even harder. Ask him to start cleaning the control room, ask him to fix the netting, something. Anything to take his mind out of the ‘reaping’ (or whatever they decided to call it this time) that will happen in less than a week. The last thing he wanted to do was be alone with his thought.

“Nah, I’m good.”

And just like that. Another stretch of silence. Only the sound of waves rumbling around them as the only mean to stop them from growing crazy by the weight of the atmosphere.

But in the end, one of them gave up. Not able to take any more seconds of suffocating air in the otherwise cloudless night. A shaking hand placed on one’s shoulder like a begging for them to just please, let’s get it over with.

“I’m sorry.”

He never saw his father cry. Until that very trip.

“I couldn’t stop them.”

“Stop them from wha-,” his own question was cut short when the answer came to his mind. Clear as day. And suddenly everything makes sense.

He was still trying to digest the revelation when his father pulled him in for a hug. A hug that someone would give you if they knew you’ll go away very, very soon.

Should he be angry? Should he be upset? Should he be devastated? And then the wind came and blew the emotional commotion from his mind and he was left with nothingness. Numb. Disbelieve.

Joshua knew something was up after her father came back from the council meeting after the ‘quarter quell’ thing’s announcement. But he thought he was just being distraught over the premise of this year’s game.

He never figured out he was being distraught because he had to live with the fact that his son was in contention to be a tribute in the games.

Until that very trip.