The First of Many {Ikaia series of one-shots}

Rays of sunlight glistened through the shattered window in the front of the house filling it with light as a new day begun. Ikaia remained on the floor holding his Ma in his lap stroking her hair keeping it out of her face, and also to serve as a reminder that he was still there. She's so weak and delicate especially since one of her sons was sent away to the Capitol for a battle of life or death. Where it's kill or be killed. Ikaia remembers what happened to her the moment the news returned home of Pa dying. The way she stopped doing things she normally did. The way she fell so easily, and then the sickness hit. A broken heart. It's hard to keep a broken heart beating, yet with the help of Kirito, she's still alive. Now he was gone leaving the struggling teenager to deal with it all himself. Ikaia had no idea how he would work and take care of Ma. His only hope was for Kirito to return home alive.

Slowly, his hands slid beneath her body, and he lifted her from the dirt covered floor and placed her on the rugged couch. Holes ate through its surface. Dirt covered it, yet it was all he had. All he could do at this very moment. Ikaia felt like a robot. His brain working against his will moving his body in every direction. His mind constantly hazy as a fog formed inside his brain. Heavy eyes stared at the woman on the couch wondering how much more the fragile body could take before collapsing beneath the weight of the world so worms could feast. It was horrible. Every second, but soon he turned away from her and headed towards the kitchen forcing his brain to remember the instructions left behind by his dearest brother. Purple and red, but what are they for? Which ones in the morning and night? Red? Purple? His mind fought with himself over and over trying to remember the sweet words his twin spoke into life just moments before Ikaia was taken away from his brother for what may be the last time he'd see him alive. Yeah. Red and nectar. That's the instructions. At least, he hoped.

Removing a bunch of red plants from a bowl, he slowly smashed them together hoping he was doing it right. Mixing everything together even as the nectar was binding with the ingredients. It was hopeless. Ikaia knew he wouldn't ever be as good as Kirito, and he wouldn't ever fix Ma the way he did. His heart shattered into millions of pieces over and over each time the thought of his brother passed rapidly through his mind. Never in his entire life had he been separated from his brother, and last night was the first, and truthfully it wouldn't ever get better. A gentle breeze flew through the broken windows howling from room to room as he finished mashing it all together. When he turned towards the couch, his Ma rested easily. Almost peaceful. Ikaia didn't want to disturb her, but what option did he have?

She fought against him as he placed a hand on her shoulder trying to wake her up. Listening to her begging and grumbling only forced her son to work harder. It wasn't much, yet it had to be done. He gently leaned her head back resting it on his arm. Tilting the bowl to her lips allowing the thick substance to drain into her mouth. Ikaia was careful to move slow because choking her wasn't something on his mind. Once it was all done, he kept his head behind her head doing everything he could to make sure it slid down her throat without any problems. And then he walked away.

Ikaia journeyed though the ran down house. Dust flew through the air with every step he took, but when his foot slammed against the reaping chest left in the middle of the floor, his heart sunk to the pits of his stomach. His reaping outfit was destroyed. Trashed from all the dirt and grime plastered against it from sitting in the floor all night long. Slowly he lifted the lid off the chest remembering the journal Kirito had mentioned the day before. Tears threatened to form a waterfall as he dug through the clothing until he found the journal covered in dust. Blowing against the cover to dust it off, he only expected that this was exactly what his twin was talking about. Ikaia sat cross-legged on the floor and opened the top of it.

Journal Entry one,
So, um, I don' really know what to write. My Pa gave me this when he told me that it was a place I could trust all my feelins' howeva all I am feelin' is bad and sad. I miss Pa so much, he neva got to say good bye to me. Now I have only Ikaia and Ma, which I do love. I do really love Ikaia and I am so glad he is strong enough for the both of us since I am so weak. Well um I know this is sort but I promise to write more lata on. I just... I just a
need some time to be with my family.~ Kirito

The day Pa died was one of the worse days ever. Ikaia wouldn't ever forget the pain surging through his body when he saw him on the ground as peacekeepers carried his fragile body away. He wouldn't ever forget the tears streaming down his face as he hugged his twin brother tight in his arms. It was a horrible feeling. Especially when Ma found out. The day Pa died was the day Ikaia grew up becoming the man if the house. Taking control. Making sure his family was safe, but now he failed. He failed to protect his twin brother. The journal slides out of his hands landing on the floor in front of him. It was in that money the boy realized how much this book meant to Kirito. Tears flow down his face. Howls fill the room.

Kirito had to come home. He needed to return to the twin brother waiting for him because without him Ikaia was nothing. Just a person walking around controlled by strings the Capitol placed on him. Without Kirito, Ikaia was better off dead.

A heart hammered rapidly behind the chest of a sweaty boy as he stared at the huge screen in the district square. People were gathering around. All of them prepared to watch as the games started. Only one tribute resided from district eleven, and that one tribute was the twin brother to Ikaia. His eyes filled with tears as the plates slowly rose into view. All he could do was stare at his brother begging him to run. Begging him to return home to him. None of it made sense. Time was frozen. Nobody said a word as the timer counted down, and not long after all of them ran towards the cornucopia.

His eyes wide as he watched his brother moving through the people. Fighting. Gathering items. It was almost impossible knowing how close he was to death. Knowing that every decision his twin made from here on was crucial if he wanted to survive. Tiny hands shook at his side as tear filled eyes stayed on the screen. It's been such a long time since he last saw his brother. Since they last embraced on the dreaded reaping day. His body longed for the connection of his brother. Longed to cuddle him. To hold him. To tell him a story. To give him the scraps of food left on the table. Kirito was a gentle man. One who wouldn't harm anyone, but here he is standing in the middle of a bloodthirsty crowd as weapons clash around him.

Ikaia wasn't sure what to do. What to think as strikes landed on him. Strike after strike. His brother was being attacked. Beaten alive for all of them fighting for the same will. Not a single person in the games wanted to die except maybe those who volunteered. His eyes followed the screen keeping his gaze fixed on his brother. Watching him. Making sure that nobody hurt him. That nobody killed him because in the end Kirito was a fighter. He had to find a reason to come home. To fight. To reunite with the broken twin. Sweat poured from his brow mixing with the tears streaming from his eyes. Nobody understood the agony flying throughout his body, and not a single person cared.

He saw her limp body fall to the ground. His mouth dropped far to the ground as his gaze slowly turned to the tribute standing above her. Sure, Ikaia had watched people die in the hunger games. Sure he watched people kill everyone, yet the moment his eyes rested on his twin brother standing above the corps, he collapsed. Violent sobs flew from his mouth. It's a horrible feeling knowing what the Capitol has done to him. That the Capitol turned the gentle healer into a brutal murderer. Families of the fallen girl will call his name. They'll want his blood to spill onto the ground below him. They'll want him to return home in a box, cold, stiff, prepped for burial.

Terror fled his veins. His face turned a ghostly pale as the blood rushed from his body. The tips of his fingers tingled. All of it. Hurting. His heart crushed like a hopeless bug laying on the road. None of this should've happened. Ikaia shouldn't be standing in front of the big screen in the district square watching tribute after tribute attacking his twin brother. The only person he ever cared for was a puppet owned by the Capitol. But wasn't everyone? Every citizen in the districts? Did it truly matter that twenty-three puppets would die before the week was over? No! The Capitol wanted them dead. They wanted every single one of them dead, and if Kirito died, Ikaia had no reason left to live. The thought of him returning home in a box crushed the teenage boy beyond belief. He couldn't live without him. He couldn't think. His body has turned into a robot.The movements belonging to someone else, yet his heart, and his lungs still kept him alive.

And then he saw him running. Blood stained his body, and a tiny bit of hope flourished deep inside. Ikaia couldn't give up on his brother. He couldn't consider dying when his brother was still alive fighting between every single tribute left alive, but he was running. Getting away. Traveling away from the war that just raged on right in front of him. Tears fell rapidly down his face. Kirito killed someone. He murdered someone because he wants to survive just like every other living tribute in the arena. Ikaia knew going in that the life wasn't worth the living anymore. It wasn't what it was made of because the gentle twin he knew was no longer the gentle twin. The Kirito Ikaia knew existed no longer. In his place was a killer.

Ikaia stood on his feet and rushed home as quickly as he could. He had to tell Ma that he was still alive. That he survived the bloodbath. That he managed to get free, but the one thing hanging heavily on his mind was the fact that his brother killed someone. An innocent soul taken away from the world because of the harsh actions placed upon those fighting in the arena by the Capitol. Knowing that one must kill or be killed. His mind raced with every step he took. The grass crunched loudly beneath his feet as the tiny shack of a house grew larger and larger before his eyes.

"Ma! Ma!" His voice echoed through the door as he turned the corner, and there she was resting on the couch like she had done every single day. Not moving. Barely alive, yet somewhere inside she was fighting. Fighting because her son was fighting. Fighting because she still had the will left to live. Ikaia feared the worse. He feared that if his brother returned home in the box, she would die along with him because right now that's all that's keeping her going. It's all that's making her stay alive right now. "Ma! Kirito survived the bloodbath! He's still alive!" Every word grew stronger and stronger as a stream of tears poured down his face. "But he killed someone Ma. There's people dead, and he killed one of 'em."

Turning down the small hall, he reached deep into the reaping chest placing his hand on the small journal owned by his brother. Every night he returned it to its rightful place because it wasn't his. He sat down on the floor beside the chest. Opening the cover he began reading past more entries. More and more. All of them caused animal like sounds to fill the air around him. All of them shattered his heart more than it already was, but one of them stuck out more than anything in the world.

Entry 19-
It was horrible, completely inhumane and horrible. I was walkin' home tha otha day an' I didn' notice the little critter in the road. Before I was able to see it sittin' there mindin' its own life I stepped on tha thing. What makes it worse is that I killed it, I am a murderer! I have been bawlin' for a solid day now wonderin' what the critter did to deserve such a tragedy. Nothin', it did absolutely nothin'. Howeva I know what I am gonna do to make it betta. I made a promise, a promise to neva kill again. I will only use my hands to heal those who need healin'. One day all of Panem will know me as the healin' boy. The boy with a soul as pure as the minerals pulled from the mines of district two. ~Kirito

The book slid from his hand colliding onto the ground. Kirito promised the little critter he wouldn't kill anymore, yet he slaughtered the girl. He ended her life like it was nothing. Ikaia sat in shock as he stared at the words slowly realizing the games had just begun.

A beast grew inside him. Tearing away at his soul. Shredding every ounce of strength remaining inside him. Each time a weapon swing, Ikaia felt the strand untwist further and further and further until almost nothing remained. Eyes stained red, puffy red cheeks, streaks streaming through mud and dirt caked against his face. Teeth bare. He was turning into a wild creature sitting out in the open. Nails like the claws of a lion dug into the hard ground below him. Sweat ran down the sides of his face drenching the only outfit he has worn since his brother was shipped away like a herd of cattle for a game of slaughter.

Tears failed to fall from dry eyes as they remained fixed on the screen in front of him. The morning was horrible, and Ikaia knew nothing could be done. Ma didn't drink much. She wouldn't even allow the thick substance down her throat. All the begging, all the pleading, all the crying wasn't enough to force her. His heart spiraled downwards into the depths of his stomach. He was alone. So alone and afraid unable to do anything except force himself to move.

Okay, Ikaia, breath.

Okay, Ikaia, take a step.

Okay, Ikaia, take another step.

Over and over as a drought plummeted against the depths of his soul. A robotic mind forcing the young boy to move. A zombie trapped in the world without any desire in the world. The will to survive slipping further and further away. Ikaia watched as the games changed the sweet healer into a monster controlled by the will to survive. Nightmares swarmed his brain at night all of them ending with him screaming for Kirito to run. Screaming for the games to end because watching is tormenting the soul left alone.

Mind spinning around as flashes of fight after fight danced across the screen. In the pits of his heart, Ikaia was so thankful that he wasn't around the horrific creature of a cornucopia spitting weapons at people. Cannon after cannon after cannon echoed throughout the arena. His eyes closed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Six cannons sounding seconds apart. Six lives ended by the demons chasing the innocent souls through the hell they've been placed in. Eight families mourning the loss of a child thus far. Eight have died, yet Kirito was alive moving around the arena. Blood staining his body as blemish carried across his soul. Ikaia felt his soul ripping. The thread holding him together was unwinding inch by inch. All he wanted was to help him. To jump through the screen and wrap his arms around him. Ikaia yearned for his lips to press against the lips of his brother as they shared the love that only they could share.

Red caked against his soul. Blood taken from the life of anyone around. Blood of a monster growing inside of him, and Ikaia was losing control. Voices echoed in his head taunting him, laughing at him, as the idea of losing a twin spread more and more throughout his entire mind. All his eyes could see was a man he cared about laying on the ground bleeding out as the entire district left. Ikaia was alone. Trapped in the reality of his own mind as iron chains pressed horribly against his neck suffocating him.

He panted.

Hands fell to his knees as he pleaded with a god above to save his brother. Maybe he was selfish, but the only person he wanted to live was Kirito. All the others had to die. Every last one of them because the thought of surviving alone was far worse than any pain he could ever imagine. Ma wouldn't survive. Pa was already dead, and if someone else won the games, Ikaia would have nobody.

A rope lassoed his heart pulling it from his chest as his head fell forward. A monster grew inside of him howling into the air around him as every ounce of sanity slowly fled from his body. If the Capitol wanted a monster, Ikaia was happy to oblige.