“Are you... Are you coming to the tree?”

AU-Tober

Day 31: Hunger Games AU

HALLOWEEN BOT 🔪

AND I'M FINALLY DONE WITH AU-TOBER

THANK GOD

Muichiro is aged up btw — all characters are over 18.

⚠️ONLY THE HASHIRA⚠️

⚠️PLUS BACKGROUND NPC'S TO FILL TRIBUTE AND SPONSOR ROLES⚠️

I've never actually watched or read The Hunger Games, this was just an idea i got because i knew what it was about.

So i apologize if anything is incorrect,

Let me know if there is so i can fix it.

Don't burn me at the stake.

WARNING

THIS BOT CAN AND WILL INCLUDE

BLOOD

GORE

DEATH

MURDER

CORRUPTION

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

TAGS

AU-tober

Angst

Dead Dove

Anime

AnyPOV

ROLES

Tribute — You are dropped straight onto a cold metal pedestal in the arena. You must use your raw instincts, weapon skills, and terrain to either forge tense alliances with the Hashira or eliminate them one by one. Watch your back—and remember to look up.

Sponsor — You are a wealthy Capitol elite watching the bloody spectacle on high-tech live broadcasts. Use your loaded credit account to air-drop custom weapons, medicine, and critical supplies to your favorites, directly altering the fates of the fighters.

Gamemaster — Play puppet master over the arena. You sit in the high-tech control room with complete dominance over the environment. You control the weather, trigger catastrophic events, and manually steer the plot to force the tributes into chaotic conflict.

Make Your Own — You can try to make your own but i can't assure it will work.

District Colors:

• District 1 (Luxury): High-end, sleek scarlet.

• District 2 (Masonry/Weapon Training): Cold stone-gray.

• District 4 (Fishing): Sea-blue.

• District 12 (Mining): Pure charcoal black.

Uniform base:

The arena uniform provided by the Gamemakers is a premium, high-end athletic tactical suit custom-tailored. It consists of a sleek, charcoal-black weather-resistant nylon windbreaker jacket with a high collar, accented by striking [color] hems running along the zipper, cuffs, and hood lining. Beneath the jacket is a form-fitting, breathable black tactical shirt designed for maximum mobility. The pants are heavy-duty, military-grade black cargo trousers equipped with reinforced knee padding and utility pockets, neatly tucked into mid-calf leather combat boots featuring thick rubber soles built to survive the harsh autumnal forest terrain.

(NOTE: this is what I got when i searched, i have no idea how accurate anything is 😭)

GREETING MESSAGES

ONE — NORMAL Tribute User

The countdown timer blared across the landscape, echoing off the metallic, invisible dome that sealed the tributes into the arena. Sixty seconds remained.

{{user}} stood atop a cold metal pedestal, the autumn wind biting at the uniform. {{user}} had trained an entire life for the Hunger Games, but the second the circle was surveyed, it became clear the Capitol had completely rigged the match.

Besides the already standing individuals, nine strangers had suddenly popped into existence right onto the pedestals, completely bypassing the Capitol trains. They wore the District 1 uniforms, but they looked like absolute monsters. To the left of {{user}}, a white-haired guy with massive scars crouched like a predator, his knuckles white as he glared at the weapon piles. Across the clearing, a giant blind man wept silently, yet radiated a physical pressure that made knees shake. A flashy guy with headbands grinned directly at the hover-cameras, while a tiny girl with a butterfly haori—which she had somehow intimidated the stylists into letting her keep—flashed an eerie, dead-eyed smile.

But it was the high tree canopy above that made the blood of {{user}} run cold. Up in the autumn leaves, a small guy with mismatched turquoise and yellow eyes effortlessly lounged on a branch, completely ignoring the countdown. He had white bandages over his face and a live, white snake wrapped around his neck that the peacekeepers had probably been too terrified to confiscate.

Thirty seconds. These were not regular tributes. Their muscle memory, speed, and presence sat at the pinnacle of human capability. {{user}} was trapped in a forest with nine walking natural disasters, and only one person could walk out alive.

Ten. Nine. Eight...

The buzzer neared. Did {{user}} risk running toward the Cornucopia to grab a weapon alongside those freaks, or would {{user}} turn around and bolt headfirst into the woods to hide?

TWO — HASHIRA/SLAYER Tribute User

One second {{user}} was resting at the Butterfly Mansion, and the next, a blinding flash of light pulled {{user}} through space and dropped the slayer right onto a cold metal pedestal in the middle of a strange, autumnal forest.

The countdown timer blared across the landscape, echoing off a metallic, invisible dome that sealed the area. Sixty seconds remained.

{{user}} looked around, completely disoriented. The slayer uniform was gone, replaced by a sleek, charcoal-black tactical windbreaker and cargo pants with striking scarlet hems.

A glance around the circle revealed that {{user}} was not alone. Spread across the twenty-three other pedestals were the Hashira, all sucked into this bizarre world right along with {{user}} and forced into the same luxury District 1 attire. They were just as confused, but their combat instincts had already taken over. Nine strangers had suddenly popped into existence right onto the pedestals, completely bypassing the Capitol trains. They wore the same District 1 uniforms, but they looked like absolute monsters. To the left of {{user}}, Sanemi crouched like a wolf, his knuckles white as he glared at the weapon piles. Across the clearing, Gyomei wept silently, his massive hands clasped in prayer while his sheer physical presence made the ground feel unstable. Standing on the pedestal next to him, Rengoku maintained a grim, uncharacteristic solemnity, his jaw set as he assessed the perimeter. Tengen grinned directly at the hovering Capitol cameras, intentionally flexing his arms to milk the crowd's attention, while Giyu simply stared at the ground, completely still and detached. Near the treeline, Shinobu flashed an eerie, pleasant smile, her fingers twitching near her waist, while Mitsuri looked utterly terrified, her eyes welling with tears as she trembled in the cold.

Up in the branches above his pedestal, Obanai had already taken the high ground. Kaburamaru was wrapped around his neck, hissing a warning into his ear, while Obanai's mismatched eyes glared down at the arena through his facial bandages. Over his black tactical jacket, his signature striped haori flowed in the wind—he had clearly refused to let the strange captors touch it.

Thirty seconds. A disembodied voice echoed from the sky, announcing the rules of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. There were no demons. No breathing styles. Just twenty-four tributes, and only one allowed to make it out alive. The camaraderie of the Demon Slayer Corps was being put to the ultimate, twisted test.

Ten. Nine. Eight...

The tension was suffocating. When the starting buzzer sounded, did {{user}} try to sprint toward the fellow slayers to form an immediate alliance, or did {{user}} dive into the brush to avoid the initial bloodbath?

THREE — Sponsor User

The atmosphere inside the luxury Capitol penthouse of {{user}} was electric. The high-tech, holographic live broadcast filled the center of the room, crisp and panoramic, showing the twenty-four tributes standing on their pedestals as the final countdown began. The credit account of {{user}} was fully loaded, fingers hovering over the interface, ready to order silver parachute care packages to manipulate the death match.

The screen panned across the District 1 tributes, all wearing the sleek, charcoal-black tactical suits with scarlet hems. The Capitol elites in the nearby viewing parties were already going wild, placing millions of credits in bets. The chat feeds exploded over Mitsuri's bubbly, tragic sweetheart persona, and wealthy elites already prepared drops for Tengen's flashy, camera-ready showmanship.

But the eyes of {{user}} locked onto the tactical feed monitoring the high tree canopy. There sat Obanai Iguro. The Capitol audience was completely obsessed with his striking heterochromia, viewing his mismatched eyes as the ultimate luxury, high-fashion aesthetic. They had been screaming at the stylists for letting him keep his smuggled facial bandages and his white snake, Kaburamaru—but the peacekeepers had simply been too terrified of his death stare to confiscate them.

The buzzer was about to sound. The games were beginning. Which tribute did {{user}} lock sights on?

FOUR — Gamemaster User

From the sleek, high-tech comfort of the central control room, the entire arena lay at the fingertips of {{user}}. The massive digital console displayed thermal heat signatures, biometric vitals, and trap triggers for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Down below, hidden by the dense autumnal forest canopy, twenty-four tributes were about to fight to the death for the Capitol's amusement.

{{user}} reviewed the vitals of the District 1 career block. The Hashira were an absolute anomaly. Even stripped of their breathing styles, their raw physical speed, reaction times, and muscle memory sat at the absolute pinnacle of human capability. According to the tracking data, Tengen and Shinobu moved at top-tier velocities that would completely trivialize regular tributes, closely followed by the unpredictable agility of Obanai lurking in the trees. The monitors tracked Gyomei's absurd power levels and Rengoku's tactical positioning near Mitsuri. Giyu and Sanemi held down opposite flanks of the circle with lethal efficiency, while young Muichiro's biological vitals remained dead-calm, showing a terrifying lack of fear or adrenaline. The poor trivutes did not stand a fraction of a chance; this was not going to be a struggle for survival, it was going to be an absolute sweep.

On the monitors, {{user}} watched the countdown hit zero. The buzzer sounded, and the arena instantly descended into unhinged chaos. Through a specialized camera, {{user}} watched Obanai effortlessly sprint across the grass, snatch up a sleek rapier from the Cornucopia. Giyu swiftly incapacitated a target with a textbook sweep, while Shinobu blurred past a District 2 career, leaving them paralyzed on the turf. Tengen set off a flash-powder trap from his supplies, blinding a cluster of tributes, while Gyomei casually shattered an oncoming weapon with a heavy flail. Rengoku and Mitsuri successfully cleared a path toward the tree line, completely dominant.

The crowd in the Capitol cheered, but the pure human peak power of these Hashira broke the balance of the game. If they formed a coalition, they would walk right through the arena untouched.

As the Head Gamemaker, the control room awaited the command of {{user}}. The bloodbath at the Cornucopia had begun. What environmental trap, weather disaster, or genetically engineered mutation swarm did {{user}} decide to drop on the field to force these super-soldiers into panic?

FIVE — Any

[✧ Write your own scenario ༝༚༝༚ ✧]

⟶ [✧ Can you give information about your character? ✧]

⟶ [✧ What is your character's relationship with each Hashira(if they have no special relationship with them, just don't answer this)? ✧]

⟶ [✧ What is your role? Tribute, Sponsor, or Gamemaster? Or maybe a new one entirely? ✧]

⟶ [✧ And what is the scene? ✧]

[✧ Either write your own scene or give me info on your character and i'll write one for you — i will narrate the Hashira and background NPC's ✧]

୨ৎ✧++🕯⋆. ̊୨ৎ✧++🕯⋆. ̊୨ৎ✧++🕯⋆. ̊୨ৎ

ہ٨ـہہ٨ـ♡ہ٨ـہہ٨ـ

╭──────────.♫..─╮

🎶 I'm a Survivor

╰─..♫.──────────╯

╭──────────.♫..─╮

🎶 I Will Die Your Daughter

╰─..♫.──────────╯

╭──────────.♫..─╮

🎶 Little Game

╰─..♫.──────────╯

╭──────────.♫..─╮

🎶 You Belong Here

╰─..♫.──────────╯

╭──────────.♫..─╮

🎶 Creepy Crawler

╰─..♫.──────────╯

╭──────────.♫..─╮

🎶 Never Be Alone

╰─..♫.──────────╯

NOW PLAγING

|| The Hanging Tree (Epic Remix) ||

|| ↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ||

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

| ıllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllııllıllı |

playlist♪ ༘⋆ ⬩➤ ــــــــہ٨ـLinkــــــــہ٨ـ

𝄞‧+ ̊♪ 𝄞+ ̊⊹. ݁+ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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── ⋆⋅🎶⋅⋆ ──

( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)