In the distance, plastered against grey skies, there was white upon the horizon. There was white, dappled singularly with a blot of red. The blood of the people, the blood of the people who lived under the rising sun. Like an insignificant speck among a sea of ghostly pale, it stood out against the rest. There was a silence, people stared softly and solemnly. Mouths clamped shut, stern and clenched. There was a sadness that clung to the back of their throats, that tugged on their vocal cords, kept them silent.
Standing, solid, feet firmly pressed to the ground was a small Japanese man with short-cropped hair. His eyes were the shapes of almonds and they stared like daggers at the Americans that stood below him. Slowly, swinging a scrawny arm boldly back and forth, he swung is flag in a small semi-circle. The white twirled, the red bled, the Japanese smirked on the inside but kept their masks on the outside.
The Japanese man was not worried about the lack of support, he knew his people and he felt as if their presence was enough. It began as a soft whisper in the wind, barely heard by the crowd. A dull, soulless song. A simple melody, set in common time, with a simpler melody. It was short, only a minute in length, but that is all it took for the American soldiers to realize what was happening. One by one, the Japanese joined in, creating a dead drone that sung on and on. The soldiers left, realizing the situation they had found themselves in, but America remained. He stood there, staring at the man on the building.
"Kimigayo wa chiyou ni..." Japan sang softly, America turned to look at the man who had, seemingly, defaced him in front of the crowd. "Yachiyo ni sazare-I-shi no I wa oto narite koke no musu made*."
America smirked, "You are mine, and always will be. You can sing your stupid song, salute your stupid flag, but their not really yours. They're mine. You're mine." By this time, their noses were almost touching, anger like twisted fire practically burned between them. "And you always will be." America scolded him, turning and leaving the scene.
Japan watched him walk away, then looked up to the man who was still waving the flag around in the little circle. Still frowning, still determined to bring hope to the Japan he loved. In the wind, he could still hear the sound of the whisper that started it all. Japan turned to look at a little girl, eyes closed tightly shut in sheer fear, who kept singing the song. Japan smirked softly. Perhaps there was a small bit of hope.
(( A/N
English Translation:
May your reign
Continue for a thousand, eight thousand generations,
Until the pebbles
Grow into boulders
Lush with moss
YOU ARE READING
To Love A Monster
FanfictionA Hetalia Fanfic by Raven Ende. World War II has came to a crashing halt. Germany has lost the war, and America has nearly destroyed Japan with his most powerful weapon. Japan is left broken, sick, and beaten with no one to help him pick up the piec...
