Gareki
So I sit down to write my first Hetalia fic (pretty much my first real fic ever), and the muses give me one of the most touchy subjects in recent history. Yeesh.
Actually, this got started when I read the main storyline and got to the one of the last comics, where the Axis members are captured and Kiku almost commits seppuku. It seemed extremely OOC to me at first, what with him usually being so stoic/demure and sensible. Then I thought about what happened to Japan at the end of WWII, and I realized that yeah, maybe he would be driven to that point.
I have extensive notes at the bottom, both about the historical aspect and about my reasons for writing the fic in the first place. Please read everything before commenting!
P.S. I use human and country names fairly interchangeably, sorry if that's confusing.
* * *
Kiku gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the trembling in his limbs. He longed to wipe the sweat and grime from his forehead but dared not pause to make the motion. Sweat trickled under the collar of his uniform, making his back itch and the heavy white cloth cling uncomfortably to his skin. The uniform itself was anything but pristine, having been covered in blood and dirt long ago.
He tightened his grip on the katana, knowing that such a defense was essentially useless. Alfred stood about ten paces away, the Colt he favored aimed directly at Kiku. His expression was tired but determined, and there was no sign he would ever yield to the island nation.
He had been a fool, Kiku realized, to provoke the younger country. No, he silently amended, to outright attack him without even the courtesy of declaring war first. Not that he hadn't tried to do it the right way; it wasn't like he could foresee the translations taking extra time. But regardless of intent, America wound up angry instead of afraid, and rightly so.
A bitter smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Yes, he had been quite the fool to think that one attack, unwarned and unprovoked, would produce anything other than a desire for vengeance.
"Kiku," Alfred's voice caught his attention. "Put down your weapon and surrender."
"No," he refused firmly, jet-black eyebrows lowered.
Alfred sighed and adjusted his grip. "Kiku, please. The war is over. The rest of the Axis powers have surrendered. Please, hasn't there been enough bloodshed?"
Kiku raised his chin defiantly. "My people do not surrender."
The blond nation suddenly fired, the bullet ricocheting off the katana as Kiku whipped it in an arc. He quivered unexpectedly, adrenaline coursing through his body. That was far too close, he thought, real fear surging up.
"This is your last warning," Alfred informed him, and Kiku thought he detected a note of pleading in his voice. "Yield, and we will discuss the terms of your surrender.
"No," Kiku repeated emphatically.
America sighed again and fired without warning. Kiku's reaction was only an instant delayed, but it was enough. The bullet grazed his hip -
- And Kiku's world went white.
He felt the fire of a thousand suns blaze within his body, consuming him from the inside out. The heat - God, the heat was absolutely unbearable, coursing through his veins in molten fury. Screams echoed in his ears - the dead and dying pleading for mercy as their world was incinerated. Their loss wracked his body over and over, and he died a little with each one.
When he came back to awareness, he was on his side on the ground, arms clutching his belly. There was fresh blood on his uniform, seeping from a deep gouge in his side, and the taste of bile in his throat. His katana was several feet away. Blinking unsteadily, Kiku rebuked his unruly body as he struggled to rise. That bullet couldn't cause that much damage! Not even if -
Hiroshima.
He caught his breath, eyes widening in horror.
Hiroshima was gone.
No, he thought, fighting the panic rising in his gut, no, that's not possible. A city that size - there's no way it could just be wiped off the map. There has to be some explanation... Yet as he stretched out his consciousness, he reached nothing but an empty space where Hiroshima had been only moments before.
The loss almost dropped him again. Kiku closed his eyes in grief and shock, tears spilling down his cheeks. Seventy thousand people were gone, destroyed in the space of a few heartbeats. I wonder if this is how he felt after Pearl Harbor...
His eyes flew open, and he whirled on Alfred, had pressed to his side to staunch the flow of blood. "What did you do?" he ground out, teeth bared in pain and revulsion.
"I'm sorry - "
"Hiroshima is gone. What did you do?"
Alfred's eyes were filled with sadness. "This has to stop. One way or another, Kiku, the war must end."
"By the deaths of innocents?!" he snarled. "Is... is that what you call justice?"
"Then surrender," Alfred pleaded. "You can save them, Kiku. It doesn't have to end like this."
"Go to hell," Kiku snapped.
He twisted and dove for the katana, ignoring the spurt of blood from his side. It was suicide, he knew, but what choice did he have? Submit to him?
The bullet ripped through his other hip, and he hit the ground writhing in agony. The unbearable sensation flooded over him a second time, threatening to tear his body and psyche apart. His people's pain echoed through him, and he added his screams to theirs as he felt Nagasaki die.
Gentle hands cradled his head and neck. "Kiku, please," and Alfred's voice hitched in a sob.
Kiku gasped for breath, his vision swimming. "I - I yield," he whispered with the last bit of strength. "I yield..."
Alfred breathed a sigh of relief, holstering the pistol as Kiku slipped into unconsciousness. He threaded his fingers the fine ebony hair, thumbs sweeping the tears off the Asian man's delicate cheekbones. Pulling a small bag from his jacket, he fished out several bandages and used them to bind up the twin wounds on his sides.
England rounded the corner of the house and stopped short, gaping at the scene in front of him. "Are you out of your ever-loving mind?!" he exploded. "You're giving aid to him? After all he's done to you, to all of us..."
America cut him off with a shake of his head. "England, the war has ended. I can't just let him bleed to death."
"But he's the enemy!"
"Arthur," Alfred said wearily; and the familiar address silenced the older man. "It's over."
Then he looked down at the wounded nation in his arms, and he wondered how accurate that statement really was.
* * *
When Kiku woke again, the first thing he notice was that it was dark outside. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer outside, per se. In fact, if he was not mistaken, he was in his own room, in his own bed.
But not in his own uniform. The thought made him go white with shock, then red with embarrassment. He sat up abruptly, wincing as his hipbones burned fiercely, and yanked back the covers. He sighed a little in relief when he was the dark blue kimono he favored, silver cranes decorating the hems, clinging gently to his frame.
He rose silently, padding barefoot to the window. The gibbous moon cast enough light to see by, and he could make out three forms on the front step. Voices reached his ears: two speaking French, the third in Russian. The Allies, he realized. Which meant he was essentially a prisoner in his own house.
Turning away from the window in disgust, he actually considered pacing the room to burn off energy when a small bundle near his pillow caught his eye. He fluidly knelt by the bedside, frowning before he undid the tie on the plain brown paper. His puzzlement only increased when he saw his dress whites, cleaned, pressed, and neatly folded. There was even a pair of white gloves, and - unbelievable - the tanto he normally kept tucked at the small of his back. His shoes had been polished and set against the wall, gleaming softly in the moonlight.
How odd, he thought to himself. They treat my wounds, let me stay in my own house, and even provide me with a clean uniform. It's as though they're deliberately -
Ah. The negotiations. Now he understood; this was merely meant to soften him up.
He set the clothes back down, cradling the tanto in his palms. His thumbs caressed the shining blade, the smooth join, the well-worn hilt. Pausing for a moment, he traced the kanji at the end of the hilt with a forefinger. Yuuki, it said: courage.
Surrendering was not an act of courage. It was done in desperation - in an attempt to spare his people's lives. The shame, however, was still there. He felt it burning white-hot-cold in his gut, an after-image of the previous pain, along with remorse and grief for those lost in the devastating attacks.
He had failed.
He had failed to follow his boss' orders, he had failed to uphold the code of the warrior, and he had failed to protect the citizens under his care. And that, Kiku felt, was a greater burden than he could bear.
Gripping the tanto, he calmly rose again, kneeling in the center of the room. The knife he laid in front of him, running parallel to the edge of his knees. Then, he reached up and undid the ties and sash of his kimono. The rich indigo material slithered down his arms and body, pooling about his legs on the floor.
There were bandages across his hips and waist, he noticed dispassionately, covered partly by his gray shorts. Kind of them, but it would be useless now.
He raised the tanto in his right hand, pressing his left to the flat of the blade as he took several deep, steadying breaths. Briefly, he wished for his katana - which was nowhere to be found - and a kaishaku to finish this in the old manner. He had failed in everything else. This, at least, he would do as properly as he could.
Closing his eyes, Kiku reversed the blade, so the tip was centimeters from his belly. Left to right, he reminded himself, and his muscles tensed. Then, as he exhaled one final time, a slim hand firmly grasped his wrist and made him jump. His eyes flew open, and he found himself meeting the blazing brown gaze of an extremely pissed off Wang Yao.
"The hell are you doing, aru?!" the Chinaman hissed.
Kiku scowled, both at the intrusion and at his racing heart. "What do you care?" he snapped. Indeed, considering their current relationship, he was amazed that the older nation was holding him back instead of driving the blade in. "Why are you even here?"
"Keeping an eye on you, aru," he explained in a low voice. "And it's a good thing, aru. Do you really expect this to end everything, aru?"
"That's the general idea of seppuku," Kiku said sardonically.
With his free hand, Yao slapped him viciously across the face. "You know what we are, aru. You know we are bound to the land and the people, aru. We are the soul of our country, aru. What effect do you think an act like this would have, aru?"
"They are gone!" Kiku cried, blood pounding in his ears. "Hiroshima and Nagasaki are gone. Completely destroyed, Wang Yao. Thousands and thousands of people are dead because of my arrogance, my pride, my - my weakness. I cannot live with that kind of guilt!" He tugged, but the other nation refused to relinquish his grip.
"Guilt?" Yao's lip curled. "Oh, I see, aru. Your pride is still the problem, aru. This is not about guilt; this is about shame, aru. You were defeated, and you cannot live with that shame, so you seek to escape like this, aru. You do not want to face the people after your dishonor, so instead you inflict more pain on them to absolve yourself, aru. Oh, yes, it is extremely brave of you, aru!"
The sarcasm stung, and Kiku flinched as though he had been struck again. "Th-that's not true," he gasped, clenching the tanto to hide how his hands shook. "This... this is penance, not an escape."
"You are acting in fear, aru," China said softly. "Fear of the Allies, fear of your countrymen; fear maybe even of yourself, aru. Penance done out of fear is not remorseful, aru."
"I am not a coward," Kiku declared, eyes burning.
"Really?" Yao abruptly released his wrists, folding his hands in the sleeves of his crimson robes. "Prove it."
Kiku stared at him in shock, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable even to think, really. His eyes darted down to the tanto, back up to Yao. The Chinaman knelt there calmly, gaze challengingly boring into Kiku. There was a silent dare in his brown eyes that pierced right through the island nation - but a dare to what?
He gripped the hilt more tightly, fighting the fear sweeping through him. Stop it, he sternly told himself. Don't listen to him. This is the right thing - the honorable thing - to do.
Biting his lip, he glanced back up at the immortal. Wang Yao was like an implacable statue, his shoulders barely shifting with every breath as the only sign of life. Kiku swallowed dryly, trembling, and felt sick when he realized in his heart he couldn't do it.
He lowered the tanto, tears tracing fiery lines down his cheeks. "I'm n-not a coward," he insisted, more to himself than to the other.
Yao sighed quietly, leaning forward to gently pry the tanto from his grip. "I know," he whispered. "But I had to make sure you knew, aru."
Kiku sniffed, swiping roughly at his cheeks. "Why... why can't I..."
Silently, Yao lifted the kimono about his lean frame, adroitly fastening the ties before he answered. "I think, deep down, you do not really want to die, aru. And I know you are not really trying to run away from your problems, aru." He paused in the middle of tying the sash and tipped Kiku's chin up. "I think you are trying to make things right, and I think maybe this is the only way you know how, aru."
The gentle explanation almost made Kiku sob, and he made a soft hiccupping noise as he tried to hold it back. Yao sighed again, smiling a bit ruefully, and drew Kiku onto his lap with his arms around those slender shoulders. Kiku tensed initially, then buried his face in Yao's chest and clung to him as he cried and cried.
Stroking the sleek black head, the Chinaman rocked them both a little in the silence. He remembered long ago, when Kiku was little; how the younger nation would climb into his lap in the evenings and fall asleep, clutching his robe. The loss pained him, and his arms tightened around Kiku as he quieted.
"I failed them, aniki," Kiku said, his voice muffled against the scarlet cloth. "I wasn't... strong enough."
Yao continued stroking his hair. "Feeling remorse is not an act of cowardice, Kiku," he murmured. "Neither is grief or regret, and neither is surrendering, aru. You did it to save your people, to protect them and your land, aru. If anything, that took more courage than going to war, aru."
Kiku mulled that over. "But... Hiroshima and Nagasaki..."
"You had no way of knowing what America had planned, aru. By backing down when you did, you spared countless lives on both sides, aru." Yao kneaded the back of his neck, gently. "Sometimes facing life takes more courage than facing death, aru."
He took some small comfort from that, but tears sprang to his eyes anew when the burn marks on his hips throbbed painfully. "It hurts..." he whimpered. "It hurts, aniki..."
"It will always hurt," Yao said softly, and he felt his back ache in sympathy. "The pain will lessen over time and eventually fade, aru. But the marks will always be there, aru. Not to shame you, nor to make you proud; but to remind you, so you do not forget, aru." He glanced down at the dark head resting on his chest. "Do you understand, aru?"
"I think so." Kiku sniffed again, plaintively. "I'm in trouble, aren't I."
Yao laughed quietly, offering him a tissue tucked inside his sleeve. "Your bosses, yes. You personally, not so much." He went back to idly stroking Kiku's nape. "You fought very bravely, aru. No one can deny that, aru. And you did the right thing by yielding when you did, aru. So yes, you will need to be at the negotiations, but I do not think anger will be focused on you, aru."
Kiku finished drying his tears and managed to smile a little, even though his eyelids were drooping. Yao noticed and grinned broadly. "Speaking of which, you need to go to sleep, aru. It will be a long day tomorrow, aru."
A yawn interrupted his nod, and Yao laughed again. He scooped Kiku up, ignoring his mumbled protestations, and carried him back to the mattress. Kiku gave up and leaned against his shoulder, curling up when Yao set him down and tugged the blanked up over him.
He grabbed Yao's hand when he started to rise, brow furrowing a little. "Why... are you being so kind to me? After... after everything - "
Yao silenced him with a finger on his lips. "We are still family, aru. Those ties are not so easy to break, aru."
Kiku's somber eyes slipped closed. "Arigatou," he whispered, shoulders already rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep.
Smiling wistfully, Yao stroked his head one final time before rising to resume his silent watch outside the door.
* * *
Kiku rose at dawn, a gentle ache still persistent throughout his body. He dressed silently, working the gold buttons through their holes with trembling fingers. Finished, he allowed himself one final glance in the mirror before he turned away.
The tanto lay on the floor where it had been discarded the night before, looking quite innocent in the early morning light. Kiku crouched to pick it up, balancing it lightly in his hands. A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, and he slid it back in its sheath before placing it on his pillow.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and he stood calmly. "Enter," he said quietly, and blinked in surprise as the door slid back to reveal Alfred. The blond nation regarded him impassively before extending his katana, hilt-first.
Kiku blinked again, before murmuring his thanks and accepting the sword. He looped the gold cord through his belt, grateful for the act and the dignity it afforded him. Alfred waited until he was done before motioning to him and leading him down the corridors.
They reached his office in a few moments, and Alfred stood aside to let him enter. He caught sight of the other nations in there and froze, heart ramming in his throat. The minister of foreign affairs was watching him from behind the desk, and he had the absurd desire to turn and bolt.
Then he caught Yao's warm, supportive gaze from across the room; and lifting his chin a little, Kiku proudly stepped forward.
~Fin~
* * *
Phew! This one required a lot of research, which I unfortunately cannot cite properly, as this site does not allow imbedded links. Most of my research on Pearl Harbor, the atomic bombings, and seppuku was done through Wikipedia and Google-fu. The characterization and canonical information is, I hope, consistent with what I've seen on the Hetalia LJ community and other places.
For more information than included here, I strongly recommend reading Wikipedia's articles on the dropping of the atomic bombs and the attack on Pearl Harbor. The latter is, of course, the incident Kiku is referring to at the beginning of the first scene. To make a long story short, the attack was supposed to commence 30 minutes after the delivery of the declaration of war. Due to translation problems, however, the order was reversed, making the attack (however unintentionally) much more of a slap in the face to the Americans. If you are interested in the topic at all, I highly recommend the movie Tora! Tora! Tora!, which is considered to be the most accurate portrayal of the events leading up to and including Pearl Harbor and the reactions on both sides.
Kaishaku = "second". This person, usually a friend of the one committing seppuku, would stand nearby to finish the job by near-decapitation. If the kaishaku was skilled, the two strokes (abdominal and decapitation) would be simultaneous.
Tanto = a short knife, with a blade about 6-12 inches long. This was one of two weapons traditionally used for the seppuku ritual, the other being a short sword called a wakizashi.
Gareki = "rubble". It seemed an appropriate title for this subject. (Thanks to my beta for suggesting it, I suck at coming up with titles.)
I realize that this point in history is an extremely touchy subject on all sides, and that there is a lot of bad blood concerning it. I am not in any way trying to beautify, demean, or belittle what happened, and I hope I treated the events responsibly and with the appropriate respect. I am also not trying to explain away Alfred/America's actions, other than presenting the generally agreed-upon view taken by historians that he was trying to end the war as quickly as possible. I am not taking a stand on whether it was right or wrong, or even whether or not it was necessary, and I would need a hell of a lot more research and study before I could even form an opinion on the subject.
I know that it took some time for the Japanese government to find out what exactly happened to the two cities. Since the nation-tans are, as Yao put it, "the soul of their country, bound to the land and people," I think the effect on Kiku would be quite immediate. Also, while I know events like this hurt the nation-tans, I'm not sure if the reverse is true (ie, if Alfred breaking his glasses would cause an earthquake down the center of Texas). I did read an excellent fanfic somewhere where Arthur tells a colony!Alfred to be careful, because his actions and emotions have repercussions in the country. However, I doubt Kiku, being so tattered emotionally and physically in the immediate aftermath, would stop to consider the total effects of his actions; I think he would be more focused on trying to regain his honor and negate the implicit shame of surrender and defeat.
I'm also aware that the entire scene between Yao and Kiku is fairly OOC for the time period; considering that Kiku was the one who inflicted the wound on Yao's back, I think it's safe to say their countries' relations were downright abysmal at the time. However, country relations =/= nation-tan relations, at least in my head canon, and I think the different nation-tans could still get along even if their bosses and countries are on bad terms. (Plus I kinda wanted to play with insecure!Kiku and onichan!Yao a little. :3)
Originally I wrote the second scene with Alfred checking on Kiku and stopping him and having the whole discussion about courage. Then I realized that would be even more OOC than this version, and that Kiku would probably be pissed off enough that he'd go through with the act purely out of spite. Personally, I like it better this way. Also, I think that between the actual bombings, the sheer guts it took to try to commit seppuku, and emotional whiplash of Yao's intrusion, it wouldn't be at all OOC for Kiku to cry in his aniki's arms. (Even if he would deny it ever happened afterwards.)
The whole point of this minor dissertation is this: I'm not trying to mess with history, or to take a moral/ethical standpoint on its events. This was more of an attempt to really get inside Kiku's head and see if I could follow his thoughts, emotions, and reactions in the time leading up to and following this point in history. (I ended up doing that slightly with Yao and Alfred as well, which was unintentional but a good exercise in staying in-character.) While I love learning about history, politics, and international relations (to a certain point), I don't feel it's my place to judge the rightness of a certain event. You can study the actions leading up to that event, and what caused it, and how it went down, and the effects it had afterwards; and yes, there are times when you can say "This was absolutely wrong" or "This was absolutely right" or even "This was absolutely necessary". I don't think anyone disputes the despicable nature of the Holocaust (though some refute its existence, and I personally wish they'd hightail it back to their own planet). But on something as complex and intertwined as this, I have no desire to decide how the scales balance; I will leave that to persons far more qualified than myself. As Kiku himself says, leave the real world alone; 2D space is much more fun anyway.
This is my first real fanfic, and also the first one I've ever let anyone other than my beta read. I hope you enjoyed, and please be gentle in the comments; constructive criticism is always appreciated, and happy comments will be hugged. Flames will be used to heat my room, which never seems to be warm enough. Many, many thank-yous and hugs go to my lovely beta CJBlackwing, who is the Poland to my Lithuania. 3