"A day that will live in Infamy..."
December 7, 1941
Alfred yawned as he poured himself a bowl of ceral. He glanced out the window at the peaceful Sunday morning outside. It was hard to believe that Europe was currently in a full-fledged war, but that war wasn't his problem.
Suddenly, Alfred felt a sharp pain in his head; it was the kind of pain that nations got when their people were killed by the masses. He panicked and rushed to the small radio on his kitchen counter. He turned the knob until it reached the news station.
"Attention! We just recieved word that the US naval base in Hawaii, Pearl Harbor, has been attacked! I repeat, Pearl Harbor has been attacked!" boomed the voice on the radio.
Alfred's heart dropped in his chest and sweat formed on his brow. "But I'm neutral, so why? Why would I get attacked?" he thought franticly. He heard a noise and jumped back just in time to miss the swinging blade of a sword.
"The hell! Kiku?" Alfred yelled as he caught sight of the nation of Japan wearing a black version of his usual military uniform. The Japanese man straightened up and pointed his sword tip at the American man, and his face was just as stoic as ever.
"I'm sorry, Amerika-san," Kiku said and slashed Alfred across the chest. Alfred gasped and fell to his knees, while blood gushed from his mouth.
"Why? What are you planning?" Alfred panted and glared at Kiku, as blood and sweat pooled out around his body. Kiku slipped his sword back into its sheath and stared at Alfred.
"Orders are Orders," Kiku mutters, and Alfred could've swore he saw those souless, brown eyes brimming with tears. He turned around and silently slipped out of the room with feline-like grace. Alfred was left lying facedown in a pool of his own blood while he slipped into unconciouness.
A couple thousand miles away, in the Pacific Ocean, the shocked cries of trapped men were silenced as the U.S.S. Arizona sunk to its watery grave.