Title: As the Ashes Drift
Author: .Miss Hikari Minamoto.
Disclaimer: Durr, I don't own any characters.
A/N: This is an AU Hetalia fic, which means I'm writing as if the characters were just ordinary people you'd meet on the street.
Also, I've named Vietnam 'Lien', which roughly means 'Lotus' (their national flower). . .It kinda just made sense.
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As the Ashes Drift
[ Prologue]
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The world was never kind to her.
But. . .to say it was cruel would only add insult to injury. The young girl has her pride after all, and to brood about her misfortune would be shameful. Unacceptable. . .
Dark eyes flutter open and look up to the vast blue sky embracing her homeland. Her heartbeat slows for a moment as the summer breeze picks up and tugs at her long black hair and the folds of her simple áo dài. She smiles, albeit sadly, and then removes the nón lá from atop her head and lets it rest against her back, the silken tie gracing her neck more elegantly than a string of fine pearls. Everything about her appearance is simple and rather ordinary. She is a pretty girl with dark eyes and long dark hair, but otherwise she is unremarkable. Though born into the quiet life of a rice farmer, she's worked hard at her studies to be accepted at a prestigious university. Was it this ambition that has worked against her?
Was a bit of respect too much to ask for?
Lien smirks and shakes her head, sighing and leaning against her rice paddle for support underneath the summer sun. A remnant of the war that tore her nation in two, she has seen more than her share of suffering in life. . . Haunted memories and ugly scars are all she has of those days, though it is for a brighter future that she now strives and toils so relentlessly for. Her heart aches for this country, it aches for her family scattered across this vast continent, and it aches for those she's come to love. . .
It aches for what she's lost.
The girl holds in her hand a small bundle of letters – some are messages to those whom she knows she will probably never see again, but others are words she knows she will probably never say aloud. Whether it is for the sake of peace or perhaps a deeper reason, only she truly knows. They are words left unspoken that eventually forced their way out, leaking themselves onto the bundles of cheap notebook paper she now holds in one hand. Lien's smile fades into a sigh, her dark eyes saddened as she quietly pulls a match from her pocket and lights it beneath the ink-stained papers. . .
It is better they remain unspoken.
It is better this way, she says to herself as the paper is slowly devoured and fades into the wind. It is better that her feelings turn to ash in the summer breeze, because if she forgets these words then she can let go of the heartache that inspired them in the first place. She can burn away the bitter words she's wanted to say for so long, the whisperings of her heart, the embarrassing admittances of admiration. . . As the flames curl around the last bits of paper and drift away, Lien quietly replaces the leaf hat once more upon her head – pulling it down so that her face is hidden. In this vast expanse of land, where Heaven is said to touch the earth, no one can hear the sound of her heart breaking. . .
Yes, she says – it is better this way.
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A/N:
nón lá: cone-shaped leaf hat, commonly worn in Vietnam
áo dài: national dress – a long tight-fitting tunic usually accompanied by loose pants