THE CRIMSON-STAINED SNOW
Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers
Universe: (More or less) Historical Hetalia
Genre: Angst/Tragedy (?)
Rating: T (just to be safe)
Warnings: Graphic violence; Human names used (Japan's 2p name, actually); Shitty title XD
Hetalia and its characters are owned by Himaruya Hidekaz.
It was winter. January 3rd 1932, to be precise. Thick snowflakes gracefully descended from the sky onto the cold ground, already covered with an ankle-deep layer of snow. A cool wind blew from the north, bringing a certain freshness to the silent evening. To be frank, it was my favorite type of winter weather. It felt somewhat special. Back in the part of Japan that I used to live in, snowfall was rare, and such wonderful views as this one, were virtually unobtainable. I heard that even in Manchuria, which I settled in for that period of time, such majestic phenomena weren't common. "Utsukushī wa sōde wa arimasen ka?" I thought "Beautiful isn't it?". The whole landscape seemed to be covered with a white coat of fresh snow. In Japan, many people hate snow. Not only because it's a nuisance. They hate it because it's white. The color of death. That's how they came to interpret it.
However, as you may have observed, I don't. In my line of profession, I have become accustomed to death. And especially now, the white surroundings seemed to fit the symbolic meaning of the color perfectly. As I stood there, my katana pierced through the chest of the Chinese man kneeling on the ice-frosted ground. But he wasn't dead, however fatal the wound was. Not yet, at least. I felt him cling to the fabric of my thick black uniform and spared him a glance. In the half-gloom of the night, lit up only by the burning ruin of the nearby house, I saw his brown eyes, filled with despair and fear. I grinned. I find it amusing how people lose all of their pride and dignity during, what seems to them, the last minutes of their short, pathetic lives. A moment later, it occurred to me that he was mouthing the word "Why?"
" 'Why'?" I repeated, chuckling grimly and continued in my usual, serious, monotone "Anyone who stands in the way of the expansion of the Japanese Empire will be executed without warning. No matter of gender, age, race or social status. And you were posing a threat to the success of my advancement in the region. Therefore, you had to die, despite being whom I used to know as my nii-nii1."
Indeed, that man was my older step brother. He raised me since my infancy, as I have been orphaned at a very young age. But family bonds didn't matter in times of war. Certainly not for a skilled soldier like myself. I drew my blade from his body which fell to the ground, powerless, digging itself into the, crimson-stained, snow. He was still alive, but I assume he was devastated to learn that his closest family could have ended his life without batting an eyelid. Besides, his injuries were serious. He wouldn't be able to sit up even if he put all of his energy into it. I turned around and spoke for the last time, before leaving.
"If you're worth anything, you'll survive. I just don't want you interfering into our current conquest. But if you really are going to die, then I guess you really are as weak as I assumed. The great and powerful Chūgoku2 collapsing after 4000 years of the undefeatable empire… How pathetic. But your time is clearly over. It is time for us to be the most prominent power of Asia. However, if in some way you will live to see tomorrow, I recommend you remember one thing: Do not stand in the way of Kuro Honda ever again. Sayōnara3 Yao-san."
With the words as dark as my name4, I walked away. Without looking back. Feeling no remorse, nor anguish. The way I usually did.
Footnotes:
1-Japanese pet name for an older brother
2-Chugoku (jp.) – China; literally: middle country
3-Farewell/Goodbye
4-Kuro (jp.) – Black (So his name, literally means 'black', hence the little metaphor I've constructed)
A/n: Okay, here it is. Something that can probably be described as my first angsty fic. I got the idea for it, while studying for my History final xD. I'll just let you know right now that I'm referring to the Japanese Invasion of Manchuria in here. Originally, I wrote it for my English class as a little descriptive/narrative piece. Yeah... writing Hetalia fics for school-work xD I know, I know, ridiculous, but my teacher doesn't know about that, so I guess it's fine xD And if she's reading it right now, then I would just like to inform her, that, YES, I WROTE THIS MYSELF AND DIDN'T COPY IT FROM HERE. XD. Technically, I gave it in before I put it up on , so I couldn't have copied it, even if I wanted to ;) So, yes. Enjoy this short, bloody, kind of random story. And leave me a review! ^^ Those are much appreciated :* I like constructive criticism.
PS- If there is anything wrong with the language I used here, it's because English isn't my first language, so I am sorry, but I make mistakes sometimes. Please, don't hate on me too much ;-;