Red Cherry Blossoms Flowing In the Wind
30 million Chinese died in World War II due to the Japanese aggression, and between 378 thousand to 473 thousand Koreans also died. Between 200 million to 300 million women is East Asia and South East Asia were used as comfort woman. This is a tragedy that should never be repeated? But...what should be done about it? Forgiveness or revenge? This a story based on what could happen in the near future.
Kiku was dead. Alfred swallowed, doing his best to not stare of flinch at the empty seat at the most recent world conference since the war had ended. The war, thought Alfred bitterly. He shifted his prosthesis leg self-consciously. If you call it that. It was…slaughter. The young country had lost more than three million of his sons and daughters in the war. Alfred lost even more of his happy-go-lucky demeanor as he thought of how many graves he had dug in the last six months. So many…and there's still so much. For a brief moment, he thought about of how Kiku would reassure him, quietly of course. Alfred shut his eyes in pain. I can't believe he's gone.
It all started when Kiku's boss's (or was it his boss's' boss?) family was assassinated. They were highly thought of, and Kiku's people loved them. The old emperor of Japan and his wife were celebrating their grandson's Coming of Age Ceremony with the rest of their family when a group of assassins killed them. Alfred still remembered the shock and horror when he realized the magnitude of the situation. He couldn't believe that Yao had done that to poor Kiku. The only person in the royal family who had survived was Princess Aiko, who had been thought dead when the assassins fled the scene. Yao had secretly ordered a group of assassins to eliminate Kiku's boss and his family for some reason or another. Princess Aiko had then been crowned queen not long after the funerals of her family, and vowed revenge to Kiku and his nation.
"Why don't you understand, America?" Kiku had asked him when Alfred had pleaded him not to go to war. "The hatred we have for each other is now too much for both of us to bear. It's been one hundred years since the war, but…" Alfred had known Kiku was angry – as he had been since the assassinations –, but somehow he seemed more tired than upset. Kiku had even given him a rare smile as Alfred in vain tried to stop the unheroic tears that were leaking down his cheeks. He had no idea that the meeting would be the last time he ever saw Kiku, besides the hurried phone calls and brief messages the other sent. Damn it. Alfred thought as he thought of Kiku's smile again. Damn it all!
The war had not started because of the assassinations. No, it had started partly because of a stupid island. Alfred had even forgotten it had existed until Arthur had told him. It had precious resources that both Kiku and Yao wanted, and both of them claimed the tiny stupid island. Another missing face, Alfred thought glumly. Arthur had been seriously injured in the war. So much so that the stubborn fantasy-loving brother that he loved could not make it to the meeting. It had also stemmed from other reasons. All the way back to World War II, and even before that. Yao had been damaged in his heart and mind when Kiku had betrayed him and hurt him. It had taken such a long time for the two brothers to even speak to each other, and Alfred had thought gleefully of how things were patching up between them. How wrong he was.
Alfred had thought that his ally, Young-soo, would support his side during the war, but he was wrong yet again. Young-soo was also deeply scarred by Kiku's occupation of his beloved country, and couldn't forgive him. He allied himself with Yao. To make matters worse, Ivan joined Yao and Young-soo. Alfred had been left with the reluctant European countries by his side. They thought that the Asian countries would suit this war by themselves, and wouldn't create much harm at all. How wrong they were.
Yao invaded Kiku early in the war, causing catastrophe and death in his wake. There were so many screams in the air that Alfred couldn't make out if Kiku was screaming or not. Yao had received some serious damage in the war after that. So many cities were bombed. Alfred still remembered the stiff words the normally respectful nation had shared with him. "He destroyed me, and I will destroy him this time around." He had laughed at Kiku for depending on a girl for inspiration, and had been stunned when Kiku slapped him full in the face.
The war had been going south at that time. There were so many military dead that Alfred's own people were calling for withdrawal. The World War II veterans – those who were still alive attached to machines – shouted, "Remember Pearl Harbor!" That was a long time ago, Alfred kept telling them. It's over and done. Then suddenly in the middle of the war, Young-ho, the long-lost twin brother of Young-soo, invaded his brother's house. There was so much confusion and devastation Alfred didn't even want to think of the numbers. One of the oldest houses in the world descended into civil war, and everyone, even Yao watched silently. Then it happened.
Young-ho killed Kiku. It was by the atomic bombs that all the nations had told him not to create, but he used them anyway. Alfred had watched on television as the atomic bombs rained down of his beloved friend, leaving nothing in its wake. Everyone had died. There was nothing left but ashes and bareness of the body that had belonged to his friend. He remembered feeling numb, then rage, at what happened. Alfred even thought about bombing the both the twins and Yao in a fit of rage and grief, but he remembered what he had promised Kiku before he left for war.
"America…promise me…you'll take care of my brothers. …Even though I'm the youngest, and they probably will never forgive me for what I've done…and continue to do…please take care of them and protect no matter what happens."
Why did I make that promise? Alfred thought wildly as Yao entered the room. Why? At the corner of his eye, Alfred saw that Yao was smiling – still in his euphoric glee at winning a war – and seemed relatively healed from his wounds. Why? He saw as Yao approached Young-soo – who quite literally rejoined his brother – as the two began chatting. So much…isn't right. The other nations also seemed distressed. Italy was crying. Germany was sullen and didn't speak – not that he did, but still. France was unusually observant and didn't flirt with anyone. Greece was noticeably absent. Alfred had no idea how, but somehow Kiku had a closer relationship with Greece than he did with him. Alfred had only been a bit jealous. Greece hadn't just not come to the meeting. He had refused to. Ivan was nowhere to be seen, and Author was still in the hospital, in a coma. He too had been hit with an atomic bomb. The twin, Young-ho, had tried to kill Alfred too after he killed Kiku. The atomic bomb miscalculated, and it hit Arthur instead. Alfred felt sick. He watched as Yao and Young-soo talked to each other without a care in the world. As if their little brother wasn't missing. As if he wasn't dead. Why couldn't they forgive him? Alfred thought, getting angrier and angrier by the moment. He abruptly stood.
"Yes?" Yao asked. In a way, the nation reminded Alfred of Kiku – the way his eyes never revealed anything – but the thought made his eyes water.
"Why did you do it?" Alfred yelled. Now Yao's eyes widened. "Why did you have to kill him? It's been so long since the war!"
"30 million, America!" Yao yelled back. He was so angry the panda on his back scurried away. "30 million, and he never apologized! Have you any idea what kind of pain I've been in? Besides, you were attacked too!"
Don't remind me! "It's been eighty years since that time! He's changed since then!" Alfred swallowed thickly, realizing that he had talked about Kiku in the present tense. But using the past tense would be too much for him to say. "So have you! You're not under the communist dictator anymore!"
"It's one hundred years, America, and don't forget that he brainwashed his citizens to believe in his heathen gods and filthy emperor! He refused to acknowledge what he had done! Murdering 30 million of my people! That stain never goes away!"
"He used our women too!" Young-soo added. The cheerful teenager was replaced by someone whose face had long-held rage and pain on his face. "He didn't apologize either! I thought, you would understand, America! He wasn't he friend you thought he was! He was a monster!" Young-soo's face turned into a snarl. "If he wasn't going to apologize, then –"
"Don't you dare say it." Alfred was eerily calm. He didn't know how that came to be. A moment ago, he thought he would explode. Now thoughts of Kiku, his friend who had been by his side since they had forgiven each other, flowed through his mind. Kiku, always giving him gifts whenever they met. Kiku, always polite and yet also strangely awkward. Kiku, who was always the mediator whenever he got himself in a sticky situation. Kiku, who always thought of Yao and Young-soo as his brothers even despite of what he did to them, and who wanted Alfred to protect. Kiku, with a sad smile on his face as he said goodbye to Alfred one last time.
"Don't you dare say it! You could have accepted what had happened and forgiven him, you know! But no, you had to kill him for what happened one hundred years ago! He was your brother! Don't you always say that blood is thicker than water or something?" All the nations were staring at Alfred from his outburst. They had never heard such anger from him before. "Well, don't you?" Yao and Yong-soo stared at him, both of their eyes widening as each processed his words. "I don't know why you fought over those islands anyway," he said with a sigh. He was spent. Alfred closed his eyes to stop the memories to keep on coming…but they kept on coming.
"Actually, America, we fight over a couple of islands too." Canada. "They're called –"
Alfred walked out the door.
As the tall man looked out at the sun, he thought about the friend who was no longer here on this beautiful earth. How Alfred ached for Kiku. He would do anything to hear his voice again. But that was impossible now. He was dead. Alfred thought about the short dark-haired man again, wondering where he was now. Was the pain as he died bad? Or was there no pain at all? Alfred's will began to fade as he thought of the last time he had been with Kiku – who was relaxing for once. "Isn't this a pretty sunrise, Kiku? It's like it's telling us that it's happy!" Alfred hadn't remembered what Kiku had said, but suddenly the words came to him.
"Yes, America. Perhaps the sunrise is reflecting of how we truly feel." Alfred hadn't any clue what Kiku was talking about then, but he understood now. It was too late though. Alfred felt his legs fall beneath him. His glasses fell, the sound of them cracking against the pavement. Alfred didn't even care that despair was coursing through his veins. He didn't care at all. Not anymore. Kiku… Alfred thought. Oh, Kiku… Tears were coursing down his cheeks. Kiku…! The once-proud nation of the United States of America sobbed, unashamed
