How dare he?
Indonesia squinted at the blinding sunlight. Those eyes were fixed on a piece of cloth fluttering on a pole way up there, on the roof of Yamato Hotel. That day was a raging inferno, but she did not flinch. The heat was not unusual to her anymore; she had lived with it for centuries. However, the blaze in her soul was a hundred times hotter and fiercer.
How dare he?
Indonesia was still glaring at that waving flag with burning with hatred, as if her stare alone could set it to fire. That accursed flag had just been raised not too long ago, but Indonesia knew that it had nothing to do in her homeland. That flag was not red and white as she first expected it to be, but there was a line of blue that spoiled the harmony.
How dare he? Who did he think he was?
A tanned hand fell on Indonesia's shoulder, trying to calm her down. Indonesia found an officer of army looking at her with concern. That officer was young, but his face showed composure and wisdom. Indonesia knew deep down he was nervous, he was one o the less lucky soldiers appointed to get into that accursed hotel and negotiate with her, and she knew that deep down, he was as angry as she was.
"Don't worry, we'll definitely show him his place."
They marched into the hotel and down the hotel into the conference room. Indonesia opened the double door before the footman could get it for her. She had wanted to storm in and yell at the western jerk that should be waiting inside. However, she had to enter gracefully, making sure he could feel that he was in HER home and at HER mercy. She had to show him that she was no longer the stupid girl he used to know, who could only hide behind his coattail. She, too, had changed, and the new Indonesia would not stand still watching her pride as a nation being stomped down.
Indonesia saw him standing beside the window, smoking, accompanied by several Dutch officers. His brows met in a frown and his lips were arrogantly curved downwards. The looks on his face showed his thought that seeing Indonesia didn't worth his time. The younger girl looked back at him deviously, determined to make him regret offending her so.
"I believe you have no business here, Sir," Indonesia's tone was overly civil.
His frown deepened, as if he didn't understand what she meant, and that everything was as it should be until Indonesia came in.
"Your flag has no right to stand in my territory. This is a free nation, belonged to me and my people. You don't even have the right to step a foot on this land."
He didn't flinch.
"Accept the truth. We are no longer your colony. Take down that flag at once."
He turned away and gave her his back, waving his hand, instructing her to leave.
"Holland, YOU!" Indonesia raised her fist, ready to charge. She didn't have her spear or any weapon at all, but she had to smack some sense into his head. She had to make it clear that he could not make her bend to his will anymore. All the emotion and hatred she felt towards him welled up in Indonesia's eyes. Three centuries ago, it was all adoration and compassion, but three hundred years were a long time, long enough to turn all the admiration towards a savior into a loathing for a bully, a colonizer.
"WATCH OUT!"
The young soldier who came with Indonesia pushed her towards the door while some other boys lunged at the few Dutch who were aiming their guns at her. A fight broke out. The hotel room soon became a battlefield except for the two nations who remained immobile—Indonesia was wide-eyed, staring at her former patron who was only glancing at her arrogantly from the edge of his sight, a few drops of tear betrayed the defense she had been building with so much effort to shut the other man out. Anger was overflowing from her soul.
Indonesia watched her men helpless fighting armed soldiers with bare hands, trying to seize the opponents' weapons and strangle them. She bit her lips, stomped her feet and fled the conference room. She ran out and up the emergency stair, fueled by none other than hatred and humiliation. She kept going up until she reached the top, pushing the trapdoor open with force and stepped out, finding herself under the pale blue sky that stretched above her homeland. She walked further on the flat roof of Yamato hotel, approaching the piece of cloth she despised so much. It was hung on a steel pole as tall as her—a Holland flag, shamelessly standing on Indonesian building, riding on Indonesian wind. Indonesia reached out for the edge of the cloth and violently ripped off the blue that did nothing but ruining the balance of red and white, then threw away the ripped tatter as far as the breeze would take it, away from the Indonesian land. Indonesia lifted her head, shrugging off the remnants of her tears. She stood proudly beside the waving flag that had got its pride back in the form of red bravery and white holiness, and yelled at her people down there who were looking up at her with hopeful eyes.
"FOR FREE INDONESIA!"
Way down there, a foreign figure slipped among the crowd and looked up with eyes full with wounded pride and a faint surge of a brand new one.