I don't own Hetalia
It's just after midnight when she realises something is amiss.
Her apartment in Kiev is small and could be described as bare, but it is home. However, her distinct lack of furnishings has nothing to do with the apparent tension, and she frowns, confused. Perhaps she is tired. After all, it has been a long day; the meeting with her colleagues and her siblings successful but exhausting.
But there's something ominous in the air that she can't explain, and it makes her nervous. Yet, she doesn't understand it, and so she dismisses it, and goes back to pouring her tea.
Almost an hour later, she lies in bed, unable to sleep. Her empty cup sits on the bedside table next to her, and in the light of the moon, she can see the time. The ticking of the clock taunts her insomnia but she ignores it, other things on her mind.
The ache in her chest is increasing, she feels sick, a deep, rumbling nausea that seems to poison her mind. She has never felt this way before, or, at least not in a very long time, and she wonders with a heavy heart exactly what is happening.
Suddenly, an blaring alarm sounds in her ear, and she bolts upright. Her vision spins at the abrupt change in position, and she looks dizzily around her room, searching for the source of the sound. When nothing presents itself, she grimaces and holds a hand to her forehead. Impossible. Where did the noise come from?
She lets out a deep shuddering sigh, trying to dispel her illness with a fresh burst of air, to no avail.
A few minutes later, she lies back down, wincing at the pain in her stomach.
Something is very wrong.
The silence is deafening, only broken by her occasional unsteady breaths as she tries to calm herself. The smell of the vomit on the floor rises to her nose as her stomach turns and she heaves again.
She shakes as she wipes her mouth, and looks at the clock from the corner of her eyes. Almost twenty five past one. Suddenly, she feels herself begin to heat up, like a fever developing rapidly, and her eyes widen. Her sight becomes clear for a moment before water clouds it, and she shakes again.
She slowly pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, lying on her side.
This time, she doesn't react when the noises of blurred voices echo in her ears, such a jumble of words that she cannot make out what they are saying. They are deep voices, and she knows they are men - and this time, she is aware enough to know also that these are her children. She has done this before, been forced to experience their lives for some moments, and she can only assume the alarm earlier was apart of this.
The voices grow angrier, and she tries to pay attention. However she feels so, so hot, and it makes it hard to concentrate.
And then, the heat is gone. She blinks in shock, and for a moment, all is calm.
Then, a deep roar sounds, and she looks around the room in sudden fear, unsure whether she was still in her own reality or theirs.
"What was that?" One of the voices suddenly makes sense, and she can't help but desperately agree with him.
The atmosphere is full, heavy, and she gasps in fright when another, louder explosion (because that is all it could possibly be, nothing else could make that sort of sound) rocks her world, and she can feel herself moving with the aftershocks, despite not being anywhere near the blast radius.
The rumble continues, and the voices are back, shouting orders and demands, and she can understand them all.
Her body keeps shaking as she listens, and she can only partially hear the pained groans she is producing. Her very bones strain and screech, her muscles feel stretched, and her head feels like it has been impaled upon a serrated knife.
If she had full control of her mental faculties, she would be terrified.
She waves in and out of consciousness, before eventually succumbing to the darkness.
There is light streaming in her window the next time she wakes. Her eyes open to the white, before she shuts them again, as it makes her feel queasy. However, she opens her eyes again when she remembers that she sees something else, and she has to blink a number of times to wet her dry eyes.
She makes a gasping noise when she realises who exactly is sitting in a chair at her bedside.
"B-B-Br..." Her face morphs painfully when she tries to speak, and a large hand pats her shoulder gently.
"Shhh, sestra. Don't speak, da?" She still tries again, and when nothing audible manages to escape her swollen throat, she gives up. She searches, looking for those familiar violet eyes that matches the voice she can hear. Eventually, she locks her stare on him, and gazes imploringly. She prays that he understands her unspoken question and when he sighs regretfully, she knows he does. But with his reaction, she isn't sure she wants to know.
"Sestra... there has been an incident, da?" He pauses for a moment to blink slowly, and then glances away for a second. She notes both the soft and slowness of his speech, and the sharp pain in her head. "Just a minor one."
She senses, even with her impaired mental prowess, that he is skirting around the topic, attempting to avoid conversation. She furrows her brow, not in confusion, but in vague annoyance. He understands.
"At Chornobyl."
This time, her facial expression is in confusion. The power plant? She knows of it of course, as it is on her land, but she never really involves herself in the scientific exploits of her children - regardless of their usefulness. Granted, they are fascinating, but she finds the running of such things to be tedious, and with all her work and duties as a nation she rarely has the time to sit down and indulge her academic interest. If she remembers correctly, it produces nuclear energy.
However, that just raises more questions. What sort of incident could her brat be referring to? When the power plant (along with others) had been built on her land (under orders of the superiors in Moskva), she had been assured that the best technology would be put in place insuring there would be no danger present to harm her people. After reading some information on the process of using radioactivity, she had been wary; but her brat's people had calmed her concerns. They were highly educated in the technology, and would in turn teach their expertise to her children so they could operate it themselves. There would be nothing to worry herself about. Enough energy would be produced to supply her land in droves, and in turn much money would be saved. It was an excellent discovery.
So what could possibly be wrong? And... minor? She couldn't help but question this. If it's only a minor incident, then why is her brat here telling about it, instead of simply reading a report in Moskva? And he would not mention it if it was not related to her current condition. She has her suspicions that it was indeed what is causing her illness.
"B-Brat?" Her throat is extremely dry, and she coughs. Or attempts to, as when she tries to force the air out, she realises something is in her mouth. Her eyes widen and her jaw automatically bites down on the intruder. A squeal of pain erupts when she clamps down on her own tongue. It... it was her tongue? This massive thing in her mouth, blocking words and air from achieving access was her tongue? How could this be...?
What was WRONG with her? She is sure the fear shows in her eyes, and when her brat tries to sooth her once more, she begins to struggle. Her back aches from a lack of movement, and as she wonders exactly how long she has been out, her panic increases. When she feels the heavy blanket that is draped over her, her body starts feeling claustrophobic, and she begins to keen frantically. The more she moves, the more the sheer agony in her entire body becomes apparent.
It is when she brings up her arm in front of her face to ward off her fawning younger brat that she freezes. What is... this? Her tearful eyes study her (arm?) with morbid curiosity and some repulsion - she understands why Rossiya is here, why she feels so utterly rotten, and why what her brat describes as a 'minor incident' is precisely the opposite.
Every centimetre of her skin was a mottled black. The few visible pieces of what should be a pale peach was a dull grey. It looked so wrong, so false - as if she had bathed in water dirtied by coal dust. Her other hand (a mirror image of its tainted partner) ran fingers along her forearm. The skin felt leathery and dry, but smooth. Too smooth.
When she looks back to him, he is once again sitting down. This time, she sees the tired, haggard man he is trying to conceal.
"Brat." With some effort, she is able to speak, but the words are slurred. However, he understands. "What - what has happened to me?"
She needs to know. She looks around her familiar bedroom while he tries to form an answer.
"Chornobyl has... The fourth reactor..." He swallows, and she sits up to lean against the hard headboard, ignoring her sore and protesting body.
"An explosion... the fourth reactor in the station exploded. It was caused by a power surge. Now... now, the resulting radiation has escaped into the environment." He stops.
"When?" Her voice is hoarse, but it makes him continue. Out of misplaced guilt, perhaps.
"Over - over a week ago." She is even more shocked - if that is possible. He begins to mutter in response to her silence.
"They said, they said it isn't serious, it isn't that bad. It feels horrible - but they said it isn't bad. It isn't bad. Not bad. My sestry are fine. They are just sensitive, that is all. Sensitive."
This would be the first of many times in the next decade she questions without jest as to the state of her brat's mind.
"What do you mean, sestry? What is wrong with Bilorusiya?"
No answer.
"Ivan! What is wrong with Natalya?" Her voice is louder this time, and seems to pierce his shell.
"The same as you, sestra. However, she has been awake longer. But you shouldn't worry. They say it isn't bad. Isn't serious."
His words grow higher in pitch until they have reached his usual, childish tone. And she knows no matter what happens, her brat's faith in his people is unwavering. It both endears and scares her. Not only because it means he has something, someone to believe in - but also because it makes him blind to their faults. Faults that means she can feel her blood rushing through her veins, burning each cell individually. Faults that has taken her humanity and twisted it into the mutated being she can feel herself becoming.
Because nations know things that no one else does. And Ukraïna knows she can be certain of a few things, as her mind shrivels into a strange, shadowed version of itself. Like the fact this has changed her life as she knows it.
She can feel the lack of weight on her chest, and she has noticed that her blue nightgown is no longer straining at the seams. Her breasts have shrunk. They are still well above the average size, but she notices the change, and is worse off for it, and what it means. Because her large breasts were the symbol of her country's spectacular fertility, and the health of the land. The land is sick.
Her preoccupation overrides any remaining familial emotions she may have towards her siblings, and so she doesn't notice her brat floating off into higher thought, into the insane little murmurs that only reaffirm his undying loyalty to the regime. She is left to her musings - well, the ones which remain coherent under the relentless battering of the acid.
When she tries to describe it to herself, the only thing that comes to mind is fungus. Like mould, creeping into the cracks and weakening the entire structure. Corrupting everything it touches.
Corrupting her.
She doesn't know how long it is until she gathers up the courage to do what has to be done. It takes a long - so, so long - time to organise her loose and random thoughts into clear visions of what she needs to do; what has to be done.
It is with great and terrible reluctance that she reaches out in her head, to the farthest corners of her land. In her mind's eye, she ghosts over countless cities, towns, and villages - and the closer she gets the more she can feel her dearest children's torture. Inedible food. Undrinkable water. Spoiled crops. Ill children. All falling to an invisible foe, one they cannot see but fear more than the plague.
She shares with them their turmoil. The loss of an unborn child, the withdrawal of the mother. A farmer's despair at the destruction of his livelihood. A young child's innocent confusion at the demand she drinks none of the water, as her grandmother is sick and her parents don't know what to do.
She arrives at Prypyat, and it is empty. The people are gone, and it has become a town of phantoms - yet, despite the lack of living things in the city, she can still feel the sheer wrongness emitted. It physically stings, her stomach muscles clench and her eyes begin to water.
This close, she can feel the radiation itself. The many tonnes of sickening waste left to the open air, dancing in a carefree wind and infecting whatever it manages to touch. The excess that was released, seeping into the earth and shaping it into a new, disgusting thing that kills and mutilates its victims not violently, but biologically. Some will survive, but they will not be human. They will be something else, the remnants of a family ended by the recklessness of the people who were meant to protect them.
When she opens her eyes once more, she wonders if this is what it feels like to die.
Ukraine's point of view of the Chernobyl disaster which took place on the 26th of April, 1986.
This has always fascinated me, still does, and I just had to do a Hetalia version.
-Ukraine is suffering from radiation sickness. The symptoms are swelling of soft tissues such as the tongue, the skin turning black, and the very cells mutating. The DNA of some sufferers (before they die) is altered so much that they can no longer be classed as human.
-The official reports even to this day are very incorrect, downplaying the incident tremendously. Because the USSR had such a totalitarian grasp on its people, and Russia is the personification on the people (not just the government), I believe he would believe most - if not everything - that they say. Because they downplayed it, Russia would believe it was not serious, despite the condition of his sisters.
-Belarus was the second most affected country after Ukraine, as Pripyat (and the plant) is very near the Ukrainian-Belarusian border. Therefore, she would also be affected heavily (although not as much as Ukraine).
-Again, Russia is in denial. After Ukraine and Belarus, Russia was the most affected country. However, as he is being told everything is fine, he is ignoring the pain he is in.
-Pripyat was the worker's town where those who worked in the plant stayed. It was evacuated completely on the 27th of April, but for most of the citizens, that was too late. Many were already sick, and most would develop cancers, etc. later on in life. Two hours after the incident, people were complaining of illness. A day was too long a wait to prevent widespread sickness.
I hope this is well received, and if anyone has any questions regarding the incident, or the aftermath, please put it in a review.
Please, please review! This is my second historical!Hetalia after Pound of Flesh, and I would like to see how it is taken.
REVIEW PLEASE!