25th December, 1941
Stanley, Hong Kong
They're going to lose. He knows it.
Internally, Canada curses himself for bringing so little of his soldiers. England's boss said to expect five thousand of the Japanese. They're being hit with ten times that amount. It doesn't help that the majority of his soldiers are young and inexperienced, too. Being barely eighteen and having almost no idea how to even hold and shoot a rifle, they're like lambs to the slaughter.
He grips his rifle and aims at an opposing soldier, firing. The bullet hits its mark and brings the soldier down, but the moment he falls, another takes his place. Canada winces, hearing another shout from a soldier. He spares a second to turn, seeing him fall to the ground with a small red circle in his head. He's lost another one.
How many are left? Sweeping his eyes over the battlefield, the nation makes out a few members of his army. Three... four... five... six...
Ten remaining. Out of the one thousand five hundred who arrived at Hong Kong to fight, ten of them left. Another one falls, skewered in the gut by a bayonet. Nine remaining.
It's only been seventeen days, but the Japanese have already swept through almost all of Hong Kong. It won't be long until this city is theirs too. And to think England used to have an alliance with Japan, Canada thinks darkly. Well, looks like that went down the drain.
Canada sees India with his own troops, faring almost as badly. But, at least India has numbers, with around twice the number of troops he has. Canada isn't nearly as lucky.
England is at the docks, shouting commands to the meagre two boats floating in the sea. It's almost laughable, really: two boats fighting against Japan's eleven. Japan has an air force, too. Forty-seven planes whizzing above Hong Kong dropping bombs left and right.
The three countries exchange looks. They're far apart, absorbed in the haze of battle, but it's obvious they're thinking the same thing- it's no use.
A deafening boom is heard and England's gunboat erupts into flames, all the people on board shouting in alarm and jumping into the water. England curses, ordering the navy members to swim ashore and fight on land. He knows now that his and China's superiors had no intention to save Hong Kong in any way. He was left to defend for himself.
He remembers the year 1842, when Hong Kong Island was declared his colony by the Nanjing Treaty. Then 1860 when they received the Kowloon Peninsula. And 1898, when all of Hong Kong belonged to Britain. That was when Hong Kong became his adopted younger brother. And now the young city is on the brink of death, because his own leader doesn't want to save him.
As he helplessly watches the Japanese blaze through his Commonwealth's armies, his own men come to mind. He, Canada, India, China and Hong Kong have fourteen thousand soldiers in total, barely a quarter compared to the Axis nation's troops. It doesn't help that China and Hong Kong are too weak to fight, either. They might as well start waving a white flag.
"Kirkland!"
England turns at the mention of his human name. One of his remaining soldiers, battered and covered in wounds but very much alive, is waving to him. "They sent another issue for surrender to the Governor. If they give in, it's all over."
England stares at his soldier, then at the person leading the Japanese soldiers: a black-haired man- no, a boy- leading his men into a massacre. Face still blank and emotionless, like this is something as normal as brushing your teeth before bed is. Like this is something an average boy would do every day.
How Japan has changed: from the shy, isolated shut-in who refused to see anyone outside of Asia, to this cold and emotionless fighter who'd do anything for power. If only our alliance was still intact.
He glances briefly towards Canada and India, both countries starting to tire alongside their troops. We won't go down without a fight.
Meanwhile...
Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong
Hong Kong gasps as another wave of pain hits him. He takes another drink of water but almost chokes on it in the process. The young city feels nauseous, with agony hitting him again and again as the Japanese advance.
Macau spares him a glance, but turns away once he knows his brother's still holding up. The older city brings his attention to China, the oldest nation sitting in a dark corner. His body is heavily bandaged from wounds, back bent over from being racked by coughs and sobs. China, the two cities know, raised Japan as one of his own. They know that Japan was obsessed with the idea of growing stronger. They know that Japan struck China in the back with his sword before leaving.
They know that Japan used to be China's favourite brother.
Why else would he cry from his attacks?
China's left hand is the most heavily bandaged, flopped limply on the floor. Crippled during the lethal Nanjing Massacre, the deaths of three hundred thousand civilians have taken their toll on the nation. His left eye is patched, slowly losing its sight and throbbing with pain all the way. That's from Unit 731, where his former charge performs ruthless experiments on his people.
China wishes for it all to end, for his vision to fade and the blissful blankness to overcome his body. That way, at least the pain would be gone, and he wouldn't have to suffer any more. But as a country, as the personification of his people, he's blessed and doomed to live as long as his people last. He will feel every blow inflicted on his people, feel the pain his people feel.
Hong Kong gasps again as a coughing fit attacks him. Covering his mouth with his hand, his palm comes away red with blood. His heart starts pumping with the fear of the Japanese's victory, meaning endless suffering for his people. He opens his mouth. "Teacher?"
China looks up.
"Am I going to die?" Hong Kong asks.
Silence, for a moment.
China speaks, voice raspy from disuse. "Do you remember Dì Zi Guī?"
Hong Kong nods, remembering the old verses he was forced to memorise as a kid.
"Inside, they always said the same thing: family comes first. Next is your country. You yourself should be last in terms of priority. Japan..." the ponytailed nation chokes back tears. "Japan has defied this rule. Betraying his family, then letting his country commit such... atrocities. I wonder if I should still consider him my brother." He smiles bitterly. "Probably not, right? As for whether or not you'll survive... you are Chinese. You can live through anything."
"China," Macau presses. "Don't burden yourself with these thoughts. Please, you need to rest."
China obliges, but not before fixing Hong Kong with a hard stare, the same one he'd use when convincing him to do his homework. Even when weakened, he hasn't changed.
A scuffle breaks out in the office of the hotel, officials shouting among themselves. "The Governor has announced a surrender!"
Hong Kong feels numb. It's over.
I'm done for.
I'll be going through a living hell.
He watches as the Japanese officials and generals walk into the hotel. He sees the black-haired boy leading them. His cold, blank eyes. He notices the way China almost hisses when seeing him. He notices that the boy doesn't spare them a glance.
The treaty is signed in a matter of minutes before the Japanese leave. Hong Kong braces himself once again, braces himself for the pain he'll feel for as long as they stay here. His pain, and his peoples' pain. He wouldn't be surprised if he dies. Then, maybe he'll go to heaven.
Because right now...
Hong Kong knows that he's in hell.