Someone said Russia/Letty... but I figured Russia/Yuka would work more?
By the way, I apologize that some people write Yuka as "Yuuka". Actually, the majority of people write her name as such. But I'm used to 'Yuka'. Again, sorry.
This pairing seems much more likely than France/Remilia or Egypt/Yukari, yes?
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Touhou Project. I'm not Himaruya or ZUN, and I don't have the desire to be.
Madrid was warm. Ivan liked warmth.
He was sick and tired of being surrounded by snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. It was a word he grew to dislike; similar to when you repeat the same word over and over, and it beings to change from a word in the English language to just a garbled mess of letters put together. You grow sick of it. And Ivan was sick of snow. He was also sick of words like "Siberia ", "winter", "Communist", (He wasn't a Soviet anymore, you say? Not like the population of the Western world knew that!) "Cold" and "ice". These words had drilled themselves into the Russian's skull and stayed there, just to be a burden for the tall man. Not to say he loathed his homeland, just the weather conditions of it. Moscow got warm in the summer but it never satisfied him. It was no Rome or Berlin, no Belgrade or Paris, no Athens or Lisbon. It got warmer but there was always that chill that remained. It got cold and lonely fast when fall change into winter. It was as if He himself chose to curse the Russian man of never finding warmth in his homeland, unless he wished to disguise himself as a Serbian or Belarusian and get closer and closer to some warmth.
This is why he loved Madrid. Not only was it very warm, but the people! So very nice! They lived with not a care in the world. Ivan wished he could live like this much more often. No stress from his boss or sisters, no teasing from people he disliked via email, just smiles and sun kissed skin and…
Sunflowers. Sunflower fields. Sunflower fields with Ivan not dressed in his bulky coat and giant boots with a dog-eared cap, but a t-shirt and shorts, maybe even barefoot, with the brightest smile on his face, brighter than he ever smiled before. And there he was now; no t-shirt and shorts, still that jacket and boots he wanted to burn with fire as strong as one thousand suns, but he was in a sunflower field. A trail meandering through the sunflowers, the trail made of dirt and gravel, to the other side of this field that seemed as big as the Prussian Army. He could enjoy this peaceful getaway before he had to go back to his hotel.
Except there was a strange-looking human standing right in the middle of his haven.
Ivan wanted to walk through this sunflower patch and just take in the sight; he'd feel less distressed at the world around him, no cares in the world, maybe he could feel less Russian and more like a Spaniard, more like a man who seemed to live with no troubles in his life. But there was that figure in the way; a frail looking person, probably a woman, standing in with her back turned to him in the middle of the trail. She was actually walking – slowly, but surely, she was walking – with her hand extended out, touching the sunflowers and feeling them.
With a heavy tread, Ivan put on that darling smile of his, a mix of insanity, threat and intimidation, all tied into the smile a child would give his or her parents. He deliberately dragged his feet and stomped down, trying his best to make his presence know before the called out to the woman, "Hello! The sunflowers are very pretty, yes?"
The woman turned around, looking at the tall Russian. No surprise, fear, or any other vulnerable emotions clear on her, just simple curiosity at this man who seemed to appear just suddenly.
"Yes," she said in a gentle tone, not even her voice showed any trace of being startled, "They're very pretty. Very well kept too, even though these appear to be on public property. This city takes care of their plants well."
Ivan was slightly taken aback that the woman wasn't frightened. Then, he finally observed her properly; Red eyes with green hair were the first things that stood out about her. And she was surprisingly pale, brought out even more with her sparkling eyes and shocking hair colour. Her outfit was just as eccentric, plain white shirt with an overcoat coloured red with a plaid design. She wore a skirt, with the same plaid red design, all the way down to her ankles. Ivan couldn't see her feet, but he was sure her shoes were probably red, just to fit with this colour scheme. She held and umbrella, white but not shockingly white, and it almost looked like it had a petal design; the tips of it given a petal look, curled up just a bit, similar to that of a poppy. What a strange looking girl, says the man with violet eyes and a Red Army inspired coat.
He didn't let his surprise get to him. Keeping that bright, almost crazy smile, he continued to speak. "I love sunflowers. They are so pretty and calming to look at, yes?"
The woman smiled up at him. If there was one thing she should be shocked at, it was the height difference! She must've been five feet tall with a couple of inches on her, but Ivan looked like a lumbering giant compared to her. "They are. I grow my own, I like looking outside and seeing a couple of sunflowers scattered around. Not just sunflowers, but other plants as well."
"I can't grow sunflowers where I live," Ivan said, then shut off. The cuteness of him seemed to fade, replaced with a lost look of sadness. Oh, how emotional he gets when discussing the state of his living condition. "They would wilt and die. If I'm lucky, someone sells it in a flower shop, usually in the summer, but I don't want to try my luck with growing them. They could wilt, and I couldn't bear to see such precious plants die."
"That's a shame," The woman said, "I have perfect living conditions for a sunflower to live in. It can get so warm where I live, and they love the warmth. People complain, but I get used to it."
"Where do you live?" Ivan asked.
Her smile fell, changing into a blank look. Confusion lined her face; she had to think of where to say she was from. "I live in a town," She said slowly, "That's cut off from the rest of the world. It likes living in the time of simple lives. It's a lifestyle of things like shrines and believing in gods that decide your fate. It's not bad, but very different from life in this country."
Ivan blinked a few times, and then smiled. "That sounds very strange; I couldn't imagine living in such conditions." What he wanted to way was Oh, how odd! I couldn't imagine living in such conditions again. I've been through that already when I was a young boy growing up with my sisters in the times when Toris and that dear Polish man were at their prime of life, and Prussia was still a country! But, this woman didn't need to know of his country status, yes? He didn't need her pulling out a phone to call the police and say "This man is unstable; he thinks he's a country!"
"Is it around here?" Ivan asked, "As in, nearby, in this country. Are you just visiting the capital?""No," she said, still slowly, "I'm on vacation; I guess you could say… A friend helped me get here." Her voice shook at the sound of 'friend'. Ivan didn't consider it.
"Well," The Russian said, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, trying to seem 'friendly' but really just bullying her, "I take it you've come a long way to see this land, yes?" "You could say that."
"Regardless, I feel as if we must become acquainted! My name is Ivan, (Said "Eh-vahn", putting emphasis on his name to bring out his Russian heritage, and yet the green haired woman didn't react to hearing a Russian being proud) what is your name?"
She stared at the zipper of his jacket; in her mind, she was curious as to why he was wearing such heavy clothing, and seemed so fine and comfortable, as if he was used to it. "My name's Yuka," she finally said. Was her name more complicated? Ivan thought upon this; maybe she had to think of her name in a translation from her homeland, maybe her name was more complicated and not in English. "It's nice to meet you, Ivan. I take it you really love the flowers here, for you haven't kept walking with me."
Ivan realized, she was right. They had stood in the same spot while they spoke, while they conversed, and neither made the movement of trying to walk, maybe even get away. But, it was okay; the view of the sunflowers was the same no matter where they stood. No matter where they'd look, the yellow plant would be there, at least sticking out from the corner of their eyesight. The Russian male smiled. "You are right, yes. But you like the sunflowers too, Yuka? They're darling little plants."
Yuka casted a glance towards the sunflowers, a glint of uncaring in her eyes… but still managed to hold the look of content. Bored but she was satisfied with what was around her, if that was possible. She turned a bit, and then grabbed the stem of one of the sunflowers. She ripped it from the earth, and then turned back to him. She still held the umbrella, but holding the sunflower with both hands.
"They are," Yuka said, "And they are very pretty. Did you know sunflowers represent loyalty and wishes?"
"Yes, I do."
"I like them, for that reason. They represent loyalty. And wishes, of course, but I focus on the loyalty part. I have a… I guess I would use the term 'bodyguard'; however I call her a gate guardian. For she guards my house."
Why was Yuka telling him this? After growing suddenly sombre, Ivan was slowly starting to care less and less as she spoke. "I have my own garden for sunflowers. Not just in the front yard, but I have a whole garden devoted to them. I have gardens for all flowers; tulips, daisies, roses, even dandelions. Weeds are unwanted plants. Dandelions aren't unwanted to me. So I count them as flowers. But they're all scattered around in my gardens. I have one garden for sunflowers."
Shit, this woman was a green haired, female version of him.
"I look at it a lot. But I just look at it. When I feel sad, it's when I go into the garden and sit there. It's like my place for me to get things off my chest, to cheer myself up. Since the flowers are gorgeous, it reminds me of how pretty life is." The ghost of a smile danced on her lips. Then it spread into a smile… or just a curved slit on her face, in place of a smile. It didn't look genuine at all. "But when I get sad, depressed, even, I don't feel good at all. I get sick and horrible images go through my head of doing things I wouldn't want to do ever in my life. So I go into the sunflower garden - it's huge, believe me - and sit there. Or stand. Or even lie down in it. Regardless, I go to my garden and feel at serenity. It tricks me into believing I'm in a beautiful world again." Yuka looked up at Ivan. "You know mental asylums, right? And the padded rooms patients are put in?"
Ivan nodded.
"Well, a sunflower field is nothing like padded rooms in asylums… but I treat my field as such. I go in there, and put myself to ease, and then I will leave. I can stay there for ages. Longest time I've been in my garden was two days. Two straight days. My gate guardian had to take a few minutes off to get me to wake up out of the daze I was in. In mental asylums, apparently they laugh and realize they're calmer now. Or trick themselves. Sometimes I laugh and put myself to ease. Most of the time I scream, though."
Ivan met her eyes. He was surprised with himself he wasn't scared and running from this obviously unwell woman - well, it was obvious she was unwell due to the fact she spoke of sunflowers as her ticket to sanity, or something close to sanity. It must be the fact he wasn't that sane either. Ivan wasn't the sanest man in the world, but he knew his limits, damn it, he knew the limits from reality and sanity and the loony bin. He was a crazy bastard sometimes, but other than that, he was normal. He knew when he was around other 'nutcases', as some people put it kindly, because they just seemed the same as him. But he wasn't surprised when he really… well, met them. It was more so like dull surprise; the kind of surprise someone gets when they snap both their legs in a freak car accident. You feel the pain, you can feel it, it's crawling up your and driving you mad because it hurts so much, but you're not very surprised, looking down at the broken twigs that were once your legs.
"After I'm done screaming," Yuka continued speaking, gazing off at the space next to Ivan's head. Something drove him to want to hold her chin so she looked at him. He wanted those red eyes meet his violet ones and stay there. "I get up and leave my sweet sanctuary. If I get bored, I'll look at the garden from my room."
But it doesn't work right, does it? Ivan thought in his head, If you get bored, if you're happy but just bored because there's nothing to do that day, your eyes will wander outside. You'll see the sunflowers, and you'll admire them. But then you'll be reminded the world isn't as pretty as them. The world is ugly and you'll realize - again - that flowers are more gorgeous than the world. And even when they wilt, you can replant them. A wilting flower is ugly, so it's not hard to get replaced. But you can't replace a human being, can you? Can you, Yuka? Neither of us can. It's a shame. So when you look at your sunflower garden, you'll be reminded of the ugly word and all the screams and panic attacks you had there. You'll be reminded of it and then you'll sink into another depression about how you were once depressed like this before. And then you had to scream out your depression, laugh in a frightened matter at what you've become. From the looks of it, you get worse every day, and I just met you. I think you and your guardian both know this, Yuka, since I presume she knows you better than I do.
Ivan held out his hands, and put them on her shoulders. Heavy hands pushed down on her (Bad habit of his) while Yuka stared up at him, the girl's 'smile' now gone, no longer on her face, while she looked curiously into his eyes. He spoke, his voice heavy and lingering in the air, "You have a sweet sanctuary. Even if looking back at your adventures in your sanctuary depresses you, think of it as a blessing. I cannot grow a sanctuary of sunflowers. It's not that I don't have the patience; I would do so if I could, it's the weather. The weather in Russia is ruining my chances of growing a gorgeous garden."
Yuka kept looking at him. "Are you worried you won't have a place to fall back on and use as a spring every time you trip when you finally snap for good?"
"Yes, I am."
Yuka took his hands off her shoulders. The smile grew back, and again it was just a curved slit on her face. And Ivan met her fake smile with a fake smile of his own, another perfect line on his face with no emotion put into it. Yuka held Ivan's hands in her own, her umbrella falling down to the ground, neither of them caring for the discarded accessory. They gazed up at each other, smiling and holding each others hands. They wouldn't call this love; it would be a blooming friendship, like the flowers around them while growing.
"Then you can join me, then," Yuka said, "In a sanctuary filled to the brim with flowers."
"I would appreciate that."
"And by the way," Yuka said slowly, the words flowing from her mouth without a care, "I'm not a human. I am what you would call a youkai."
"And I'm a country," Ivan said, "I am the embodiment of Russia."
Yuka laughed. And so did Russia. They both gave terrified laughter, both of their cackles echoing around the field, and the laughter growing louder and louder, mixed with the growing mental insanity between the two and the echoes. They gripped each other's hands tighter, throwing their heads back and smiling even wider. It wasn't true smiles, there was still hurt and depression in the both of them, but both smiles were going crazier and wider, so more crazy laughter could be emitted, Russia and Yuka's Asylum of Sunflowers now belonging to the two. Man and woman, youkai and nation, insane man and insane woman. It was like a grotesque match made in heaven.