I kept the plushy of panda for me. It was almost my size, with the whiff of mothballs of something that had been in the closet for decades.
My recovery was gradual, but steadfast. As soon as he got sure that I would be fine, in an bout of goodness, Russia gave some days free for the Baltics, which visibly (dark circles, meagerness, loss of hair, etc.) needed it. Soon the New Year came; I gifted Russia with a scarf of a manlier color and a handmade book I had written along the last year, with the translation of my favorite Brazilian poems and tales. I received from him an unusual pickaxe – "You never know when you'll need it", he commented. I also made scarfs (the only thing I can knit, because it's straight) to Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania, but I only could deliver it when they came back, after Christmas[1].
I didn't get sick again in that winter. He did; he got a cold after the encounter with General Winter, but got healed soon – for the sake of the steadiness of the house, which shook every time he sneezed. Russia wouldn't let me mess with snow anymore, but sometimes he would take me for a ride in the sleigh, and to do something outside of the house, so I wouldn't get crazy with the confinement. That's how I knew St. Petersburg, the Urals, and Vladivostok – my visit wouldn't be complete if I hadn't seen this place. And, of course, Moscow, where I visited the Kremlin, the famous and colored St. Basil Cathedral, and watched a show in the Bolshoi Ballet. Honestly, there are other dances manlier in that country.
Spring wasn't as flowery there as it is in Brazil, because flowers don't blossom in the mud; but as the summer grew nearer, the land succeeded in drinking all the melted snow, and the sunflowers started to dot the fields, what increased considerably Russia's good humor. He left the books and entertained in the idacha/i, and with other outdoor activities, always carrying me with him, naturally. He had an enormous care for me; sometimes I thought that he considered me sort of a mascot, even Russicat was jealous of me – albeit I was the first to cosher that strange, colossal and scarier-than-his-owner cat.
Lithuania had a different opinion.
– Mr. Russia treats everybody like that, as if they belonged to him – he said, someday. – But I like you are here, you do him good. He's much more tolerant, with us, I mean, and it's been a whole month since he last talked about invading someone, have you noticed?
I would often chat with Lithuania, mainly in the times when Russia isolated himself and I had no one to talk with, what would happen sometimes, always of a sudden. Of all countries that served Russia, Lithuania was the one I would get along better, we had become close friends. In that afternoon, in the end of the summer, we were sat with my panda by the door of the house, observing Russia, the other two Baltics and Kazakhstan playing volley, while I helped Lithuania to sew Ivan's coat and socks.
– Yeah – I said. – Albeit you fear him for nothing, Toris… – I started, but he made me shut up with a gesture, and turned his back to me.
– Lift my shirt – he spoke, quietly. I did it. His back had long and white scars.
– É – eu disse. – Se bem que vocês tem medo dele à toa, Toris... – eu comecei, mas ele me fez calar com um gesto, e deu-me as costas. Remaining of whipping welts. I shuddered.
– It was he...? – I muttered in disbelief. Toris shook his head "yes".
– Do you think that when he says he's gonna drag someone tied to a horse or whatever, this is slapdash threatening? – he said, siting straight. – As naturally as he says, he does. It's true that he hasn't beaten me lately. After all, I spent a long time in America's house. Since I came back he has left me quiet… relatively.
I watched Russia playing with the ball, happy, in the most complete innocence. I knew he was cruel sometimes, but seeing him like that, it was hard to believe… What did not stop me from feeling sad and disappointed.
– I can't believe he does it for bad – I said. – I think he simply… don't have a good perception of the iothers/i. Sometimes I have the impression that he lacks a screw in the head – I added, resting my chin on my hands.
– Quite probable – Lithuania agreed, stopping his work for a while to look at Russia too. – You know, Mr. Russia's history is a bloodbath, torture and misery. Because of the wars and the very chiefs he had, he suffered an awful lot. I think this made him to… lose the notion of the limits of pain or something, and of his own strength. I don't know if he understands that we're not all so wakeless.
Toris idea makes sense. However:
– The history of all European countries is also full of wars and other unleashed bloodlettings – I objected.
– And which of them is normal? – Lithuania asked, with a smile.
– Germany always looked quite reasonable to me... – I answered, embracing my knees.
– He invaded Russia twice in the last century. Who in their perfect mind would do that?
In the game, Ivan had just stroke the ball in a way that he almost straightened up Kazakhstan slant eyes. Yeah, Lithuania was right. I sighed.
– But as I said – he spoke, maybe in order to comfort me – your friendship has a positive influence on him. He had been wishing to imitate America's manners, and it was not working, he was just getting ridiculous and frustrated. And Mr. Russia frustrated is something that no one likes to see – Toris shuddered. – Your interest increased his self-esteem. I think he will end up much better if you stay here. He likes you a lot, because no one ever liked him for what he is, except… Natasha – Toris finished, blushing.
I grinned inside. He was talking about Belarus. Lithuania had a crush the size of a precipice on her. There goes something I can't understand: the git is afraid of Russia, but likes his sister, which is quite worse!
– Do you really think I could change him? – I asked, remembering the conversation I had with Ivan in that other night. Toris smiled.
– Human beings can change many things, as soon as they dedicate to it with all their strenght – he said, and couldn't add anything else, because Russia was coming to us with a large smile.
– Come play with us, you two! – he ordered.
– I have to finish this sewing, Mr. Russia – Lithuania protested.
– You have the whole autumn ahead to make it. I won't need it until the winter, anyway. Come – saying that, he lifted me by the waist, with the panda and all, and pulled Lithuania by his wrist, dragging us to the battl… ops, game field. – You will have to stay in the other team because I already have a short person in mine, alright, Erikushka? – he said, pointing at Latvia with his chin. – I'm sorry – "You won't be sorry in the end of the game", I thought, foreseeing the scores, but said nothing.
In fact; I'm a terrible déficit to any team, even in button soccer[2]. So that, however Estonia and Kazakhstan were good players, they couldn't compensate my flaws; and, naturally, Russia's mood got better when he won the game, what let everybody happy; sweaty, red and laughing, we went to have some snacks.
– See, Erikushka, you and Kazak look beautiful after a sun bath – Russia said, helping himself some gooseberry juice and observing me. – We other are red like roasted pigs – he laughed pleasantly, contagiously, so that we all started laughing too.
– Yeah, it's seems like I'm worthy for something – I shrugged.
– I bet you're better in football – said Latvia, shyly, trying to comfort me from my fail master in the volley. I laughed, and I was going to answer him not to put his hope on it, when the doorbell rang.
– I'm going! – Estonia shouted, forgetting his manners, in the relaxed atmosphere. He received a stern look from Russia and went immediately to answer the door.
When he came back, his face was upset, and he was trembling from the tiptoes to the top of the head. He had a letter in his hands. Without saying anything, he handed it to Russia. Ivan read the letter, and his smiling face did not change a comma, but everyone knew that the thing was serious, because he said softly:
– Blin! – and, after a while, he left the table, vanishing inside the house.
In order to understand what was going on, we need to come back a little and examine what had happened in Europe in this meanwhile. The idea of attacking Brazil had been boiled a little longer, but soon despised, what I had learned from Russia's spies. On the other hand, Europe's economy was practically jumping off a building, and since the United States also could not help much, because America was facing his own monetary problems, Europeans had turned his back on him and turned their mouths against each other, starting a session of blaming and offending that could not result in anything good. Until the moment when Portugal gave a tremendous – and deserved – slap on Romano's face, and Spain horned his back, in reply. France came to aid Portugal and England started to beat France. In this meanwhile, Veneziano had already gone ask Germany to help, but he refused, until the moment when Poland treaded on his minor toe, thinking he was hitting England, and Germany entered in the war, shooting everywhere, bringing with him Austria and the Netherlands. The thing became hell, and since one month ago they were fighting, all against all. We already knew those facts, and Russia had announced his steady purpose of not getting involved this time. He was very well where he was, in the moment.
However, war persecuted him. Estonia had gone after Russia, so the rest of us leaned to read the letter that was on the table. It was written in a multitude of different letters and said the following:
"We're going to catch you, BASTARDO. Retour La MiTAd dell'Europa that you occupy, betrunkene Schwein! TUDO O QUE SE COLOCAR NO NOSSO CAMINHO SERÁ DERRUBADO."[2]
It bore no signature, but it was not needed.
Even the sunflowers got pale in that afternoon.
[1] Keep in mind that Russian Christmas is commemorated in January 7th, and it's an essentially religious party. They commemorate New Year like we do with Christmas, with food, gifts and all.
[2] "We're going to catch you, bastard. Give back the half of the Europe that you occupy, drunken pig. Everything that is put in our path will be knocked down." Europeans thought of solving their problems uniting against a common enemy. Many of them don't consider properly European those countries that have lands in Asia too (like Russia and Turkey), so Russia would be surely the chosen one, considering Hidekaz's joke of "everything is Russia's fault anyway". Please don't misinterpret it: about the war, I don't think that this would happen in reality. I just thought it was a good literary resource, 'cause as Russia is such a militarized country, I needed a war for the story, in order to show some shades of his personality.
If you leave me a review, saying what you think about the story, I would be very glad.
