**SCHOOL'S OUT, BITCHES! That means more writing, researching, and fangirling time! This chapter took longer than I thought it was gonna be but, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. But now that I just finished my last exam, I'm gonna go sleep for 12 hours.
Carry on, my wayward sons! (wrong fandom, I know)**
30 March 2017
Arthur made it off the ferry with very little conversation with Francis; obviously the stars have aligned for this to happen, he believed with a heavy huff. It mainly had to do with Kiku trying to keep up with different topics of discussion with him (poor lad, that's probably the most I've ever heard him speak) while Antonio just went on with being his happy, talkative self—of course, Francis wouldn't dare to interrupt his dear friend's busy chatter just to annoy or poke at Arthur a bit more.
He still felt Francis's spying eyes glimpse at his back or shoulder from time to time. It might have looked like an innocent glance to any witnesses surrounding them, but it felt like a drill penetrating through his brain. He grimaced and tried to be the two thousand-year-old man he was and ignore the prying eyes while honestly responding to Kiku's focuses of discussion.
He scanned the orange sky above them and the hectic streets of New York City. The countries around him either made their final goodbyes to one another with handshakes or friendly hugs or they started heading for the city, some going solo while others clustered together in small groups or pairs. He sensed Kiku's presence coming up behind him, so he turned around to properly face him.
"If it's strictly American food you seek," he informed him, "then you can purchase a nice size heart attack at nearly every street corner. Type two diabetes is also sold regularly here and I'm not entirely certain how you'll manage."
Kiku slipped in a tiny smirk as he combed his fingers through his long bangs. "You say such vulgar things about Mr. America's home—I think it's safe to say that you won't be staying here much longer?"
"That's right. My queen requested me back at the palace as soon as possible, which is why I am to board a plane first thing in the morning."
Though it was true that he booked a flight to London that departed at eight the next morning, it was false that his current queen demanded him to be back immediately. In fact, she even told him to take a break, to spend some time away from occupational matters.
And now, with visions of his deceased wife slowly taking control of his thoughts, he was exceptionally glad that he didn't directly obey his queen's orders—all he wanted right now was to go back home.
Kiku nodded. "Understandable. It seems like you are stuck with business at the moment, so I won't take too much of your time if you are to get up early tomorrow morning."
Arthur shook his head and started to tell him that there was nothing to worry about, but Kiku spoke before he had a chance to; his small eyes blinked at something behind Arthur's shoulder and his thin eyebrows raised in interest.
"Ah, I'm very sorry, but I would like to schedule appointments with Mr. Russia and China before they leave. One moment, please."
He turned his head to watch Kiku lightly jog over to the two countries who were exchanging notes with one another; they both were apparently on the same page as Kiku.
"So, your queen wants you back home, n'est pas?"[1]
The curious voice of Francis made Arthur clamp his teeth together in mild (but rising) irritation. He snapped toward him with an obvious look of disdain; Francis was looking at him with elevated eyebrows and an indistinct smile.
"Yes, she does, you eavesdropping pecker. I have other and more important matters to attend to."
Francis hummed and nodded in mock understanding, shoving his hands in his pockets. He casually rolled his eyes to the multicolored sky before landing them back onto Arthur.
"Which one are you returning to: Elizabeth I or Elizabeth II?"
He knew Francis was aware of his inner mourning of Elizabeth, but that snarky response totally threw him off and his jaw dropped in utter offence. He glared at him like how a lion would to a zebra, his fingernails digging deep into the leather handle of his suitcase.
"How dare you make such a revolting and cynical comment to me? Not to mention completely unnecessary," he growled, stepping toward him threateningly. He made sure to keep his voice low—there were way too many people here. "Why are you so persistent to get caught up in my personal dealings?"
"I usually find myself asking why I even try speak to you at all," Francis replied, that faint smile now gone. "But, believe it or not, I want to help you."
A snort escaped him as he stumbled back, honestly not believing what he just said. "You want to help me? My God, that is the stupidest thing I've heard all day. I didn't think it could be done, with the meeting and all, but congratulations, Frog: you've managed to top it all off."
A long and angry exhale blew out of Francis's nostrils, but he didn't break or snap back. "I'm being serious, Arthur. I know what you're going through and it is…" He temporarily closed his eyes to calm himself. "…very hard."
"You have no idea what I'm going through—you don't know anything."
"I know exactly what you're going through. Bottling up your emotions like this is only going to make things worse for you and besides, everyone here knows about you and Elizabeth, so what are you so desperately trying to hide?"
"No one was supposed to know! She just got upset is all; everyone kept poking and prodding for her to marry someone, so much that they thought something was wrong with her. [2] That wasn't her fault—she was just protecting me." Arthur was getting too caught up in the argument to realize what he was spilling out of his mouth.
"You're clinging to a memory, Arthur, a skeleton. If you won't let go, then the constant remembrance of her will consume you whole like a parasite. You'll be cut off from the outside world and all you'll ever feel—"
"She is not a parasite!"
His shout surprised them both as it reverberated and reached other ears. Most simply glanced up, recognized the two debaters, sighed deeply, and then returned to whatever it was they were doing. Apparently, Arthur and Francis have been personal enemies for such a long time that their arguments had become a force of habit for them to bear over the years. They always fight over something, so the wise have learned to avoid getting involved.
More self-conscious than ever before, Arthur bit on his tongue but quickly released it, not quite done with Francis yet. He stepped closer to him once more as he hissed through his teeth, "Your help isn't wanted, nor will it ever be. I forbid you to even speak her name—it sounds like pure vile coming from your mouth. Fuck off, ignorant bastard."
He went to turn sharply on his heel, but Francis grabbed his arm before he could get away. "This conversation isn't over yet," he growled back.
"And I say it is. Now unhand me." He tried yanking his limb back, but he felt Francis's nails sink through his jacket and into his flesh, the grip similar to that of a leech. Arthur gritted his teeth. "I said unhand me."
He saw the intense glare Francis gave him; it was like watching a nasty hurricane brewing at sea. "Listen to me just this once, you limey brat. There are things that I know that you don't, despite what your selfish brain might think. I know how to recover from the pain that comes whenever you lose someone dear to you. Apparently, you haven't learned that lesson yet; let me help you, dammit!"
"Give me one good reason why I should. Your own people haven't received this 'message' either; they don't even know what real love is. Speaking of which, how's that neck scar from your revolution healing up?"[3]
Francis jolted at the harsh insult, causing him to step back and loosen his grasp on Arthur's arm—he took the opportunity and jerked it back. With furrowed brows and a deep frown on his face, Arthur straightened and dusted his sleeve like Francis's touch was that of a corpse, leaving his skin cold and infested with maggots. He glared menacingly. "Are you done now?"
It took a moment, but Francis eventually replaced his hurt expression with a hard grudgeful stare. "I should've known that you were a hopeless cause," he mumbled, giving up. "Nothing can change your mind."
"Mr. Britain? Mr. France?"
A brave Kiku interrupted the bickering between the two countries; he came just in time before Arthur could hurl another verbal offense Francis's way. They both heard the man, saw him standing to the side with a tired yet concerned look, but neither turned nor stepped away from the other. Instead, their narrowed gazes stayed locked on each other, daring one another to back down.
Kiku approached Arthur though kept on switching his glance between the two blonds like they were vicious dogs preparing to tear each other's throats out. "Now isn't the best time for…debates," he mumbled to them. "We're in public, surrounded by citizens; you're beginning to cause a scene."
Arthur didn't have to look up to see if what Kiku said was true—he could feel several pairs of eyes on his person. Francis was the first to shift his gaze away, realization present in his now wide eyes. It was only then that Arthur relaxed somewhat when the Frenchman finally gave up (just like always). He wanted to have the last laugh however, so he tugged on his suit collar, loosened his grip on his suitcase, and mentioned causally, "Neither my stubborn mind or your weak will have changed over the years, France—looks like one of us hasn't learned that lesson yet."
He half-expected him to sneer back or annoyingly toss his hair to the side like an egotistical teenage girl, but he merely gave a faithless stare—all hope vanished, leaving behind the bare expression of despair. Arthur didn't give it a second thought as he spun around and briskly walked away with Kiku trailing behind.
Rage controlled his legs, moving speedily through the much-crowded sidewalks and streets. Usually the switch of drivers on the right side of the road made him double-check himself before crossing, but this time, he failed to even see if the light was green or red. He stormed through packs of citizens, frequently bumping into their shoulders or elbows. Cabs screeched to a stop and honked at him whenever he absentmindedly crossed their path like a sulking black cat. Kiku, though occasionally had to squeeze pass tourists with a mumbled "Excuse me", kept up with his desired pace pretty well—all that traffic in downtown Tokyo made him well-experienced to say the least.
Fucking bastard! Arthur ranted in his mind, jaw clenched and eyes sharpened. I ought to bash his brains in or cut out his tongue for speaking such bullshit. Who does he think he is, offering his "assistance" to me? Does he seriously believe I trust him in the slightest? He's a bigger idiot than I ever thought, claiming he knows the pain of losing someone like Elizabeth. He doesn't know anything; he didn't have to witness his wife spiral down into an endless depression or suffer from a bout of smallpox that nearly took her from me.[4]
He stopped abruptly and angrily dragged the back of his wrist across his eyes once he felt them stinging with threatening tears. He tried to calm himself down for the hundredth time that day by taking a deep breath through his nostrils and out his mouth. A horrible knot formed in his ribcage and it weighed so much that his shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion just from carrying it. He glanced up at the short brick building he halted at and noticed a familiar sign that was plastered above the doorway—in italics it read Roberta's.
"Mr. Britain? Are you alright?" Kiku's breathless voice sounded from behind Arthur. He straightened his tie and brushed away some of his black fringe from his eyes. "Mr. Britain?"
"Here it is," he mumbled, swallowing a lump in his throat.
"E-Excuse me?"
He looked to Kiku and pointed at the red sign. "Here it is: the one restaurant in Brooklyn that I don't mind."
Blinking in mild confusion, Kiku glimpsed upward. "Oh…I don't think I've been here before."
"America introduced me to this place a few years back; it's not too bad. Should we grab a pint here?"
Kiku's dark eyes met Arthur's, paused for a moment, and then nodded his head. "Perhaps we both could use a glass of wine."
His crooked grin slowly etched up his face. He was very grateful that Kiku went along with Arthur's pretend game of everything being alright—for the next few moments at least.
When they entered the condensed restaurant, Arthur was both surprised and relieved that not too many people were there. Plenty of noise bounced against the rough brick walls however: customers chatting, plates clattering, servers hollering orders to chefs, glasses sliding across the polished tables. The strong smell of Americanized-Italian food and alcoholic drinks wafted through the air. A long wooden counter sat at the back where cooks in tall white hats could be seen flipping pizza dough and mixing ingredients; kids pressed their hands against the smudged glass that separated them from their orders as they observed the cooking process with curious wonder. Dull yellow Christmas lights hung from the cluttered walls and some popular American song played from the loudspeakers overhead.
Normally, this sort of venue would make Arthur's nose crinkle in mild displeasure at its informality and busy mess. When Alfred first brought him to Roberta's and he did just that, Alfred snorted, saying, "You're too old-fashioned, England—like 1781-old-fashioned. Why don't you liven up a little and try not to be so judgey? People nowadays like just sitting around, eating some pizza, and not talking about politics or some boring shit."
Back then, the comment irritated him, so he fired some snarky reply toward Alfred that he couldn't recall. But now, as his gaze slowly rounded the room, finding happy faces and true smiles, a strange easement lowered his shoulders a bit. This was his preferred restaurant in America because it reminded him how carefully Alfred paid attention to his citizens' enjoyments and to do the same to his own citizens, to realize that there was more to his job than carrying out his ruler's orders.
He figured he could use the inspiration right now.
The two countries sat at a table next to a small square window where they could see the New York City lights beginning to beam. Kiku appeared interested in his surroundings—his head whirled about like a parrot, capturing everything the room offered to them. He continued studying the people, furniture, decorations, and menu while they situated themselves and gave their orders to a young waitress with two black braids.
"I honestly didn't think you'd enjoy the scenery this much, Japan," Arthur eventually remarked.
Kiku spun back around and blinked, a little embarrassed. "Ah, my apologies. This place just reminds me of a certain sushi bar in Kyoto that I sometimes go to."
He placed his chin upon his fist and flicked his eyes across the room once more. "Why is it that American soil retells our own countries, our own histories?"
He didn't plan for the conversation to turn so somber so quickly, but without any other personifications around them and with the rare comfort of a friend, he couldn't help but to jump onto the opportunity.
Kiku paused, thinking. "Mr. America's country is very diverse; we must've influenced them greatly." He hesitated again before asking, "Are you alright?"
Arthur didn't respond. He didn't need to; he knew Kiku already knew the answer, so he wasn't going to admit it out loud. Kiku nodded and stared at the wood etchings on the table. "Usually I try to conceal any emotional response I might get and remain professional, no matter what the situation. It works most of the time, but, if I am to be honest, there were certain situations where I failed to keep it under control."
Arthur moved his gaze toward the Japanese man, surprised at how open he was being. Kiku shifted his weight uncomfortably and straightened his posture—even now he tried keeping his composure in check. "During the second world war, I gained much land and power. My empire grew rapidly when I joined the Axis Powers. I didn't let the genocides or massacres affect me too much; I viewed it as business, as a way of showing China my worth."[5] He peeked at him. "I hope you understand my situation somewhat?"
He pondered. "To a certain degree, I suppose so."
Kiku nodded once more and continued: "I was so focused on spreading my empire that I didn't realize what I was doing was wrong or that it'd all eventually lead to my downfall. I remained professional and calm during invasions and battles; I didn't even flinch when I assisted in the attack on Pearl Harbor.[6] But I finally broke when Alfred bombed Nagasaki."[7]
He scratched his forearm, his thin eyebrows twitching slightly. "Hiroshima, of course, upset me as well, but I did everything within my power to hold it in. I was deathly afraid of what he would do next, so I requested Mr. Germany's presence at my headquarters to discuss any plans of attack. He arrived two days later, but the preparations were all in vain. During the conference, one of my men burst into the room, exclaiming that Nagasaki had just been bombed. I…was utterly shocked to say the least, and I refused to believe it at first; Hiroshima was destroyed only a few days ago. How could something so terrible happen so quickly? I got on one of the planes that was heading for Nagasaki with several medics and soldiers onboard. Mr. Germany advised me not to go, to stay and construct an attack against Mr. America, but I couldn't. That's what I did when Hiroshima fell, and I had to see the damage for myself. Mr. Germany reluctantly came with me."
Kiku closed his eyes and exhaled. "I won't describe the horrors I saw—I'm certain you have an idea of what it was like. I couldn't even exit the plane I was so scared. I was scared of facing my citizens which, in the back of my mind, I knew was irrational. They've never seen me before, they didn't know who I was. But I blamed myself for it all; I could've prevented all those deaths and destructions if I just hadn't poke the sleeping bear. My self-possession was unstable and Mr. Germany tried helping me regain myself. Poor Germany—I was very cruel to him. In the midst of my undoing, I called out everything we did over the past seven years. It all ambushed me: the holocaust, the bombings, the raids, the fear. Everything we created for the sake of killing. It was then when I realized that Mr. America only gave me what I deserved. Shortly afterwards, I spoke with Emperor Shōwa[8] about surrendering and he eventually agreed."
He opened his eyelids and, as usual, a balanced look remained in his brown eyes. Because of how evenly and quietly he kept his voice, Arthur almost didn't believe his story, but he knew it to be true. Many terrible things happened back then; it was enough to break the coldest of hearts.
You can't keep a straight face forever, Kiku, he told him mentally, no matter how hard you try.
Kiku frowned slightly, frustrated with himself. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that…sometimes the feeling of losing millions of lives can be the same thing as losing one." He peeked at him. "Does that make sense?"
Arthur didn't respond immediately, but instead let Kiku's words sink into his brain and chest. The logical side of him—his brain—scolded that, when given the chance, to always pick the option that saved the most lives; he wouldn't hesitate to send a few dozen off to their deaths in order to protect hundreds. But his emotive side—his heart—would rather hold Lizzie tightly in his arms, safe and happy, while the rest of the world burned.
"It does," he answered, slumping back into his chair. "We're all just cursed to remember the losses we could've prevented or avoided; we all have our demons."
Kiku glanced down in agreement. "Yes…"
A heavy silence staggered pass them, practically drilling that unbearable curse deep into their brains. Kiku sighed again and then added quietly, "At least we can temporarily drown our demons with alcohol."
Arthur blinked at the surprising comment before bursting out a fit of laughter. Kiku flinched; he probably wasn't expecting anyone to hear him, so Arthur's even more surprising reaction startled him. The Englishman pressed a fist against his lips to smother his chuckles, but it wasn't very effective.
What's wrong with me? It wasn't even that funny. He came to realize that there wasn't much humor in his laugh and guessed it was some destressing-mechanism, an odd way of dealing with the mournful atmosphere. Kiku either felt the same way or knew the reasoning behind his actions because he too began snickering.
After their brief moment of shared laughter, Kiku kept a small smile on his face and adjusted himself comfortably in his seat. "So, how is the royal family? I hope everyone is in good health?"
Arthur glanced to the side and smirked slightly, mutely thankful for Kiku's genuine curiosity. "They're quite alright. George and Charlotte have made a habit of following me around like ducklings."
Kiku's smile widened some. "There are worse things in the world; in fact, child innocence is one of the best."
"I never said I found the ducklings bothersome."
For the next half hour, the two nations (and friends) chatted about all sorts of topics while they nibbled at their food and sipped at their beverages (all of which arrived earlier than expected). They spoke of each other's homelands and their ruler's well-being, unfinished business from the meeting that Kiku was concerned with (Arthur still didn't care), but they mostly talked about themselves, catching up with the other's life from when they last saw one another several months ago. The casualness of their conversation felt nice, enjoyable. Arthur grew aware of how much he missed these sorts of gatherings, but he dared not say a word about it.
He was in the middle of draining the last of his pint when a familiar voice rang throughout the restaurant: "Kiku-chan!" He glanced up just in time to see Mei Xiao fly over to Kiku and wrap her arms around his neck.
Arthur suppressed a laugh by biting the inside of his cheek once he saw Kiku's face instantly switch into a crimson color, irrational fear and embarrassment clear on his small facial features.
"M-Mei?" He blinked rapidly with his hands spread out in front of him, not knowing what to do. "Er, Miss Taiwan, what brings you here?"
Mei stepped back from her embrace and smiled widely. "Yong Soo and I are wandering around the city, seeing what we can find. There's so much to do here! I'm glad we're staying for the whole week so we can fit in as much fun as it'll allow. Hopefully you and Yao won't be working too much and will join us sometime but, knowing you, I'll have to convince Mr. Italy to take your workpapers away from you."
As Mei babbled on with a wide range of emotions and Kiku's face slowly fade into a pinkish hue, Arthur noticed the energetic Im Yong Soo burst in through the front door, whip his head around like an alerted pigeon, and then jogged over to their party once he spotted the back of Mei's head.
Just as soon as the Korean caught up to them, Mei blinked at Arthur as if just now realizing that he was present. "Oh, Mr. Britain! I'm sorry! I didn't see you there." She quickly bowed in greetings/apologies, her long brown hair bouncing about her like fine silk. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."
"It's quite alright, Miss Taiwan. No harm done."
"Geez, Mei, I look away for two seconds and you're gone again," Yong Soo complained, frowning obnoxiously at her. "I already lost you in Times Square three times and once just going down an alleyway. You know, Yao always says that I need a leash, but I'm starting to think you need one."
Mei frowned back at him, eyebrows curved downward, nose crinkled and nostrils flared. "You do need a leash, Yong Soo! How many times have you tried to steal food from the food carts today?"
"About as many times as you wandered away like a hopeless little dog."
"I've been in cities before—ones that are larger than New York! I know how to handle myself!"
"I know how handle myself," Yong Soo mocked in a high-pitched voice, flipping his floppy bangs to the side.
"Please, South Korea, try not to upset Taiwan," Kiku cautioned, his voice as calm and levelled as ever. "We do not need to cause anymore scenes today."
Yong Soo and Mei quickly exchanged narrowed glares at each other before poking out their tongues insultingly and turning away. The irritated look was wiped off completely from Mei's face once she gazed at Kiku again, a grand smile replacing it. "Central Park[9] isn't too far from here and I would love to see it at nighttime. The weather's nice and the view of the city lights must be stunning."
"It would make a good Instagram photo," Yong Soo agreed.
Arthur smirked at the amusing relationship between Mei and Yong Soo: they can fight like cats and dogs one minute and then act like best friends the next.
Mei grabbed Kiku's forearm. "Can you come with us? You've been there before, I know. Maybe you can show us the most beautiful parts of it."
Arthur saw the hesitation in Kiku's eyes; if Mei was involved, he'd be more than happy to travel along, but the Japanese man glimpsed at him worriedly. "Uh, I am still having dinner with Mr. Britain right now. I'm sorry but I—"
"Oh, go on ahead, Japan," he interrupted. "We were almost done anyhow."
Mei looked at him. "You can come with us too, Mr. Britain. Oh, what is it the Americans say?" She paused in thought and then brightened when the answer came to her. "The more, the merrier!"
Arthur ignored the tight-lipped grimace Yong Soo was sporting from the corner of his eye and replied, "Thank you, but I'm afraid I can't. I must leave in the morning to head back home."
"Oh, what a shame. Early morning flights are always so tiring."
Kiku eyed him with slight concern. "Are you sure?" he asked in a quiet voice.
He responded with a tiny crooked smile, acting like everything was okay. "Of course I am. On a clear night like this, you can see the lights perfectly from several acres away. So, go and take this opportunity."
Kiku smiled back, though he didn't show his teeth (he almost never did). "If you insist. Thank you; at least let me pay for your recommendation."
He dug in his slack's pocket and pulled out an old leather wallet. He pushed pass some of his yen until he reached his small stack of American dollars. He laid two twenties on the table and stood up, grabbing his briefcase along the way. He bowed his head to Arthur and added, "Nice seeing you again, Mr. Britain, and thank you for your time."
"The pleasure is mine." He struck out his hand to which Kiku took hold of and shook firmly.
Arthur watched the trio exit the restaurant, Yong Soo stretching his arms above his head while Mei held tightly to Kiku's arm, that small blush still present on Kiku's cheeks. He heaved a sigh and glanced down at his food. Not much was taken and he didn't plan on finishing it. His gaze then aimed at the window next to him. The sky was almost black and the lights of New York City shone brightly like the colorful auras of small faeries. He could feel the remembrance curse at the back of his mind and he rubbed his temple as if that would prevent it from attacking once more.
I just want to forget for a little while, he told his plagued mind.
"Would you like more to drink, sir?"
Arthur turned to see the same waitress with two black braids staring at him, a tired but hardworking grin on her face. He peeked at his empty glass and saw the two twenties next to it that Kiku place there. He knew he had at least fifty American dollars in his wallet now and he also knew that he wouldn't be spending too much of it in the next twelve hours. He chewed on his tongue but gave in to temptation.
"Yes, ma'am. Another pint, please."
She gripped the handle of the glass. "Comin' right up."
Two minutes later, she returned, set the filled mug in front of him, and went away. He clutched the glass in his bony hand and took a swig of the intoxicating drink.
Just for a little while.
[1] French translation: "Isn't that right?"
[2] The assumptions people made about why Elizabeth chose to remain single were next to outrageous: countless love affairs, questioning her ability to have children, some people even thought she was a man. Damn, nosey much?
[3] Almost 1.5 million people were killed during the French Revolution and the Revolutionary Wars that followed. Cemeteries were overflowing with all the dead bodies, so the French had resorted to putting them in underground tunnels in Paris—the catacombs hold roughly 6 million skeletons today. Bad joke, but why do some Hetalians not realize how dead France is inside? (Also that headcanon about Francis having a neck scar from being guillotined at the French Revolution is totally accepted here.)
[4] Elizabeth caught a deadly case of the infamous smallpox in 1562 which almost killed her. During the last few years of her reign, she became seriously depressed as all her friends and court members around her died (mainly to old age)—whenever she wasn't in court, she'd lock herself up in her room and could be heard crying softly. There was an incident when some of the palace guards had to knock down the door in fear of Elizabeth never coming back out.
[5] China and Japan have always had harsh views on each other, even to this day. Though Japan was heavily influenced by Chinese architecture, language, and attire, they've always tried to distance themselves from them. A long line of invasions and war is shared between them, especially surrounding the years of WWI and WWII when Japan's empire was present.
[6] Roughly 2,500 Americans were killed during the Pearl Harbor attack 76 years ago, 68 of which were civilians. This was a complete surprise and horrible tragedy considering that America didn't even join the war yet (they were still going through the Great Depression at the time). There's even a Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day here in America on December 7.
[7] 90,000-146,000 died in the bombing of Hiroshima and another 39,000-80,000 in Nagasaki. About half of those deaths occurred within the first day of the actual dropping of the atomic bomb while others died over the next few months from the lasting radiation. The attacks were within 3 days of each other and Japan officially surrendered a month later. (Learning this fact hit me so hard in the feels, I had to sit back and think about this for a moment.)
[8] Emperor Shōwa or Hirohito was the emperor of Japan during WWII. He was known to be a pacifist and wished to avoid war altogether. Hideki Tojo was prime minister at the time and was a huge supporter of the Axis alliance between Japan, Germany, and Italy and was the one who designed the attack of Pearl Harbor in 1942. Tojo later fully converted Hirohito into thinking that war was the best option (he was known to be very persuasive) and the emperor still praised him as a "hard-worker" after he resigned in 1944 and was later executed in 1948.
[9] For anyone who doesn't live in America, Central Park is essentially several acres of land that sits in the middle of the city. It is best known for its gorgeous gardens and zoo. (Nothing too special.)