HETALIA IS A MANGA BY HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA

1915

It was no secret that the Ottoman Empire, once great and powerful, was crumbling. Everyone, Romania, Serbia, Montenegro, had taken the chance to escape from Turkey's control. It wasn't sure how long the remaining underlings would still be under his power.

This Great War, as some called it, seemed like a good opportunity to get his old glory back, but it was very risky business and maybe it was too soon to tell, but everything pointed out at the fact that Turkey had joined the losers' side. It couldn't have started worse, being beaten up by Russia at the Caucasus.

But Turkey knew who had caused that defeat, and it was not his poor strategy. Russia had had help.

Help from Armenia.

He was a good craftsman, smart; that was why he had been one of his confidants and favorites. Well, things had changed dramatically, it seemed. Just like everyone knew, Armenia, following that feeling all nations had inside, which drove them to find their own land, expand it, to get rid of other nations' control and maybe find someone to control instead, he desired to be independent, leave him. He said he was too possessive. That he weighted him down. That he didn't let him practice his religion in peace, even if he kept it to himself. Since Turkey took his ambitions with much cautiousness and kept him closer to him, Armenia had turned sourer.

He could have done anything in his hand to leave him—even helping Russia against him.

But there was something that was not common knowledge.

After re-reading the draft of the document, a cup in his hand, he took a fountain pen and signed it.

Armenia wanted out?

Well, fine.

He would take him out.

The first shot was in the brains.

That night, Armenia was woken up by a suffocating feeling which kept him sat on the bed for a long while, his heart racing. After almost an hour it barely got better, so he decided to get out of his house to sit on the porch, in the open and fresh air, to smoke a cigarette in peace.

The dark silhouette of the city of Constantinople in the horizon and the stars above his head didn't give him the relief he expected. He watched the black figure of the city with a feeling he couldn't explain—but he knew precisely what it meant.

The Allies had disembarked at Gallipoli in spite of Turkey's efforts. And he already had someone to blame: Armenia.

He had seen the propaganda, heard how his media accused him of paving the way for the enemies to come and overthrown the government, destroy everything. Armenia had had to deal with the most unsettling looks that day, some hurtful comments. Traitor. Spy.

That night, as Turkey was fighting to try to keep England, France and Russia at bay, his men were taking care of the instigators. Armenia's politicians, intellectuals.

What would they do to them, Armenia asked himself, smoking outdoors, surrounded by darkness? If he was feeling so uneasy, it was because he had something to fear.

A month passed, with very light, uneasy, long nights, and he finally got the answer to his question, when the Tehcir Law was made public, the 29th of May. The Temporary Law of Deportation, which gave the Turkish government and military forces authority to deport those who were considered dangerous to their nation.

Armenia was a threat to Turkey, he was encouraging his people to revolt against the Turkish, inspired hate to Turkey; therefore, all of them had to leave.

His politicians, intellectuals, journalists, teachers, they were at concentration camps in Ankara. Armenia found out after a lot of bribing and pressuring people.

It was useless to try and contact Turkey, ask him for explanations. He was at the battlefield, fighting the Allies. He had no time for him. What he had to say, had already been said. If he had a problem, Armenia could talk to his representatives, and they were very clear: he had to go.

The Turkish barely let them time to pack their things. Many families were forced to eave behind everything they had. Their patrimony, their goods, did not belong to them anymore. As soon as they left their houses, a Turkish family had already settled there, taken their farms, their jobs. They improved their quality of life dramatically, making Turkey stronger, making him get back a lot of his lost vigor. In the meantime, Armenia, with nothing inside of his pockets, was forced to leave.

The second shot was in his arms.

"We have been loyal to Turkey!"

Everything Mr. Kazarian had and could have said was in vain. The soldiers irrupted in the city of Van with a decree from the government which allowed them to look for weapons, used, allegedly, to conspire against the empire. Men were being taken away from their families, forced to recruit themselves to fight at war. If they were really loyal to Turkey, they said, they would be glad to fight for him. But the soldiers were being a bunch of brutes, and didn't need much of a excuse to use their weapons against Armenia's men. The nation had to witness too many loud arguments which almost always ended up in his men getting shot. And he couldn't take it anymore.

"Look." He spoke to the general, gently pushing Mr. Kazarian aside. "All Van can give you is five hundred men. It's all they've got. I can offer you money for the rest. Please, you cannot leave Van without men who can defend their families and work for the community. Money should be enough, right?"

He really tried to be conciliatory. He even showed the general money, everything he had, so he saw this was not just a trick. But the man took the money and at the same time he said:

"It seems you have made a decision, Armenia...Rebelling against Turkey...Not that our nation did not count on it. That was why he gave us instructions: we are going to crush all of these people if you do not follow his instructions. Just one shot and all of these Christians will be irrigating their land with their blood."

"I am not rebelling against Turkey...Please, my people are not..."

"You are a tyrant, mister, that's what you are!" Mr. Kazarian exclaimed, his patience ending. Armenia tried to appease him, but it was useless. His face was red with fury as he spoke to the general to the face. "You cannot come here and do what you please!"

The general's response was calm and collected. Without making such a fuss, quite unexcitedly, he just grabbed his pistol and shot Mr. Kazarian in the chest three times. The leader fell into Armenia's arms. He called him again and again, shook him, but his eyes were wide open, looking at nothing, already gone.

"I suggest you not to make me lose my patience, Armenia." Was all the general said before walking away, his message delivered.

But both sides had lost their patience. The Turkish soldiers already had orders to siege the city. Women were already being harassed and raped. The men used their little resources to fight like tigers. It didn't seem like a fair fight. It wasn't. Everything seemed to indicate that Van was going to be crushed by the Turkish.

It was then when Russia came along.

With his men, he mowed down the attackers. And left Armenia in a very delicate position.

He didn't like the smile on his face, childish, insincere, while his uniform was dirty with blood and soil. As he approached, Armenia drew back, wielding his weapon.

"You know what they say: my enemies' enemies are my friends."

"I am not your friend."

"You really want to be on Turkey's side? Do you prefer being killed by him?"

"He's not going to kill me."

"Oh, he will. Just give him time."

"Go away, Russia..."

"Oh, no. It is you who must go away. This is my city now. I conquered it. You and your people, and the Turkish should start packing your things. Ah, and when you see Turkey, if he doesn't kill you on sight, tell him I'm coming for his precious Constantinople. I have plans for it...Are you sure you do not want to switch sides? This is your last call..."

America left the papers on the desk and raised his head towards Turkey.

"You are way older than me. You have a lot of experience in war. You should know that, even if war is the perfect space for dirty tricks, there are rules."

He placed a hand on a paper and dragged it towards the other.

"Care to tell me what's the meaning of this?"

Turkey didn't even look at it. His eyes, behind of his mask, were fixed on America. He would never admit it out loud, but it was unsettling, seeing those two sparkling dots behind of that expressionless mask.

"Well...As you said, war is the best place to stab people in the back and do nasty tricks. Armenia has decided to betray me. He wants to take me to my doom, collaborating with the enemy. I had to tell him to leave. Defending oneself is not a crime, isn't it?"

America sighed, standing straight. He paused and after a while he muttered: "I suppose not..."

In the name of protecting himself, Turkey gave green light to the deportations and the murder of those who resisted actively.

The Armenian men who could use a weapon were deprived from them, separated from their families. Many of them, having allegedly rebelled against Turkey and his authorities, were executed.

Armenia found photos of Turkish soldiers posing with the heads of his soldiers, politicians, teachers, next to their hanging corpses—but he already knew. He already knew all of that. He hadn't slept in weeks.

Every time he closed his eyes he found himself in the body of one of his men, tired, hungry, thirsty, beaten up; in front of him was a battalion who aimed at him; there was a boom and he woke up with a pain in his chest.

And, lastly, Turkey shot at Armenia's guts.

Elder men, the sick, women, children.

There was a place for them passed the Syrian desert. That was where Armenia was supposed to take his people to.

The problem was, Turkey left no food or shelter for the way.

The houses and cities they passed by were completely closed to them. No one greeted them, no one offered help. People hid inside of their houses when they appeared so they didn't even have to look at them.

There were soldiers in charge of escorting them to their destination, but they were like shadows one couldn't count on. When the Kurdish and other tribes attacked, they turned their heads. They had to be bribed in order to get them to share some of their supplies with them, and many times they didn't deliver. Along with all of those people who robbed and attacked them in such miserable state, they raped Armenia's women and girls.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Armenia roared, gathering all of his little strength to run to the man who had grabbed that poor widow and her children. First, he had cut the children's neck so they didn't bother and now he was undressing the lady by force. It was too late to save the children, but the woman...He had to do something! He couldn't hear her scream! He felt her pain as if it was his!

But he was sick, to the point he could barely walk through he sand. He tripped many times and when he finally reached the bandit, he easily knocked him down with just one blow.

When Armenia woke up, he had left, leaving behind the corpses. Armenia dragged himself in tears toward them. Close their eyes, close their eyes. Poor little angels. God have mercy on their souls.

Where was the mother? With the children in his arms (how small, how light), he looked around him, not finding anyone. Eventually, he found a trail on the ground, which he followed. It lead to a cliff.

He didn't want to look, but he did. At the bottom he found her. Like many, she had jumped to put an end to her misery once and for all.

«A caravan of death, the desert is filled with corpses. Concentration camps, where there is not enough food and illnesses take many lives.»

America left the newspaper on the desk and removed his glasses to rub his face and let out a long sigh.

That was why he hated reading press. Everything seemed to be depressing news.

Turkey...He knew he couldn't trust that man, a man who didn't even want to show the world his face.

But what could he do? He was neutral. Giving Turkey a lesson would be a declaration of war, and he wanted none of that...

Germany had to put the photos aside because he was feeling disgusted. Maybe the letter attached to them had influenced his mood.

«We are tired of seeing those Armenians treated worse than cattle and being forced to be quiet.»

He was aware that Turkey had been convincing the other nations that he was just doing what he needed to do. Armenia was dangerous, he said. He was conspiring against him. That was why he had to be cruel. They didn't expect him to just let him stab him in the back, right?, he said.

«Towns completely destroyed, burnt to the ground. Women and children burnt with them.»

He really didn't like it. Just like Armenia, he was a Christian.

«Drowned at the Black Sea and the rivers.»

Turkey was supposed to be fighting the Allies, not his underlings.

«Given morphine overdoses, gasses, illnesses, to study the effects on the human body.»

But he just couldn't say anything to him. They were together on this. The way he managed his own empire was none of his business.

Therefore, all Germany did was break those photographs, the letters, throw them to the fireplace and try to forget about it.

He never would. Deep inside of him, all those ideas had taken root and it wouldn't be long until he put them into practice himself, with another uncomfortable ethnicity.

1918

The stench was so great England covered his nose. Mud spoiled his boots as he walked into the concentration camp. Around him, there were corpses, corpses, corpses, corpses. Hanged rebels, maybe poor blokes who were used as a lesson of who the lives of the Armenians belonged to and what the Turkish could do to them any time. Of men, women and children who had died of illnesses, hunger, thirst, cold, maybe; scattered everywhere, right where they dropped lifeless, rotting at plain sight; if they had carried something minimally valuable, the living had already stolen it. And them, the survivors, looked like walking skeletons, making England remember those Halloween illustrations of dancing skeletons—only this didn't make him laugh and probably made such amusements grim to him for a long while. The way they looked at him and his men, how they grabbed the food they were given by the Allies.

One of his men drove him to the barracks Armenia was in.

A stinky hut with moldy walls, where one could barely breathe. That was where he found Armenia, lying on a bed. He looked like he couldn't be able to stand up.

"Hey."

Armenia turned his eyes to him, but his body didn't move.

"We are not here to hurt you. We won, and that means Turkey will have to pay for his actions, including what he did to you."

Armenia still kept looking at him with dull eyes, expressionless. England took a cigarette out of his pouch, carefully placed it on Armenia's lips and lit it with a match.

"You will be alright. You just need a little bit of time. Turkey will pay for his crimes."

Armenia kept looking at him in silence for a while. When he finally spoke, with croaky voice, he almost startled England. His voice sounded as if he was speaking from the bottom of a dark well.

"Yes, he will pay...I will make sure he will pay..."

"...I know some of your people have decided to...Take the law into their own hands...Maybe you could say something to make them stop..."

"...You had the chance to help me...You...knew..."

"...Technically, we were enemies, remember?" England replied after an uncomfortable silence.

The cigarette slipped from Armenia's lips and fell to the floor, lighting itself up in the fall.

"...No..." Armenia kept looking at him to the eyes. "You invested on his telegraph, and his railroad...You two were in touch...You sold him weapons...He bribed you so you looked away...You are against Russia, the communist, so you wouldn't help someone who sided with him...You could have stopped it...You could have done something...And you chose not to..."

"...This was war...There was nothing I could do...Domestic affairs-"

"Right...Domestic affairs..."

That was what all those burnt towns were. The decapitated men. The drowned children. The raped women. The shot soldiers. The deserts filled with corpses. A domestic affair.

"Go away, England."

"Listen, Armenia, we will..."

"I WANT NO MORE PROMISES!" Armenia stood as much as he could, his languid body recovering its energy for a second. "I JUST WANT YOU TO GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU DID NOTHING!"

As England quickly left the barracks, he kept hearing that howl: 'YOU DID NOTHING!'. And then, a weep, barely able to let out all the anguish Armenia kept inside.

The things he had witnessed would have been enough to make a man slip into insanity. Nations were different, unfortunately. It was something which rotted their brains and left a hole inside of their chests. If the poor bastard was not mad, England thought, he would be close.

But it was better not to think about it...

THE END

The Armenian genocide was the first genocide of the 20th century. Since this form of mass murdering was not contemplated on international laws yet, Turkey had to face no punishment for it. To this day, the country does not acknowledge it as genocide, nor do United Kingdom and many countries, since it is argued that it was just an inter-ethnic fight in a context of war. Others prefer not to publicly refer to it as so in order to keep diplomatic relations with Turkey safe. Countries like Russia, Vatican City, United States, Belgium, Canada, Argentina or Greece explicitly recognize it; there are some, like France or Switzerland, which have laws that even prohibit its denial just like in the case of the Holocaust.