HETALIA IS A MANGA BY HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA

1942

Canada came into the room, where America was supervising the next moves at the Pacific with his general MacArthur. He approached his brother licking his lips nervously.

"Uhm, America. Sorry to interrupt, but someone wishes to see you..."

"Tell them I'll be there in a minute." America raised his hand without looking at him and continued talking to MacArthur. "Maybe not by plane, but what about...?"

"Are you going to make us wait, little pup?"

Little pup. America raised his head from the map, eyes wide open. The only people who called him that were...

He turned around, like everyone in the room, to look at the group of people who had just come into the office, bringing news which, in their opinion, was the true priority for America at the moment. They certainly knew how to turn heads with their fancy and colorful way of dressing, the features of their faces, their hairstyles, decorated with feathers. They bore those eyes standing tall, proud—the way only an Indian could.

"Do not look at us that way, boy. You look like you've got no brain inside of your head." Sioux said.

"We come in peace." Added Cherokee, glancing at all those generals, officers, officers and members of the government who were giving them wary looks.

"Although our purpose is war." Choctaw firmly said.

"Mmmmwhat do you mean by that?" America asked. The word 'war' coming from the lips of an Indian...

"We know about the attack on Pearl Harbor." Navajo said, and his eyes turned to America's side, as if he could see the bandage through the suit, the blood under the bandages. "We know you declared war on those who call themselves the Axis."

"And we came to offer you our help." Chippewa took a step forward, her hand waving to point at herself and the others.

Not few people in the room exchanged a look of disbelief and surprise.

"I'm sorry, what?" America blinked.

"I am starting to think you have no brain, indeed..." Sioux muttered, rolling his eyes. His next words were slow, as if he was talking to something slower than a little child. "Help. We came to help."

"You come to help...me?"

"Yes. Those who go against those horsemen of darkness." Choctaw nodded.

America paused to rub his chin.

"I don't understand. After all me, England and others...? I mean...Look at you! You live in reservations, are poor as rats, no one takes you seriously anymore! All you can do these days is sit at home and drink yourselves half blind! And you want to help us?"

"That is because we are not doing this for you." Cherokee said. "It is true we have no sympathy for you or England. He and his men came to our land like a pack of wolves, devouring men, women and children without pity. He wanted our lands for you, because if you owned them, he, the puppeteer who moved your strings, would possess them. And he got them. You, you were his pup. You grew up to become a wolf too and showed your own teeth at us. You claimed them and turned them into something ugly and wrong. You took our pride, making us live in such conditions you describe. You go around naming yourself as the whole land, as if it begins and ends only in you. But what you are fighting against is worse than England or yourself. We know of the cruelty of those nations, their disregard for all type of life. They are worse than wolves. They are demons who plant the seed of death wherever they set foot on. You have seen they can come here any second and destroy the land we were born in."

"We can be useful." Navajo took a step forward. "Times may be tough for us, but the blood of warriors still runs through our veins. We know how to fight. We can endure hard conditions. We will fight till the very end."

"And I still have something pending with that man of golden hair." Iroquois said, squinting. "Decades ago, I offered you my help to fight them..."

"Yeah, I remember. You were useful, not gonna lie." America interrupted in a mutter.

"He could not decipher my language. He got wise and sent his men to my reservoirs, pretending to research about me and my culture, but the purpose was to get information about the codes, not to fall in the same trap twice. That is a nasty trick, an insult he must pay for."

"He may know about her language but not mine." Navajo intervened. "I will give you the codes this time."

"We are willing to buy as many treasury stamps, war bonds and make as many donations as we can. Our men and women are ready for everything." Apache said. "All we need is for your permission."

America glanced at the natives, who held his stare with great determination. Despite all they had been through, despite the years—their look was just like he remembered. Hard as stone. Cold as ice, and at the same time flaming like fire. Serious. Devilishly patient. Years before, when he fought those men to get their land, that look was enough to bring chills to his back and take their threat very seriously.

Perhaps no one in the world knew what those nations were capable of better than him. So...How would he refuse their help?

"Welcome to the Allies." America declared. "Shall we seal this with a peace pipe or...something?"

"Later." Apache smiled gently. "The situation is urgent. We would better start our training as soon as possible."

Apache was already carrying a rifle in his back, which he showed proudly, with a smile that showed his teeth. All of them, in fact, just needed America's word to start working to relief the pressure Toh-Ta ("Between waters", England) was suffering in Europe by Besh-Be-Che-He ("Iron Hate", Germany); although they were needed everywhere.

Some parted immediately to the Intelligence facilities to give Japan a very hard time decoding America's messages. Others were sent to help Australia at his house. But all of them painted their faces and bodies with the colors of war and commended their hearts to the spirits to ask them for strength.

THE END