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"The first step toward change is awareness. The second is acceptance."
~ Nathaniel Branden ~
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Eventually I came too and found myself lying in a cement chalet, half brick and half straw, listlessly gazing at the moonlight peeking through the gaps in the roof. I stared in uncomprehendingly at the straw roof, pondering everything that had just been revealed to me.
Arthur...that name seemed rather familiar.
A guy named Arthur who called himself "Britain"...Arthur...someone named "Jones" a German called "Ludwig" and a guy named "Francis" ...it simply couldn't be a coincidence, not when there were so many similarities.
A wise-man once said; once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.
Thus, however crazy it may seem, I had to accept that I was, for all intents and purposes, in world of Hetalia. I'd always liked Hetalia, had even made a lofty wish on a star to allow me to meet my favorite characters-and there was rule number one broken-but I had never wanted to be in the show.
You would think this would freak me out, but honestly the revelation barely registered.
The fact that I was now, supposedly, the personification of my home, barely registered.
Heck, I hardly even blinked at the idea that I was now-technically-immortal.
No, what stuck out to me most, what kept repeating in my head over-and-over-and-over again, was the year;1932. The year of South Africa's independence, 62 years before 1994 the year that marked both my birth and South Africa's rebirth. And was 20 years before my own time-line.
That's 82 years.
82 years of history that I would need to live through, not as myself, but as a nation, a leader, a person responsible for millions of lives. 82 years that I would need to live through, without screwing things up.
This might seem like a pointless thing to worry about, after all WWII, the Cold War, Apartheid they're all incredibly important granted, but I should be fine as long as I act according to the history books. And there-in lies my fear.
I hate history.
And admitting so broke my second rule, but it doesn't make it any less true.
I hate history, and history must surely hate me to stick me in such a predicament. I don't know how much power the nations truly have in government, I doubt I'd have too much power being so new and all, but I bet they'd give me enough rope to hang myself with.
I don't know how long I sat in that room contemplating my new situation, time seemed to pass rather oddly. But eventually my new "best friend" came to check on me with a rather serious expression.
"Elize," he said, causing me to jump and shoot him a confused look, before realizing that he was referring to me.
"R-right," my voice croaked, unused to me talking, "that's my new name."
"Elize," Britain continued and I was suddenly struck with the wish to know how he had gotten 'here' (wherever 'here' was) as I hadn't seen a door from my stationary place in the corner.
I was also sort of curious as to what 'here' was. (I mean, I knew it was a chalet but who did it belong to? Where was the owner?)
"You can't stay coped up here forever, its bad for you." He implored. "Isolation is not the way to go, you're people need to stretch their wings, I know this has been quite a shock, but I won't let you go the way of Japan."
Here he started muttering something about 'Abel' and how just because he'd kept his friendship with Japan through his own isolation, didn't mean Britain needed to call on him, now, in this situation.
"Elize, its been two bloody years, your people need you."
Well, that certainly got my attention.
"No man!" I yelled, wincing at my accent...it hadn't been that strong yesterday, I was sure, "No," I started again, "it's been 2 weeks. At most." I stressed.
Arthur just gave me a pitying look. "Have you even stepped foot out of your house since I left?"
"How do you mean my house? And WHY THE HELL, am I suddenly speaking like a Brit?!"
Arthur winced before scratching his head awkwardly, "we~ll," he began, "if you'd stepped outside you may have noticed your people have been..."
"Ja?" (Yah?)
"...um, well let's just say not everyone is happy that you're here, and why would they be when you're sitting here sulking like a complete wanker?!" Arthur yelled pulling me from my corner of 'sulkdom', "I know I raised you better than this, come on and carry on!"
Narrowing my eyes at Britain's insensitivity-I mean its not like I've just lost EVERYTHING and EVERYONE I had ever cared about-I couldn't help but spitting, "you never raised me, remember? In fact, if anything, you very nearly killed me. I don't know what in f*** name is going on, but I damn well know I shouldn't be saying things like 'how do you mean'!"
A tense moment passed with Britain and I staring off before the old nation seemed to come to a decision and sighed.
"Look, Elize, the truth is...I have no bleeding idea why you said that. No one can tell you why...except for you and-perhaps-whoever the hell you lot put in charge."
After a moment of tense contemplation I decided to take Arthur at his word-what reason would he have to lie to me, after all?-as I had some questions to ask him.
"How did yo-what, what did you mean by 'two years'?"
"Well," Arthur began, "you're a nation, in her home, alone, that means you've had nothing to keep you grounded."
At my 'huh?' face, he continued.
"Time passes differently for nations than it does for most, we can live hundreds, upon hundreds of years. If we don't have something holding our attention its easy to just zone out and let the time slip away. You're lucky, you're young so you easily snapped out of it. Some bloody nations coop themselves up for hundreds of years."
The way Arthur said that so bitter with just a trace of hurt, I couldn't help but think there was a Nation in specific he'd been referring to.
"So you're telling me," I began slowly, "that I could just sit here for, lets say, 80 years? And it'd feel like less than two years had passed?"
Arthur nodded slowly, before raining on my parade, "if you're thinking of being all lassiez-faire," he began, wincing at his own use of the French word, "don't. You're young, you don't know the kind of trouble your government can get up to without you there to curb their impulsive nature. Bloody idiots, the lot of them."
On the contrary, I thought, I knew exactly what sort of trouble RSA would get up to. And I also wondered if it was even possible to circumvent it...if I even wanted to circumvent it.
A nation is made up of its failures as much as its successes. What would Russia be if it had never gone through the Cold War? Japan if it had never allied with the Axis? What would an England that had never tried to become an Imperial Empire look like? What would a world not untied by English rule, look like?
What would my world, 80 years down the road, become...if we never invented the atomic bomb? The fallout was horrible but it lead to so much, to the space race, to radiology, to the collapse of the Berlin freakin' wall!
Who was I to stand in the way of the future?
But who was I to ignore the atrocities of the past?
South Africa.
I was South Africa.
Land of the first successful heart-transplant, South Africa. Inventor of the CAT-scan, South Africa. Speaker of the youngest language in the world, South Africa.
But I was also, South Africa.
Separates her people, South Africa. Sharpeville and Soweto, South Africa. Robbin Island and 20 years of imprisoning Nelson Mandela, South Africa.
I was the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I had no idea what to do about it.
I mean things were easy now, WWII was coming up, and while that sucked I doubt South Africa actually played a big part in the war. That is, assuming my American History books didn't leave anything out...like they did with Canada...and tend to do with anything America was involved with...and crap.
South Africa enters the war, doesn't it?
...well, I'll face that hurdle when it comes up. But still, that's pretty easy to deal with just point and shoot at the bad guys and all that. I mean as long as I remember Allies = good, Axis = bad, I should be fine. (I purposely ignored the fact that I had no idea if South Africa even joined the Allies.)
After all, didn't a large group have a problem with all things British? There were like two wars about it, I remember, and South Africans can be pretty darn stubborn at times.
We would totally cut off our nose to spite our face. It wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities that we would join the Axis Powers, even if we had no imperial goals, just to spite Britain...and damn.
This is what Arthur meant, isn't it? I need to get more involved with my leaders to stop them from making stupid decisions like backing the wrong group in the upcoming fight.
"Fine." I spat at the Brit-I'd go but I didn't have to like it.
"Fine?" He questioned, bushy brows scrunched up like caterpillars. "How do you mean?"
"Fine," I ground out, "I'll go meet who ever the f***'s in charge. And stop them from making any stupid policies." 'Foreign,' I added mentally, 'stop them from making any stupid foreign policies.' I still had no freakin' idea what I was going do about all the stupid domestic policies that are to be passed.
"Great, now just go to your closet and put on your formal wear. You want to make a good impression on your Prime Minister."
South Africa has a Prime Minister? Huh, guess we don't do the president thing until Mandela takes over, who da thunk.
Walking over to my closet, I opened it ready to grab the first outfit I came across. After all, if I'm really in the Hetalia universe then it stands to reason I only have one outfit-the one that best represents my nation-right?
Wrong.
"Uh...A-arthur," I called, staring in fear at my closet. "I don't know what to wear..."
Arthur made some sigh before slowly walking over and I secretly counted my luck that I was female and his "gentlemen" character would force him to help me if I so asked.
"Honestly, Elize," he called from around the corner, "just choose the most formal looki-bloody hell!" He yelled as he finally got a look at my closet. Or should I say, a look at my second bedroom.
When I first read Hetalia and had the question of what African Nations looked like I always wondered what clothes they would wear. I mean South Africa, for example, had a white government for years but her people were predominantly tribal. So what style dress would she wear? The answer...all of them.
That's right.
My "closet" had clothes for every single tribe in South Africa. And not just one outfit, oh no, it held formal wear, and casual wear, and military wear.
(I nearly screamed when I caught site of the leopard skin apron hanging next to the isihlangu shield, and briefly entertained the thought of showing up in full Zulu tribal wear when meeting my Prime Minister.)
Ultimately I scratched the idea as they probably wouldn't have found it funny, in fact Arthur probably wouldn't have found it very funny...
"Well..." Arthur began unsure, and I wondered if he ever had this problem with his own closet. Did he wake up in the morning with the question as to whether it was a kilt wearing day? Or was he just so set in his ways that he didn't even bother wearing other clothes anymore?
Probably the later.
Well that's just sad. Looking around my closet that easily held over 30 different outfits, I vowed to never become that static. I would wear every single outfit there, even if only once. And modesty be damned! I was South Africa, if my people could walk around with just a grass skirt, then so could I!
Mini motivational speech complete I reached for the first outfit I could find. But then paused to ask Britain the time of year.
"Huh? Oh, right. It's August, August 4th, 1934."
August, I thought, reaching for the grass-skirts, so sum-No! I mentally yelled, "Southern Hemisphere' it's Winter."
Shuddering as I remembered the last South African winter I braved I reached to grab one of the heaviest outfits I could find.
Which just so happened to be the Dutch-pilgrim dresses of the early Afrikaaner settlers.
"Well," I commented, turning to Britain with a wry smile, "here's to hoping our current Prime Minister is a Boer."
I nearly died laughing at the look on the Brit's face. "Our? What is this 'our?'" He called, while I made my escape to the nearest bathroom. And I'd have to get used to brass keys acting as my locks again.
"He is most certainly your Prime Minister." He continued, "my Prime Minister is Ramsay MacDonald, in fact, outside our your being a dominion under his Majesty King George II, we share no government officials!"
Huh, so South Africa's a dominion, we have a monarchy.
The more you know.
"Okay," I called, stepping out from the bathroom, "how do I look?"
...Arthur just gazed at me, confused-and what right did he have to judge my outfit when I know he spent years dressed as a pirate of all things!
"Um," he mumbled, "you look very...conservative?"
"Is that supposed to be a compliment? You can do better than that!"
"You look...very 19th century?"
"Agh!" I yelled, throwing my hands up, "man, just forget it. We need to go somewhere, ne?"
"Right." Britain called, opening my front door, "well come along!" He grabbed my hand pulling me behind him, "we need to see a man about a dog."
The next thirty minutes, while we walked to parliament (apparently I needed to be "seen" by my people, or something), was spent teasing Britain about all his weird sayings;
"Oi, horses for course, and all that."
And laughingly correcting him when he called my sayings weird.
"Sis, man. Stop it, you're going to make me pee myself."
They weren't weird, just-you know...inventive.
It was the first time in two weeks (read: two years) that I'd been able to really relax.
I was still pretty confused by this whole thing, and had a million questions-how did I get here? How did I first leave here (if Arthur was to be believed)? Which world was the 'real' world? Was this world the same as the show from that world? Was that world's history the same as this world's future?-but, for thirty minutes, I managed to bench them all and focus on the present.
On the here and now.
I laughed with Arthur, and wondered if it would really be so terrible to be a nation. If maybe I hadn't been a bit fatalistic about the whole thing. If I couldn't make true, make lasting friendships here.
After all, a person could survive anything if surrounded by friends.
I laughed, and I smiled, and I felt something shift, it was slight. Like a light-refraction, or a swarm of gnats in the air, a very slight distortion. But it was something, and I knew, without Britain explaining, I just knew, I had managed to "ground" myself.
And after "grounding" myself, I started to see them.
My people.
I hadn't noticed at first, so distracted by the highs and lows of the past few days. But the entire time Britain and I had been walking-and if it had felt like 30 minutes to me before I was 'grounded' it could have very well been a day-we hadn't seen a single citizen.
Or should I say, they were there but they were faceless, essence-less, in a different realm.
They were like the humans from Spirited Away, there yet not. They were so substance-less, that I hadn't paid them any mind. Hadn't even acknowledged their existence, in fact.
Now, however, things were different.
Cities were bustling, I could hear the noise of the local vendors. It was as if every sense before had been muffled, had been seen as if from under water, and now suddenly it was all so bright, so loud.
Honestly, it gave me a headache.
Everything was suddenly more, and yet...the people, they looked normal enough, but they were more washed out than normal. The blond not quite as blond, the blues and greens lacking a certain shine.
Looking from Britain to my people it was like comparing two pictures; one coloured with pencils, the other markers. There was a clear discrepancy in...vibrancy.
And before entering the parliamentary building, I couldn't help but wonder if this is what Britain had meant about nations "recognizing" each other.
If so I could understand why they didn't often hangout with non-nations. Just looking around, I felt...different. Not better, not worse, just...not a part...not a part of anything. And yet I was a part of everything.
Being a nation means isolation, it means decisions, and pain, but it also meant a chance. A real chance to make a difference. How many times had I claimed the government should do 'this' or 'that'? How many times had I ripped into a new policy? Or criticized an old regime?
I never wanted to go into politics growing up. Too much bureaucracy, I'd say. But this...this system, it by-passed all the red-tape. Nations, personified Nations that were left to deal with foreign affairs. In its own, twisted way, it was brilliant.
And a tiny part of me, so small that I would never admit to it, was the slightest bit glad I had found my way here.
I was young, I was childish, and I was most definitely naive. But that's okay, because so was South Africa. So were my people. I could feel it in my bones; the way I could tell war was on the horizon. The way I could tell it would cause a split in my country. I could feel that South Africa was ready to have a voice.
That we were ready to make a difference.
A/N: Well here y'all go, chapter 2 of "Crisis" hopefully you liked it. We should be meeting some more Nations next chapter, well see...Anyway, thanks to all who favourited/alerted/reviewed! You guys rock!
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rednightmares: Your wish is my command *bows* haha, and thank you for your review! It really does mean so much to see people's opinions of my story :)
Lady Bec of Imagineland: Thank you, I should update-hopefully, but no promises-around once a week or so. :)
Platinum: HERE YOU GO! :) Just wanted to thank you sooo much for being my first reviewer for this story. Hopefully you'll continue to enjoy it.
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Chapter 3 preview:
"So, anything interesting happen while I was cooped up?"
"Well, that new up-start, Hitler, just merged Germany's chancellor and presidential offices. He calls himself their 'Fuehrer,' hopefully he'll do better than old Hindenburg. Man was going senile in his old age. Reichstag Fire Decree, please, why not just declare Marshall law, while you're at it?"
"...uh...what?"