The man sprinted headlong towards the cliff, screaming, with blood streaming down his face from a gash on his cheek. His black hair was caked with mud, and his clothes were torn in many places. A blonde haired man tore after him, calling for him to stop. The blonde's bomber jacket was almost as torn as the first man's clothes were, but the only blood on him was his men's.
"Stop!" he screamed and reached for the dark-haired man's bloodied shirt. The man looked back with eyes that were almost all white and yanked it out of America's reach. The cliff rushed up, and with a shout of happiness, he jumped into the air and disappeared behind the rocky surface. Alfred slowed and bent over panting. Tears flowed down his face. "No…no… not another one…"
He looked over the side of the cliff and saw numerous bodies on the rocks below. The water that lapped around them was red with the blood of the broken people who had jumped, and it was they who America wept for. He looked away; he couldn't bear to see everyone that he'd failed to save.
A cold point at the back of his neck made him still, but the tears still flowed, even as he turned to see the man responsible for the multitudes of dead bodies at Alfred's feet. "You. You did this! They could have lived! You didn't have to convince them to kill themselves! Anything this better than this," Alfred said, staring into Japan's cold eyes, black as the darkest pit. Kiku showed no sign that he cared about the slaughter of his own people.
"I will not allow them to become your prisoners," he said calmly, as if they were discussing what he had for breakfast this morning. "It is better to die by their own hands then to be dishonored by being captured." America wanted to slap him.
"You lied to them! That's why they did this. That's why there are so many people dead. For lies." Kiku shrugged, and the movement cut a red line into the pale skin at America's throat. "They should be honored to die for me. This might not be how it is in America, but in Japan, we will die before the enemy gets their chance to have victory." Kiku's uniform gleamed innocently white; he hadn't even gone out to fight. He'd sent men out to die without putting himself on the line with them.
Alfred wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry that you are messed up so bad Japan! But your allies are gone. Germany and Italy have been defeated; you can't fight a solo war against the rest of the world! The Soviets are threatening to come help us defeat you, and I can guarantee you will not win in a two front war. Please….. Stop the fighting…. Stop the killing!"
Japan slowly shook his head. America looked for any sign of indecision, any sign that he felt guilt for the bloody water and broken bodies below the cliff, people never to fight for him again. He looked for guilt for the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, guilt for the death march that Kiku had forced Alfred's people to endure, guilt for anything and everything. But there wasn't any.
A few American soldiers ran up and pulled Japan away from him. Alfred watched as Kiku struggled with the soldiers, all of whom had lost their guns in the fighting that was still going on. Japan landed a couple of good punches before he seemed to remember that he was holding a sword. He swung it in a wide arc, making the men jump back for fear of getting hit. One of the men got hit anyway, a large gash on his upper arm that immediately started to gush. Japan ran off, pushing them out of his way; he knew when he was beaten. It didn't mean he accepted it. Alfred knew he would fight just as hard when they invaded the Japanese mainland, and just as many people would die.
After Kiku was gone into the distance, America bound the wounded soldier's arm with a strip of cloth he tore from his shirt."You guys get him back to camp." He said to the other 3 who were hovering around them anxiously. "I'll be along soon." They left and Alfred turned back to the cliff.
The water was turning pinkish; the blood was being washed out to sea. The people had tainted the water for a while, but they were slowly being forgotten. He would bet money that Japan was drinking a fresh pot of tea right now and washing the blood off his sword. He would never think of these people again. America bowed his head. "Your own country killed you. Your own country doesn't care about you. So I will. I'll avenge your deaths. I promise." Tears fell over the bloody cliff of Okinawa, far from American soil. And yet America cried as if it were his own people lying abandoned, bloodied and broken.
Before the Battle of Okinawa, Japan spread propaganda on the island about what it was like to be the American's prisoner of war. Thanks to this, and a feeling of extreme loyalty during the time, when the American's invaded many people jumped off cliffs rather than risk being captured by them.
I got the idea for this during a history class. My teacher was incredibly detailed, and all credit goes to her for this.