This is War Chp 3: Little Boy
An arm shoots out from a pile of ominous-looking rough drafts and homework assignments. The authoress scrabbles out.
"Here you go." She whispers in a hoarse voice, the third chapter in her hand.
The things I suffer for you guys….
2ps….
Japan left the conference building, just for a while, to sit under a sakura tree. He always found them relaxing, even inside a greenhouse on a rainy German day.
Kuro-kun, is that you?
He remembered 1940, seeing his reflection in a mirror. 'I'm tired of samurais and katanas,' it said 'Let's go, Honda. Now's the time for an empire.'
It wasn't his reflection that said those decisive words. The Japan that looked back at him was darker, more dangerous. He called him Kuro, his darker half.
He remembered attacking China, bringing down his sword without a scrap of emotion. Seeing the inferno that was formerly a straight line of American ships. He made his name known through the world, soaked his hands with the blood of his conquests. He knew sacrifices were needed to make himself great. What terrified him was just how satisfied he felt painting the ocean with blood, bringing great nations to their knees. The way he would laugh at the thought of prison camps, just like Germany.
It was the first and only time he feared for his sanity.
… I shouldn't be thinking these things.
In 1945, he was the last of them* standing. He knew it was a losing battle. But Kuro was the one who led. He swore to fight until he died.
He did.
When America released the Little Boy, he was the one who dissolved. Kuro became no more.
Is he really gone, though?
….
….
I don't know.
If Kuro was one of them, he didn't know how he could face him again.
[This is in 2p! Russia's POV]
If there was one thing I truly hated, it was vodka. Why would you waste your potatoes on something that'll give you a shit hangover?
Okay, I'll never actually admit this, but this Russia's Moscow is pretty nice. Except that there are bars. Fucking. Everywhere.
Godammit, you Vodka bastard. I need a smoke.
Don't get me wrong, I love my Al. But even he gives me shit when I take problems into my own hands. Look, this might not be my Moscow, but it's still Moscow, and I prefer it dry, okay?
My phone chimed. How coincidental, it's the vodka bastard himself.
They know.
No dip, Sherlock. It's not like Kuro spends half his days complaining about that failed Pacific campaign.
*Them refers to the Axis powers
I APOLIGIZE FOR ANY OOC *slams forehead on ground*
R&R please! It's my fuel. *happily noms*