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hetalia2009-08-06 01:04 am
eiliain.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2009-08-06 01:04 am
Fanfic: A Thousand Cranes
I'm actually posting? Did I get the date right? Oh my, I don't know any longer... It's 6/8 here already, anyways.
Title: A Thousand Cranes
Author/Artist: Antartique (me)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Japan
Rating: Dunno...
Warnings: None? Slightly insane Japan?
Summary: Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nothing less, nothing more.
Title: A Thousand Cranes
Author/Artist: Antartique (me)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Japan
Rating: Dunno...
Warnings: None? Slightly insane Japan?
Summary: Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nothing less, nothing more.
It was odd.
He had already decided it was really odd. Looking outside the window, seeing everything... gone.
Things weren't supposed to go this way, were they? The war was already over, Germany had surrendered. Why hadn't he?
Why hadn't he...
He stood. He just stood, a folded paper in his hand. He didn't even know where he was standing, on what were his feet on. He couldn't feel, couldn't hear, couldn't see... But he knew he was standing. Because if he didn't know that, then he didn't know anything. Not any longer, not when the war was over. Not when everything he knew to be true had just vanished before himself.
Where were his people? Where was everything?
Where had everything gone? Why was everything blank?
Then he wasn't standing any longer. Because there was no strength to make him stand upright, there was nobody holding his beliefs.
What did he fight for?
Nothing, perhaps. Or perhaps it was everything. Now what did he have to fight for?
Sanity?
Health?
Life?
None were important any longer, everything was gone and he was fading... Fading into nothingness, into darkness.
But he was here.
Wasn't he?
He was here, standing. Or was he sitting? Was he actually lying on the rubble of his cities?
Or was this all a dream, and he was still planning Pearl Harbor?
Perhaps this war was just his twisted dream. He had been cursed and that was why he was dreaming of war, of burning ships, of bombs falling from the sky and destroying his people, his soul.
Was it a dream?
It had to be a dream.
It can't be anything else.
And dreams aren't real.
They aren't.
And because they aren't, he can just ignore anything that happened. Tomorrow it will be better. Tomorrow nothing will be wrong, because this was a dream...
Right?
War didn't happen. No, it didn't. It was still 1939, and September 1st hadn't happened yet. Poland was still alright. Everything was tense, but they would be alright.
Because war hadn't happened. Nothing had happened, and everything was alright.
No war, no burning sheeps, no bombs falling from the sky and breaking his sanity.
Because he was still standing, and everything was just a dream.
Setting down the folded paper, he took another paper from the nothing of his dream, and slowly folded it in the shape he remembered so well.
He was still standing.
--
64 years, and he was still here. Everything was alive, everything was normal. Since there had never been a war, everything was fine. Peace, peace around the world, and they were discussing Global Warming.
And he was standing.
Looking out at the blooming cities. He was still standing.
Nine hundred ninety nine paper cranes stood together with him.
And he would keep standing, until his body collapsed. Then he would sit on a bed, folding paper cranes, his head straight and looking outside, looking at the blooming cities, cities that were never destroyed by a bomb falling from the sky, destroying his cities, his people, his life.
Because it had been all a dream, and he was still standing.
--
The first thread of paper cranes was hung from the usual place, one short from being a thousand.
And the last one was in his hand, perfectly folded, like always.
The final paper crane, to finish the sixty forth thread he had made, stood on his hand, ready to set fly to the unknown.
And then he threaded it to the others.
A thousand cranes tied together with hope and dreams from his people.
Because the war had been a dream, but his people did remember the nightmare they had been through when he had dreamed it.
Just like he did. Because it hadn't been a dream at all. The nothing had been there, and now it wasn't any longer.
So he wished, every year, that things would stay right this year too. And he folded a thousand cranes, every year, for his wish to come true.
This is our Cry.
This is our Prayer.
Peace in the World.
And he would keep on standing.
In here I'm making him start the crane tradition right after the bombings, to show the pass of time. Don't ask, ok, Children's Peace Memorial dates from I don't know, and the tradition started I don't know when.
I was supposed to be writing my entry for the literature contest at school, and then I thought 'crane!' because the chicken outside where acting crazy, and then I sort of remembered the Thousand Cranes for Peace, so this war born. It sucks, anyways. And the end, so rushed... Oh good Lords...
I apologize if it offended anyone, or whatever, and for my stupid attempt at trying to write something meaningful. This is my first post in the community! And my English ortography sucks, like always. Constructive criticism is encouraged, just don't beat me too bad...
So I should say something, but I won't.
Peace for August 6th.
That's all, I guess.
He had already decided it was really odd. Looking outside the window, seeing everything... gone.
Things weren't supposed to go this way, were they? The war was already over, Germany had surrendered. Why hadn't he?
Why hadn't he...
He stood. He just stood, a folded paper in his hand. He didn't even know where he was standing, on what were his feet on. He couldn't feel, couldn't hear, couldn't see... But he knew he was standing. Because if he didn't know that, then he didn't know anything. Not any longer, not when the war was over. Not when everything he knew to be true had just vanished before himself.
Where were his people? Where was everything?
Where had everything gone? Why was everything blank?
Then he wasn't standing any longer. Because there was no strength to make him stand upright, there was nobody holding his beliefs.
What did he fight for?
Nothing, perhaps. Or perhaps it was everything. Now what did he have to fight for?
Sanity?
Health?
Life?
None were important any longer, everything was gone and he was fading... Fading into nothingness, into darkness.
But he was here.
Wasn't he?
He was here, standing. Or was he sitting? Was he actually lying on the rubble of his cities?
Or was this all a dream, and he was still planning Pearl Harbor?
Perhaps this war was just his twisted dream. He had been cursed and that was why he was dreaming of war, of burning ships, of bombs falling from the sky and destroying his people, his soul.
Was it a dream?
It had to be a dream.
It can't be anything else.
And dreams aren't real.
They aren't.
And because they aren't, he can just ignore anything that happened. Tomorrow it will be better. Tomorrow nothing will be wrong, because this was a dream...
Right?
War didn't happen. No, it didn't. It was still 1939, and September 1st hadn't happened yet. Poland was still alright. Everything was tense, but they would be alright.
Because war hadn't happened. Nothing had happened, and everything was alright.
No war, no burning sheeps, no bombs falling from the sky and breaking his sanity.
Because he was still standing, and everything was just a dream.
Setting down the folded paper, he took another paper from the nothing of his dream, and slowly folded it in the shape he remembered so well.
He was still standing.
--
64 years, and he was still here. Everything was alive, everything was normal. Since there had never been a war, everything was fine. Peace, peace around the world, and they were discussing Global Warming.
And he was standing.
Looking out at the blooming cities. He was still standing.
Nine hundred ninety nine paper cranes stood together with him.
And he would keep standing, until his body collapsed. Then he would sit on a bed, folding paper cranes, his head straight and looking outside, looking at the blooming cities, cities that were never destroyed by a bomb falling from the sky, destroying his cities, his people, his life.
Because it had been all a dream, and he was still standing.
--
The first thread of paper cranes was hung from the usual place, one short from being a thousand.
And the last one was in his hand, perfectly folded, like always.
The final paper crane, to finish the sixty forth thread he had made, stood on his hand, ready to set fly to the unknown.
And then he threaded it to the others.
A thousand cranes tied together with hope and dreams from his people.
Because the war had been a dream, but his people did remember the nightmare they had been through when he had dreamed it.
Just like he did. Because it hadn't been a dream at all. The nothing had been there, and now it wasn't any longer.
So he wished, every year, that things would stay right this year too. And he folded a thousand cranes, every year, for his wish to come true.
This is our Cry.
This is our Prayer.
Peace in the World.
And he would keep on standing.
In here I'm making him start the crane tradition right after the bombings, to show the pass of time. Don't ask, ok, Children's Peace Memorial dates from I don't know, and the tradition started I don't know when.
I was supposed to be writing my entry for the literature contest at school, and then I thought 'crane!' because the chicken outside where acting crazy, and then I sort of remembered the Thousand Cranes for Peace, so this war born. It sucks, anyways. And the end, so rushed... Oh good Lords...
I apologize if it offended anyone, or whatever, and for my stupid attempt at trying to write something meaningful. This is my first post in the community! And my English ortography sucks, like always. Constructive criticism is encouraged, just don't beat me too bad...
So I should say something, but I won't.
Peace for August 6th.
That's all, I guess.
no subject
no subject
Thanks for the comment!
no subject
The tradition was started after the classmates of Sadako (the girl who died because of the radiation). Sadako herself started the cranes but died so as a tradition her classmates do it every year
THE MORE YOU KNOW
no subject
Ah, yes, I remember that. Sadako. Did she actually finish her thread? Some people say yes, other say no...
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Ever since I came across
Your style too, it's simply elegant and a light read, which makes it so refreshing to read. c:
no subject
I wanted to join the Cranes for Peace project here, with my class. However, although we are 46, I proposed the idea too late (June) and we had no chance to make them in time. They are a thousand, after all... One day I shall go to Hiroshima and pay my proper respect.
no subject
And the paper Crane's Sadako made are super tiny. D: I never imagined them being so small. I remember reading Sadako in the fourth grade. That story made my entire class cry. D;
and I should stop rambling on.
Anyways It was a sad, yet loveyly, story. Nicely done.
no subject
I have never gone to Hiroshima. I haven't gone out of South America, in fact. Still, I take this date as a global mourning day. And it makes me sad nobody at school, not even the ones taking the history path, remember what today is... I'm sure they will remember 11/09.
no subject
They'll remember 9/11 because people won't let them forget. Is probably what it is.Sad but True.
no subject
The sad thing about 9/11, is that Chileans don't even remember just how significant it is in OUR history. The mapuche tribes destroyed Santiago in 11/9. La Moneda was attacked and taken over by the military in 11/9. But everyone goes like 'Who cares about that?' when I mention it, it makes me too mad to even yell at them. It is our HISTORY, Chile. Please remember it.
I'm ranting, I apologize.
no subject
Its one of the things about our siciotey, now-a-days most kids don't care about history. And those who don't care about history and learn from it, are doomed to repeat it. Its very upsetting sometimes.
no subject
And why would we beat you, it was lovely. The combination of Japan's already present passive-aggressiveness and the shock of the bombings fit together so nicely! Although I feel really bad about saying 'nicely' in response to such a heart-wrenching piece of literature. Dx
Oh, Japan and your traditions and your determined soul! D'=
no subject
Ah, thank you. I didn't think I caught him well enough... And in fact, this is all a pretty bad piece of fanfiction. I shall erase it.
Thank you again!