[Hetalia] [Netherlands/Indonesia] Freedom (Prologue/?)
Title : Freedom (Prologue/?)
Word Count : 1240
Rating : PG-13 (probably higher in later chapters :P)
Pairing : Netherlands x Indonesia
Notes : OH, IDEK. A historical fanfic from a girl who doesn't know much about history. But I tried hard, so there.
Disclaimer : Hetalia and Netherlands belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu. Indonesia is an OC for now so he belongs to me (NYAH!!!)
Summary : A story on the relationship between Netherlands and Indonesia before and after the declaration of Indonesia's independence.
PROCLAMATION
We, the people of Indonesia, hereby declare the independence of Indonesia.
Matters which concern the transfer of power and other things will be executed by careful means and in the shortest possible time.
Djakarta, 17 August 1945
In the name of the people of Indonesia,
Soekarno-Hatta
* * * * *
1945
"I've never heard you say anything about this." His new boss said in a casual tone, but Indonesia could sense a careful question laced behind the lines. Just a mere curiosity, but one that demanded an answer. That night was the night after Soekarno was appointed the first president of Indonesia. They were seating on the rattan chairs across each other on the veranda. The night air was as warm as usual, clouded by the smoke from their lit cigarettes.
Indonesia. Finally, he could use that name freely. He had been called many names before. Indian Archipelago, Malayan Archipelago, Maleische Archipel, Nederlandsch Oost Indië and probably many more that he didn't care to remember. None of them he loved more than 'Indonesia'. Since the first time it was uttered by the people, he had recognized it as his name. His people, his children loved that name. His scholars and youths wrote that name when they wrote about him.
Netherlands hated it. He and his people never called and firmly refused to call Indonesia with it. Is it because the name reminds him that one day I would break away from his grasp and belong to him no more? He felt a small pang of hurt in his heart. It shouldn't bother him this much.
"This is what the people want." Indonesia answered. "This is what I want." He said it firmly before taking a drag of smoke. He didn't know who he was trying to assure, his boss or himself.
Soekarno stared at him, his expression unreadable. "But you don't hate him." It wasn't a question nor an accusation. Just a simple statement born from a long observation. And he knew his boss wasn’t talking about Japan.
Japan, whose three short years of occupation left nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth and scars all over his body. Stupid nation with his stupid ‘big brother’ propaganda shit who brought stupid war that didn't concern Indonesia to his doorstep. It was still fresh on his mind, aches inside his body when thousands of his men were killed. He could also still hear the screams of his women, tainted and dishonored.
"I don't hate him." Not him, though. Not Netherlands. He could never bring himself to hate the taller man. And he would never deny that fact, either. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to be free of him."
They were silent for a while. Each with his own thoughts. Indonesia looked at his left hand, the one not holding his cigarette, and flexed it. He had always been free, on his own, yet not alone. He was a nation. A personification of land mass and vast body of water. He was the sunrise of Mount Bromo and the sunset of Tanah Lot, the towering trees of Borneo and the endemic wildlife of Celebes, the dense forests of Papua and the hills and valleys of Sumatra, the rice fields of Java and aromatic spices of Moluccas. All of those were free, existing under the limitless sky. But he was also the flesh and blood of his people. The people that were imprisoned by Dutch imperialism. Did that make him as encaged as they felt?
He clenched his hand. He should have been ashamed. So many of his people sacrificed themselves for this freedom. Yet here he was, missing the rough touch and the mocking gaze and that nauseating smell of cheese the other nation carried. Why would he feel so conflicted over this? He should have hated that bastard whose people treat his people like nothing but slaves and dogs. No, the independence was for the best. It was the best for his people and his lands. So it must be the best for him too.
"You've never told me your name either." His boss said again, drawing him from his thoughts, and before Indonesia could answer him he said again, "Your human name."
"...It's Eka." The first child, it meant. And Soekarno chuckled.
"I should have expected that..."
* * * * *
1500
As far as he remembered, he was always on his own, yet not alone. Unlike other children that he often saw in villages, he had no 'mother' and no 'father'. He had no one to call him into a house when the sun had set, he had no one to protect him from the roars of jungle's beasts, or shelter him from the roaring storms.
It wasn't that any of these things bothered him. The beasts, despite their fierce eyes and sharp teeth, had never tried to hurt him. If anything, they were friendly - snuggling with him inside dark caves or on top of sturdy branches of hundred-years-old trees or bringing him jungle fruits and fresh, bloody meat to eat. And the sound of storms was always as calming as the song of birds above his head.
What bothered him was the fact that he was, for a lack of better word, different. He first noticed this when he played with the children on a village by the sea. They were keeping their heads inside the water, trying to see who could hold their breaths the longest, and he always won. He didn't know why he should hold his breath, for he could breathe in the water as normally as he would on the land.
One of the children, a girl that looked no older than himself, asked him to teach her. So he dragged her into the deeper side of the sea, deeper than they were tall, and helped keeping her down at the bottom by holding her hand. He watched with fascination as bubbles went out of her mouth. He watched as she scrunched up in pain, scratching at his hand in panic. He watched as her hand and face went slack and bluish pale, her eyes wide and empty, her mouth forming a wide O. He watched as she floated up, never letting her hand go. He promised her that he would help her, after all.
He didn't understand why a large hand suddenly pulled both of them to the sandy beach. He recognized him as one of the village's fishermen. A woman, who he knew was the girl's mother, screamed and cried as she clutched her still daughter. That's weird, now why isn't she breathing?
The villagers crowding around them were staring at him, fear and anger and hate in their dark eyes. He was still confused when the first coral hit his head. Followed by another. And another. Almost all of the villagers were pelting him with hard corals and stones. He screamed at them, pleading at them to stop, shielding his bleeding head with his arms. He could hear their own screams of anger, calling him a demon, devil. He had never been that afraid in his life.
He turned his back on them, running and swimming into the sea, letting the cold water embrace him and shield him from the thrown stones that had yet to stop. The salt stung his wounds. It was so bad he cried for the first time. His tears dissolved into the water, and he didn't stop swimming.
* * * * *
A/N : Oh God I need a beta reader so bad *cries*
Notes
- The area which we now know as modern Indonesia was first unified by the empire of Majapahit (1293-1500) on its Golden Age. Led by Hayam Wuruk, the 4th king and his famous prime minister, Gadjah Mada. So I assumed that Indonesia-kun was born around that time :P
- Europeans arrived in Indonesia from the 16th century seeking to monopolise the sources of valuable nutmeg, cloves, and pepper in Maluku. In 1602 the Dutch established the Dutch East India Company (VOC) and became the dominant European power. Following bankruptcy, the VOC was formally dissolved in 1800, and the government of the Netherlands established the Dutch East Indies as a nationalised colony. By the early 20th century Dutch dominance extended to what was to become Indonesia's current boundaries.
- During World War II, Japan's invasion and subsequent occupation ended Dutch rule. The most lasting and profound effects of the occupation were, however, on the Indonesian people. Initially, most had optimistically and even joyfully welcomed the Japanese as liberators from their Dutch colonial masters. This sentiment quickly changed as the occupation turned out to be the most oppressive and ruinous colonial regime in Indonesian history.
- Two days after the surrender of Japan in August 1945, nationalist leader, Soekarno, declared independence and was appointed president with Mohammad Hatta, fellow nationalist, as vice-president.
Word Count : 1240
Rating : PG-13 (probably higher in later chapters :P)
Pairing : Netherlands x Indonesia
Notes : OH, IDEK. A historical fanfic from a girl who doesn't know much about history. But I tried hard, so there.
Disclaimer : Hetalia and Netherlands belongs to Himaruya Hidekazu. Indonesia is an OC for now so he belongs to me (NYAH!!!)
Summary : A story on the relationship between Netherlands and Indonesia before and after the declaration of Indonesia's independence.
PROCLAMATION
We, the people of Indonesia, hereby declare the independence of Indonesia.
Matters which concern the transfer of power and other things will be executed by careful means and in the shortest possible time.
Djakarta, 17 August 1945
In the name of the people of Indonesia,
Soekarno-Hatta
* * * * *
1945
"I've never heard you say anything about this." His new boss said in a casual tone, but Indonesia could sense a careful question laced behind the lines. Just a mere curiosity, but one that demanded an answer. That night was the night after Soekarno was appointed the first president of Indonesia. They were seating on the rattan chairs across each other on the veranda. The night air was as warm as usual, clouded by the smoke from their lit cigarettes.
Indonesia. Finally, he could use that name freely. He had been called many names before. Indian Archipelago, Malayan Archipelago, Maleische Archipel, Nederlandsch Oost Indië and probably many more that he didn't care to remember. None of them he loved more than 'Indonesia'. Since the first time it was uttered by the people, he had recognized it as his name. His people, his children loved that name. His scholars and youths wrote that name when they wrote about him.
Netherlands hated it. He and his people never called and firmly refused to call Indonesia with it. Is it because the name reminds him that one day I would break away from his grasp and belong to him no more? He felt a small pang of hurt in his heart. It shouldn't bother him this much.
"This is what the people want." Indonesia answered. "This is what I want." He said it firmly before taking a drag of smoke. He didn't know who he was trying to assure, his boss or himself.
Soekarno stared at him, his expression unreadable. "But you don't hate him." It wasn't a question nor an accusation. Just a simple statement born from a long observation. And he knew his boss wasn’t talking about Japan.
Japan, whose three short years of occupation left nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth and scars all over his body. Stupid nation with his stupid ‘big brother’ propaganda shit who brought stupid war that didn't concern Indonesia to his doorstep. It was still fresh on his mind, aches inside his body when thousands of his men were killed. He could also still hear the screams of his women, tainted and dishonored.
"I don't hate him." Not him, though. Not Netherlands. He could never bring himself to hate the taller man. And he would never deny that fact, either. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to be free of him."
They were silent for a while. Each with his own thoughts. Indonesia looked at his left hand, the one not holding his cigarette, and flexed it. He had always been free, on his own, yet not alone. He was a nation. A personification of land mass and vast body of water. He was the sunrise of Mount Bromo and the sunset of Tanah Lot, the towering trees of Borneo and the endemic wildlife of Celebes, the dense forests of Papua and the hills and valleys of Sumatra, the rice fields of Java and aromatic spices of Moluccas. All of those were free, existing under the limitless sky. But he was also the flesh and blood of his people. The people that were imprisoned by Dutch imperialism. Did that make him as encaged as they felt?
He clenched his hand. He should have been ashamed. So many of his people sacrificed themselves for this freedom. Yet here he was, missing the rough touch and the mocking gaze and that nauseating smell of cheese the other nation carried. Why would he feel so conflicted over this? He should have hated that bastard whose people treat his people like nothing but slaves and dogs. No, the independence was for the best. It was the best for his people and his lands. So it must be the best for him too.
"You've never told me your name either." His boss said again, drawing him from his thoughts, and before Indonesia could answer him he said again, "Your human name."
"...It's Eka." The first child, it meant. And Soekarno chuckled.
"I should have expected that..."
* * * * *
1500
As far as he remembered, he was always on his own, yet not alone. Unlike other children that he often saw in villages, he had no 'mother' and no 'father'. He had no one to call him into a house when the sun had set, he had no one to protect him from the roars of jungle's beasts, or shelter him from the roaring storms.
It wasn't that any of these things bothered him. The beasts, despite their fierce eyes and sharp teeth, had never tried to hurt him. If anything, they were friendly - snuggling with him inside dark caves or on top of sturdy branches of hundred-years-old trees or bringing him jungle fruits and fresh, bloody meat to eat. And the sound of storms was always as calming as the song of birds above his head.
What bothered him was the fact that he was, for a lack of better word, different. He first noticed this when he played with the children on a village by the sea. They were keeping their heads inside the water, trying to see who could hold their breaths the longest, and he always won. He didn't know why he should hold his breath, for he could breathe in the water as normally as he would on the land.
One of the children, a girl that looked no older than himself, asked him to teach her. So he dragged her into the deeper side of the sea, deeper than they were tall, and helped keeping her down at the bottom by holding her hand. He watched with fascination as bubbles went out of her mouth. He watched as she scrunched up in pain, scratching at his hand in panic. He watched as her hand and face went slack and bluish pale, her eyes wide and empty, her mouth forming a wide O. He watched as she floated up, never letting her hand go. He promised her that he would help her, after all.
He didn't understand why a large hand suddenly pulled both of them to the sandy beach. He recognized him as one of the village's fishermen. A woman, who he knew was the girl's mother, screamed and cried as she clutched her still daughter. That's weird, now why isn't she breathing?
The villagers crowding around them were staring at him, fear and anger and hate in their dark eyes. He was still confused when the first coral hit his head. Followed by another. And another. Almost all of the villagers were pelting him with hard corals and stones. He screamed at them, pleading at them to stop, shielding his bleeding head with his arms. He could hear their own screams of anger, calling him a demon, devil. He had never been that afraid in his life.
He turned his back on them, running and swimming into the sea, letting the cold water embrace him and shield him from the thrown stones that had yet to stop. The salt stung his wounds. It was so bad he cried for the first time. His tears dissolved into the water, and he didn't stop swimming.
* * * * *
A/N : Oh God I need a beta reader so bad *cries*
Notes
- The area which we now know as modern Indonesia was first unified by the empire of Majapahit (1293-1500) on its Golden Age. Led by Hayam Wuruk, the 4th king and his famous prime minister, Gadjah Mada. So I assumed that Indonesia-kun was born around that time :P
- Europeans arrived in Indonesia from the 16th century seeking to monopolise the sources of valuable nutmeg, cloves, and pepper in Maluku. In 1602 the Dutch established the Dutch East India Company (VOC) and became the dominant European power. Following bankruptcy, the VOC was formally dissolved in 1800, and the government of the Netherlands established the Dutch East Indies as a nationalised colony. By the early 20th century Dutch dominance extended to what was to become Indonesia's current boundaries.
- During World War II, Japan's invasion and subsequent occupation ended Dutch rule. The most lasting and profound effects of the occupation were, however, on the Indonesian people. Initially, most had optimistically and even joyfully welcomed the Japanese as liberators from their Dutch colonial masters. This sentiment quickly changed as the occupation turned out to be the most oppressive and ruinous colonial regime in Indonesian history.
- Two days after the surrender of Japan in August 1945, nationalist leader, Soekarno, declared independence and was appointed president with Mohammad Hatta, fellow nationalist, as vice-president.