Hetalia fanfiction: Outcast {Chapter 14}
This took a ridiculously long time to put out, I know. There are a lot of different reasons: I have been having serious issues to deal with regarding employment, my future, my (lack of) purpose in life, and depression. Still, I am very happy to have another chapter of Outcast to share. It is getting towards the end now; there are only two or three chapter left (maybe two and an epilogue).
That being said, as I am losing some steam, I am very worried about losing my touch. I am afraid that this chapter might not be as good as previous ones and that it will disappoint people who have patiently waited for it. I really hope that is not the case. I really hope it is a welcome addition to the story and that everyone who reads it will enjoy it. Thank you so much for your patience and support through my rough times.
Oh, and unfortunately the next chapter might take a long time too, because the aforementioned rough times are still going on. Fuu~ I need a job. But please enjoy this one and tell me what you think!
Warning: This chapter is kind of violent.
Outcast
By Angelsaurus
Chapter 14
Russia had a baby face, the kind with soft, doughy cheeks and such a mild smile. It made it all the more disconcerting to see the sharp glint of sadistic intent in his violet eyes as he circled the entity that was Torvald in Su-san’s body. Not that Torvald wasn’t himself utterly menacing; with his lips drawn back over fiercely clenched white teeth he looked even more like a bloodthirsty Viking than his likeness in paint did.
It was true that the real Su-san, Berwald Oxenstierna, had an imposing, almost frightening presence, but I was never actually scared of him. When I was with Berwald I felt safer than I ever had in my life. Torvald in war mode, on the other hand, terrified me down to the marrow inside my bones. It was surreal how despite this body and this face being rightfully Su-san’s, I could no longer see Su-san within them. The transformation was complete and now I was left with a dilemma: How could I ever hope to draw to the surface a boy I couldn’t even find?
No time to think about it, the fighting commenced when Russia launched a tight fist at Torvald’s face but was blocked by a forearm, which, to my double-blinking surprise, didn’t shatter. Maybe Su-san’s body was built from tougher stuff than I acknowledged. In retaliation, Torvald’s buckskin-covered leg swung out and crashed into Russia’s hip, causing him to stagger sideways a step. Whether or not it had caused any real pain, I didn’t know, but the fact that the attack actually made Russia stumble was enough to impress me.
Then, issuing a growl so loud we could hear it in the stands, Russia landed a vicious punch to Torvald’s torso that folded him and half and squeezed a wheezy cough from his lungs. I concluded that the only way that didn’t crack a rib was if Su-san’s skeleton was made of titanium.
But neither gladiator let the first blows hinder him. They circled again, like two territorial tigers, until Torvald struck suddenly with a right-left combo to Russia’s face that loosed a splatter of red and elicited gasps of horror from the audience. My heart thudded out an agitated rhythm. When Torvald’s fists pulled back I saw that he’d smashed Russia’s handsome nose so badly that it now pointed sharply to the left. Blood was oozing down from both nostrils, over his lip and into his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care, or maybe didn’t even notice. He countered with a direct hit to the corner of Torvald’s jaw that made his head spin and coupled the action with a boisterous baritone laugh.
“You are feisty, da?” Russia asked as he grasped his broken nose between his thumb and forefinger and bent it back towards center without even cringing. His tongue flicked, lizard-like, over his bloody lips and the taste made his eyes even more excited. The up-close, slow motion replay on the screen was almost too horrific to watch. But of course I did anyways.
Dammit! I was wasting time getting caught up in the fight; I had to think! Think, Tino! Think! Blood was already being spilled and I had no idea how I was going to pull off my maneuver. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still hear the fight: the shuffling of boots, the packing sounds of knuckles on firmly muscled flesh, and the shouts and cries and whoops from the audience. So I covered my ears with tightly fisted hands.
Shutting out the noises from outside intensified the noises from inside; each beat of my heart, each pulse of blood through my arteries, was like the boom of a passing bullet train. I had to fight all distractions!
How was I going to break Su-san out of the glass mouse cage that Torvald described? I thought back to the other times when I’d seen control of his body switch over. Twice I was witness to Torvald awakening and overpowering Su-san and both times I’d had a significant, albeit unintentional, role in the transformation. But the only time that Su-san reclaimed control in my presence occurred while he was feverishly asleep.
I recalled China’s explanation, that Su-san’s soaring body temperature and comatose state were because he was fighting Torvald for control. It had been an internal battle and Su-san had won it. But how? What could have given him the strength to overcome and was there any way I could remind him of it?
The crowd emitted a collective gasp loud enough to get through my hands and into my ears and my eyes shot open just in time to see Russia turn his head and spit out what I am quite sure was a tooth, along with a good deal of blood. I couldn’t help wondering how much he’d already lost from his broken nose; the front of his white shirt was now spattered with red and it appeared to still be flowing. And yet Russia was still throwing punches, undaunted by these injuries.
Torvald was faring better, at least in terms of visible damage, as he ducked and weaved expertly. He seemed to have a more conservative fighting style than Russia, striking only when saw an opening, and it was working to his advantage.
The thought flitted through my brain that I could just let Torvald trounce him. They may not have mentioned it specifically, but I was sure the actual rules of the event assumed that members of the audience weren’t supposed to interfere. If Torvald won fair and square, I would face China. Is that what I was really afraid of? Was I just selfishly hoping to avoid having to fight my part?
A whoosh and a wham, Russia’s right combat boot slamming into Torvald/Su-san’s side, interjected my thought. No, it wasn’t about my fear of competing against China. I had to end this fight because two boys were getting hurt. Russia was just as innocent as Su-san, and even though he gave the impression of having a body of stone, he was still a mere human and felt pain just like anyone else. Damn, that busted nose had to be excruciating; I winced at the thought.
I had to get through to Su-san, to Berwald, the boy I was only just beginning to know but felt a longing for that I wanted so desperately to believe was more than infatuation. There was no time to waste pondering how.
I leapt up to my feet instinctually, jumped up on my seat, and cupped my hands on the sides of my mouth. Then I sucked in as much air as my lungs would hold and used every molecule of it to push out one great shout.
“BERWALD!”
The other members of the audience, Student Council and Founders’ Guild alike, momentarily diverted their attentions to me and I could feel their eyes on me, prickling my skin. But the warriors kept circling, kept flinging arms and legs at each other and landing skeleton-shaking hits.
I had to keep shouting. Louder. LOUDER.
“Berwald, It’s Tino! I know you can hear me! You’re in there, Berwald, trapped in your own body. Right now you are looking out through your eyes and watching as your hands beat another boy senseless. And through your ears you can hear the sounds of your fists hitting him but you are powerless to stop it. You’re trapped, Berwald, I know!”
Yes, he was trapped. What made me think that yelling to him would make any difference? If there were any way that he could break free, he would done it have already, right?
But the words kept flowing. A part of me, a very small part, wondered if Alessandro or the other Founders would catch on to what I was attempting and construe it as cheating, but that part was overruled by my need to end this fight. So I kept on yelling.
“If it wasn’t impossible, I know you would have overpowered Torvald on your own! But… but there has to be a way, Berwald!”
And as I shouted in what felt like futility, something strange began to happen. Torvald’s shoulders lifted and he lunged at Russia more violently than ever, pummeling him in the stomach over and over with left and right fists. Russia reeled backwards, stunned at the increased aggression, but Torvald pursued mercilessly, landing punch after brutal punch on Russia’s strong body and leaving no openings for retaliation.
It was as if my pleas to Su-san were spurring him to fight even more viciously, like a teased animal.
“Berwald, you can overcome his control! I know you can!” I had to get through before Russia was beaten to death. “He hates you! Torvald hates you and can’t stand the idea of you being happy! But you are stronger than he is! Even when he destroyed everything that you love, over and over, you kept going, kept living, because you are just that amazing!”
My head shook as I yelled and I felt something warm drop onto my hand, which was tightly balled in front of me. I looked down and blinked at the clear, glistening drop there, a tear, and when I trailed my fingertips over my cheek I was shocked to find it completely glazed. When did I start crying?
But almost as soon as I’d discovered the tears flowing down my face, the emotions that subconsciously triggered them washed over me like an enormous tidal wave. My throat suddenly felt sore and raw and my heart felt like it was being gripped in a massive, clawed hand. My deep longing and admiration for Su-san twisted around my fury towards Torvald into a complex knot in my belly.
“He killed your parents!” I snarled, my voice starting to warp into sobs at the edges. “He murdered them! He murdered Maren and poisoned Søren’s heart towards you! The two of you should have been like brothers! Just like brothers! But Torvald ruined it! He killed the boy who was Finland before me! You have to put him in his place! For all of them! And…”
For the first time during my outburst, the words played in my head before spilling from my mouth and they made a portion of the tight pain in my chest melt into a warm, beautiful ache that filled my whole body.
“And you have to because I can’t lose you, Berwald! I’ve only just found you and there is still so much I want to do together!” These feeling were selfish, I knew it, but I had to share them anyways; they were the only argument I had left. “I want to find out what your favorite food is and make it with you! I want to find out your favorite book and read it so we can talk about it! I want you to come home to Finland with me and meet my mom and dad!”
Each sentence I choked out through my tear-clogged senses was punctuated by one of Torvald’s fists pounding Russia’s massive body so hard it quaked.
“I… I want us to become like they are! Like my parents! Like England and America! And like Leopold and Evelyn! You have to regain control of your body and end this fight so that I can spend each day with you and love you more and more!”
I was shaking like the last leaf on a tree caught in a winter gale. My pleas weren’t helping Su-san. And now Torvald had Russia, too worn out to fight back anymore, trapped against the stone tower that Japan had won his event atop. He drew back his arm and aimed his knuckles to smash Russia’s skull against solid stone. Oh god, I couldn’t watch! Was this what all my shouting had led to? I collapsed to my knees, emotionally spent, my sobs silent and dry as I had used up my full supply of tears. For no other reason but to drown out the sound of Torvald’s finishing blow, I let out one last long cry of Berwald’s name.
“Berwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald!”
With my eyes squeezed shut, I didn’t see the actual impact, but I heard the audience react to it with gasps prolonged enough and loud enough that my yell couldn’t cover them completely. This was a clamor beyond any so far. What just happened? I bolted upright, eyes stretched open wide on the pair by the tower, but what I saw wasn’t a grisly scene of Russia’s head cracked open like an egg. He’d twisted away just in time and Torvald’s fist had collided with nothing but rock, burying itself in up to the wrist.
That must have been one hell of a punch!
But something was wrong. Why wasn’t Torvald moving? He just stood there, arm outstretched in front of him, hand lodged in the stone tower. Was he stuck? That didn’t seem possible; if he was strong enough to punch his hand into a wall he should he able to get it out with no problem. He wasn’t in a rage anymore, either. It was like he was frozen in place. But I couldn’t see his face for any clues as to why.
My eyes darted up to display screen, desperate for an answer, and the close up that greeted me made my heart leap for joy.
“Su-san!” The sight of those bright, blue-green eyes made me shout out his nickname like an exaltation up to heaven. He did it! Berwald took back control of his body! Now it was just a matter of him regaining his composure-at the moment, he looked completely stunned at being back in the driver’s seat and possibly a bit disoriented by the absence of his glasses-and giving up the match to Russia.
I watched the screen with a grin so wide it must have touched my ears on either side, waiting for Su-san to snap to it and forfeit for the sake of his own salvation. Had Russia noticed the change yet? I flicked my gaze over to him, to see how he was holding up, and my breath hitched in my throat.
Something was very, very wrong.
Russia’s eyes had changed too, from violet to an inhuman shade of magenta and his pupils were nothing more than black pinpricks. He looked like a monster out of my worst childhood nightmares. His nostrils, ringed with dark, thickening blood, flared. His lips, swollen and fissured, curled back from his teeth. What was happening to him? And what was he going to do to Su-san now?
An uppercut to the stomach so powerful it lifted Su-san’s feet off the ground answered my second question. He doubled over and vomited onto the floor, lurched, but didn’t fall over. Russia didn’t give him any time to recover; a fresh volley of punches came before Su-san could even stand up straight. There was absolutely no way Russia was going to step back and allow him to surrender.
“What… what is Russia doing?” I sputtered in horror.
“He’s winning is what he’s doing,” Germany said in a surprisingly cocky voice. “I don’t know what all that yelling you did was supposed to accomplish or if it had anything to do with this turnaround, but it looks like this fight is about to be over.”
No. No. No. No. No. “He’s not going to stop when he wins!” I said so squeakily that I knew neither Germany nor anyone else heard me. “Russia is going to kill Su-san!” As I said it-croaked it, really-I knew that it was absolutely true. I’d never seen a human being look the way that Russia did right now and I could feel in the pit of my stomach that he wouldn’t relent until Su-san was dead.
Every muscle in my body felt like it had just seized up. I was paralyzed.
“It’s the Blood Rage.”
I turned to the ghostly, familiar voice (apparently not paralyzed after all), and saw China standing on the stairs between the two seating sections.
Immediately, I jumped up and grabbed the sleeve of his red silk jacket. “Blood Rage? What’s Blood Rage? You know what’s wrong with Russia?”
China remained as still as the terra cotta soldier in his bedroom, and yet he seemed somehow insubstantial, like a strong gust of wind could dissipate him into dust at any moment. His eyes didn’t turn to meet mine and that terrified me more than anything. China was supposed to be my rock, the unflappable one who could reassure me that everything would be okay with nothing more than a look. And here he was, pale as paper, staring out at the arena and looking downright frightened. China wasn’t supposed to get frightened by anything.
“I’ve only actually seen it once before in my lifetime,” he answered, still without looking at me. “But I have read about it in ancient texts. Blood Rage is an exceedingly rare condition exclusive to a very few Eastern European bloodlines. But it was believed to have died out in the eighteenth century. I never thought that Ivan, or anyone else at this school, could be afflicted.”
Well, I couldn’t fault him for not considering the possibility of something he’d only seen once in his five hundred-year lifetime. “But what does it mean?” I asked in a panic. “How do we stop it?”
“Blood Rage is a neurological condition that in earlier centuries was attributed to demonic possession.” China’s explanation was rote and clinical, but his voice had an almost imperceptible tremor; he was making a concerted effort not to show emotion. “It means his brain has been temporarily rewired. The rational, thinking part has completely shut down and the only non-basic function he is capable of is violence. The only thing he feels is rage.”
“But is there any way to stop it?” I squawked.
“He won’t snap out of it until he kills his target or is knocked unconscious. And the latter will be an uphill battle. When possessed by the Blood Rage a human’s stamina and physical strength can increase as much as tenfold. Even Torvald, by far the strongest of the Founders’ Guild should have difficulty defending himself. But what I don’t understand is why he doesn’t seem to be fighting back at all. That is not like Torvald.”
“Because it isn’t him!” The words exploded from my mouth, laced with terror and guilt. “It isn’t Torvald that’s controlling Su-san’s body right now! It… it’s Su-san!”
“What?” China said sharply as he spun around. Finally, he was granting me the eye contact I’d been craving, but it didn’t supply any comfort; the fear I’d detected in his voice was now painted starkly on his face.
“L-look at his eyes!” I sputtered. “It’s Su-san!”
China turned his gaze back to the arena floor for a split second to confirm, but I was pretty sure he already believed me. “How did this happen?” he urgently asked when he was looking at me once again.
“I…” My voice cracked when I tried to speak. “I did it… I think. I mean, I was yelling to Su-san, trying to encourage him and help him regain control of his body. Then he could just surrender to Russia and this would all be done with. I know it was cheating but…!” My guilt over trying to cheat was completely dwarfed by the crushing guilt over accidentally putting Su-san’s life in mortal peril, but it gave me an idea and I grabbed the front of China’s Jacket in both fists. “Shouldn’t that disqualify our side?” I asked, bobbing my head hopefully. “I cheated so the match should be called off and Torvald declared the winner by default, right? Right?”
“There is nothing in the rules against shouting encouragement,” he said gravely. “According to the rules, the fight must continue. And even if there were solid grounds to end the match, all of us Founders together might find it impossible to stop Russia in this state. We are all very strong by human standards, but only Torvald is blessed with the physical strength of a god.”
I felt the blood in my veins run ice cold as the realization struck me what I would have to do. The only one who could save Su-san from the disaster I’d caused was the only person in the world I truly hated. And I was the only one who could call him out. There wasn’t any time to think about the decision; in a complete reversal of fortunes, Su-san was now backed against the same tower that Russia had been pinned to just minutes ago.
“Torvald! Get off your butt and help him!” I screamed, hands around my mouth once again. “If he dies, you die, and what kind of thoughtless husband would let himself be killed right in front of his wife’s eyes?” The words tasted bitter on their escape over my tongue; I hated to play into that psycho’s delusion that I was his reincarnated wife, but it was my only hope. Su-san’s only hope. “You have to fight, Torvald! For me! For your Astrid!”
Like a replay with the starring roles switched, Su-san flattened himself against the stone tower about to be brained by Russia’s fist. Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t end like this.
There was a split second, when Russia’s arm was pulled back but had yet to launch, in which the arena fell as silent as a tomb and I caught a glimpse of the terror in Su-san’s eyes. Their glistening surfaces reflected the clouded, crimson madness of Russia’s. All I could do now was pray that, just like in the earlier set-up, the prey would wriggle free in the nick of time.
No! I would do more than that! My role was still the same; it was just a different name I had to yell.
“Torvaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald!”
It was a war cry that grew into a roar like thunder as it tore from my throat and blended with the sound of Russia’s knuckles smashing into stone.
Stone.
Not Su-san’s skull.
Yes! The attack missed!
But all it took was the span of a blink for Su-san-no, Torvald now, it had to be-to have Russia’s throat gripped in his hand. Those crimson eyes bulged as Torvald’s fingers dug in beneath his jaw, lifted him in the air so that his boots dangled helplessly above the floor. Incredibly, Torvald had strength enough to immobilize Russia in the midst of his Blood Rage. But it didn’t look like it was going to end at immobilization.
Good god! Could neither of these two defeat the other in a fight without murdering him?
With a guttural snarl, Torvald slammed Russia’s back against the tower, shoved his skull roughly against the stone bricks. It made the tower shake and emit a low groan. Those two super-strength punches it had absorbed must have done some internal damage, but I didn’t realize just how much until I saw a menacing black crack snaking its way up from the fist-sized crater just centimeters away from Russia’s head. The low groan was growing into a loud rumble and bits of rock were starting to hail down onto the arena floor.
“Sacrebleu!” France exclaimed. “Ze tower iz going to fall!”
I hadn’t noticed it until I heard him, but the tower of stone was swaying. As the crack spread, it had forked into two that encircled the entire girth of the structure and now everything above the fissure line was tottering, threatening to topple. My heart felt like some small, helpless creature, paralyzed with fear inside the cage of my chest as I watched. Which way would it fall, towards us in the audience or away?
While the others jumped from their seats and scattered, I stayed rooted to the spot where I stood. Even when China pulled on my arm, I didn’t budge. Su-san was still standing at the base of the tower where Torvald was holding him and Russia hostage. No matter which way the tower fell, he was in the danger zone.
All of the sudden a crazy urge took hold of me. I shook my arm free of China’s grasp and with a gush of adrenaline vaulted the barrier that separated competitors from spectators. My landing was too hard to hit the ground running and in the half-second pause before I could rush forward, the tower fell.
On news programs, when witnesses to disasters are interviewed, they always say that it was nothing like in the movies. But as I stared, mouth agape, at the falling stone structure, I couldn’t disagree more; I felt just like a character in special effects laden summer blockbuster. But it was absolutely real. The tower careened away from the audience and fell against its twin on the opposite side of the arena with a thunderous crash.
And now both towers were falling.
The matched set came down too fast for me to do anything more than drop to the ground in a defensive curl. But it’s not as if anything I might have done could’ve changed the outcome. I couldn’t have saved Su-san from being crushed beneath the deluge of stone no matter how quick I was. The thought didn’t occur to me that I was in just as much danger as he was until I was already folded into a tight ball.
The sound was a long, deafening roar. The feel was an earthquake from below and a hail of shrapnel from above. I stayed in my tight curl until the rumbling ceased and when I opened my eyes I saw nothing. The collapse of the two towers had filled the entire stadium with an impenetrable, choking cloud of dust that clogged my lungs when I tried to breath and made me cough violently. From the sounds emerging around me-sound was all I had as there was absolutely no visual further than five centimeters in front of my eyes-everyone else was having the same reaction.
But even as my chest shook painfully and I gasped for any air I could get, all I could think about was Su-san. Was he alive? Had he somehow managed to survive like I had? I needed to see him but I couldn’t. I needed to run to him but I couldn’t even find my feet. I couldn’t scream his name.
As I tucked my nose and mouth into the neck hole of my shirt, lungs on fire, scratchy eyes trying desperately to make tears, I felt something wet touch the back of my neck and my arms. And then it was everywhere. It was raining. But of course, being deep under the earth I knew it couldn’t really be raining. Someone had turned on a sprinkler system I wasn’t even aware of until now and it was starting to wash away the fog of filth.
The air all around slowly became clearer and my skin and clothes became coated with a grimy mix of dust and water. Through the artificial rain I could finally make out the forms of two warriors amidst the piled up chunks of dripping rubble. Sweden’s body was straddling Russia’s, which was lying prostrate on the floor, and both his fists were pummeling Russia’s face without mercy. Berwald was alive, but he clearly was not in control of his body. And what about Russia? Was he…?
The fallen giant lifted his arm and relief swept through me; he wasn’t dead. But there wasn’t enough strength in him to push Torvald off or even to keep his arm aloft. It fell back limp at his side and I realized that it was a gesture of surrender.
“The winner of this match is Ancient Scandinavia!” Alessandro’s voice boomed over the hiss of the sprinklers. The fight had continued through the chaos only to end by one man’s fists, just as the rules intended.
But Torvald didn’t stop; he kept slamming his knuckles into Russia’s face. Each strike sounded like a hammer hitting a side of raw meat. Each strike felt like it was landing on the center of my own chest.
“Please, cease your attack!” Though he was obviously trying to be a calm voice of reason, there was a distinct edge of horror in Alessandro’s bellow. “Ancient Scandinavia, the match has ended! Step away from your opponent or you will be physically removed!”
I could tell from tone that the threat was not an idle one, but my memories of what China said, that only Torvald had supernatural strength, gave the words and undercurrent of futility to my ears. Alessandro and the other Founders trying to tear Torvald away from Russia would just be an opportunity for them to be needlessly hurt as well. I heard distant shoes start to move, but the footfalls right beneath me, my own, soon drowned out the sound. I was up and running towards Torvald and Russia before I realized that the reason was because I was the one who had to stop him.
The ruins of the two towers were coiled around the pair like twin snakes, as if the structures had willfully chosen to leave them untouched so that their fight could go uninterrupted. I scrambled over the wall of wet rocks, fast and clumsy with desperation, and as Torvald drew back Su-san’s left fist to deliver yet another punch, I grabbed his elbow with both hands and cried out.
“Stop this! Torvald, stop this fighting now!”
He froze in place, as if my voice had momentarily transformed him into a statue, and then he turned his head slowly towards me. His eyes were bottomless pits of ultramarine, the pupils reduced to pinpoints. His nostrils were flared and his chest heaving. In this state, splattered head to toe in blood, some of it his own but most of it Russia’s, he barely seemed human.
But as he stared at me, lucidity began to flow back into him; his eyes dilated and his breathing slowed. His shoulders relaxed.
“Astrid?” he asked in a breath.
I shook my head. “No. Tino.”
And suddenly he was Su-san again. His eyes flashed to their beautiful aquamarine and blinked in confusion at me. Then he looked down at Russia, collapsed beneath him, and horror leapt onto his face. His gaze darted between the bloodied, beaten face and his own red stained hands and I could tell that he’d witnessed what happened.
“I…” he uttered through a quivering jaw.
“No!” I yelled at him. “You didn’t do this!” But it didn’t seem to console him; the horror didn’t leave his face.
“Is he… dead?”
I had to stoop down and watch Russia’s chest slowly rise and fall before I could answer the question. “He’s still alive,” I said in as reassuring a tone as I could manage, though my insides squirmed at the thought of how bad his injuries were. “Torvald didn’t murder him. And you, Berwald, did nothing wrong.”
The rushing sound of water fell away as the sprinklers shut off and the quiet it left threw all other noises into sharp contrast. Alessandro’s feet stopped a few meters away. The remaining members of the audience continued to cough intermittently. Russia’s breathing was labored. Su-san and I were both silent.
He’d never looked so vulnerable to me as he did now, still on his knees, covered in blood and sweat and water and grit, staring hopelessly at destruction his body had wrought. One more time, he turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” was all he managed to utter before the lids of his eyes fell closed and he pitched forward.
I caught him, and when I did I could feel that his skin was already blazing hot. The war within was raging once more.
Although his weight was slowly dragging me to the ground and the heat from his body was scorching, I didn’t want to stop holding Su-san and felt a small twitch of resentment when Alessandro lifted him off of me and eased him onto the floor, on his back next to Russia. It was necessary, of course.
“That boy is on fire,” Alessandro gasped, and I wondered how much of the situation China had explained to him.
“What is the damage?” China’s voice asked, low, serious, and right on cue. I hadn’t heard his arrival as I had Alessandro’s, but here he was, pushing past his larger colleague with a strange, unspoken authority. When his eyes fell on Russia, his mouth set into a hard line.
“He’s been beaten unconscious,” I croaked. “But he’s alive. He… he’s going to be okay, right?” No matter how frightening I’d found him when he was awake and alert, it was impossible not to be scared for Russia-China had called him Ivan, I think-in his current condition. His nose was smashed to the side again, his eyes both swollen closed, his jaw was obviously broken, and his platinum hair was glued around his face with blood from seen and unseen wounds. I’d never seen a human being ravaged to the point where his face was no longer recognizable, and never would have thought it possible to live through such injuries.
“He needs to be taken to the infirmary right away,” said China, squatting at Russia’s side and pinching his wrist for a pulse. “He is lucky to be alive, but he might have a serious brain injury. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until he wakes up. And hopefully he will.”
The last sentence left me cold. Russia might not ever wake up? No! It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Not Russia. Not Su-san. Not America. Not even Germany’s paper cut should’ve happened. If blood had to be spilled, it should have been mine alone.
There’s still time for that, a little dark voice inside my head hissed.
It was true; because Torvald had won his fight, I had to face China, and, as the events had been growing progressively more gruesome, I knew I could expect something violent. Right now, however, Su-san’s welfare took precedence over all my other worries. I settled onto my knees by his sleeping head and pressed my palm against his cheek.
“He’s in the fevered state again,” I said anxiously, without taking my eyes from him. “He needs medicine to cool him down. An ice bath maybe.”
“We will do all we can for him,” said China and it sounded almost like a sigh. There was an unsettling absence of hope in his voice so subtle that someone less primed to it than I was would not likely perceive it.
At some point during the assessment, the other member of the Founders’ Guild and Student Council had floated down from the places they’d sought refuge during the calamity and now they flocked around the scene, their eyes heavy with concern in their dirty faces.
“Ze poor fellow’s face looks like a Picasso painting,” France said, a lighthearted comment but weighted with enough sympathy to make it acceptable.
I heard Italy let out a whimper, and from his previous behavior I surmised that he was probably clinging to Germany’s arm, but I didn’t look away from Su-san to confirm it. At that moment, the air all around me felt thick and my body felt heavy, like I was a lead plumb sunk to the bottom of a bucket of glue, unable and unmotivated to move. Su-san and Russia both needed immediate medical care, but I wanted time to suspend, just for a few minutes, so that I could collect my bearings right where I was.
But time doesn’t wait, and neither did China. “France, Germany, Italy, Japan,” he said firmly. “You will find a stretcher in hatch just below where we were all seated. Use it to transport Russia to the Founders’ infirmary. Alessandro, Leopold, Helena, and Amunet will be taking Sweden there, so you may follow them.”
Heads bobbed in complacency all around. Nobody questioned his instructions or why eight healthy bodies were required to transport just two injured, they just did what they were told. I swallowed what felt like a rock in my throat as Alessandro hoisted Sweden’s limp body up and over his shoulder. At last my eyes sought out a new target.
“I want to go with him,” I told China, staring intently at his face. “I need to be wherever Su-san is.”
China closed his long eyes and shook his head. “You and I must prepare for the final round of competition.”
“But…!” I blurted out, and he silenced me with a lifted hand.
“Sweden will be well cared for in your absence,” he said. “And you will be reunited with him when the match is over, no matter what the outcome is.”
I knew that these words were the most consolation China could give me under the circumstances. He was bound by the rules of the contest just as I was and he knew that any argument I made would be futile; this was him trying to keep me calm enough to compete. But I couldn’t imagine how I was going to concentrate on any sort of competition when Su-san was fighting to survive somewhere far from my sight.
And Su-san needed me to win.
It took all four unscathed members of the Student Council to carry Russia on his stretcher-one at each corner-but it only took Alessandro to carry Su-san like a rag doll over his shoulder. I had to wonder why China had charged the entire Founders’ Guild, excluding himself, with the task; his motives were as obscure as always.
As the two groups started transport the two invalids to the exit, one member of the Founders’ Guild broke off and came to speak to me and China. It was Evelyn, the embodiment of the Ancient Celtic Isles, who, despite being just as filthy as the rest of us, still managed to be stunningly beautiful. Her face bore no specific expression-perhaps the look of wounded pride I’d seen after her defeat had been neutralized by the latest victory for her side-and her arms were crossed over the front of her ruined green dress, not defiantly but cautiously.
“Yao, Finland,” she said. “Because of the condition of the stadium, your event will take place in the receiving room. The two of you may go there and wait for us. The rest of the Founders’ Guild will meet you there.”
I was about to ask her if the remaining members of the Student Council would also be join us, but she turned on heel and joined her colleagues so quickly that I didn’t have time. Maybe China could answer the question for me. If he didn’t, I would find out soon on my own.
I held in my breath while I watched Su-san being carried away, afraid that if I let out that air in my body the emotions I was keeping caged would spill out uncontrollably with it. When it was just me and China left I released my breath as a sigh of relief; I made it through the separation without an outburst and that made me feel a little bit stronger.
The brief window of time after the others had left but before China spoke and got us moving provided me an opportunity to take in the damage that had been done. Although the larger rubble was confined almost entirely to the arena floor, the dust had reached all the way to the far seats and combined with the sprinkler water to leave everything coated in muck. It was amazing that nobody had been hurt, but it was obviously going to take a lot of work to clean it all up.
“I, uh, I’m sorry about what happened to your stadium,” I told China sheepishly.
He shook his head with closed, tranquil eyes. “It is a risk we took into account when formulating these events,” he said. “There is no need for you to apologize.” He paused and opened his eyes, revealing a face that wasn’t his cool and detached usual. The remorse was sincere. “I do feel that I need to apologize to you, however. Although we considered the risks involved, none of us expected anyone to be hurt as seriously as America and Russia and Sweden were. For that, I am very regretful.”
I wetted my lips cautiously but my response came out on an impulse. “Don’t forget to tell that to them,” I said, and embarrassment immediately oozed into my chest. Who was I to be giving instructions to someone as old and wise as China?
My eyes sought his apologetically. He didn’t look upset or offended but surprised, blinking his dark eyes at me. Then his face softened into the gentle smile that was comforting and familiar to me.
“I will,” he said with a nod. “Now, let us walk together to the receiving room.”
“Alright,” I said. “You lead the way.”
I followed China out of the arena-while he navigated the rubble as silently and gracefully as a mountain lion, I stumbled and slipped and almost lost my balance several times-and I didn’t say another word until we were back in the elegant hallways of the Saint Hetalia underground.
“So, uh, I don’t suppose you have any ideas as to what this event might be, do you?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the framed artwork that adorned the walls.
“I’m afraid I know as little as you do, Finland,” he replied. “The years have taught us how to be very tight-lipped and none of my fellow Founders’ have let anything slip.”
I swallowed nervously and tried to keep a breezy tone. “You don’t think it’s anything violent though, right?”
China let out a small chuckle that helped ease my mind. “I don’t think so. A violent competition would not play to either of our strengths. Rest assured that this task is one that will put both of us on equal footing.” He paused and then added, “And try to have a little more faith in yourself. You are very competent Tino Väinämöinen. That being said…”
The end of his pep talk was left unsaid; we reached a door at the end of the labyrinth of halls and he gave his attention to opening it and letting me enter before him. I opened my mouth to ask him what he was about to say, but the déjà vu upon stepping into the next room caused other words to come out instead.
“Hey, this is the room where I first met the Founders’ Guild.” As I spoke, my gaze roamed over the platform and the elaborate, thrown-like chairs; it seemed like such a long time since I last saw them, but really it had only been a matter of hours.
“This is the receiving room,” China said.
“It’s a… a lot smaller than the stadium,” I said. Try as I might to make it just a casual observation, I couldn’t completely rid my tone of claustrophobia. It was only a small venue in comparison to our previous one, but it still made me feel self-conscious.
While I stood in front of the row of seats, anxiously shifting my weight between my two feet, too nervous to speak another word to China on my right, the door across from the one we’d used opened and the other Founders made their entrance. They were all dressed in fresh, stunning clothing from their beloved cultures-I couldn’t think up any logical explanation for how they did it, but by now I knew not to rely too heavily on logic at this school-and they moved as quietly as monks to their appointed chairs.
“Before we begin,” Alessandro said, still standing even after the others had all sat down. “I would like to inform both of you that Russia and Sweden, as well as America, are all in stable condition and are being treated for their injuries.”
By who? I wondered vaguely.
“Now we have come to the final event of this competition,” Alessandro continued. “This is the tie-breaking event and will determine definitively who gets custody of the Seven Stars and Seven Arrows of Saint Hetalia, and, by extension, the fate of us Founders. Are you both ready to begin?”
“I am ready,” China said serenely.
“I am too,” I said, less serenely. My heart was thumping madly again, thinking about Su-san and what the outcome of this event meant for his future. And then I heard China’s voice whisper something that I knew was meant only for me.
“I am not going to go easy on you,” he said.
It was the completion of the statement he’d abandoned at the door: “You are very competent Tino Väinämöinen. That being said, I am not going to go easy on you.”
My right hand flew to my chest and fingered the golden arrow pinned there. Whatever strength it was supposed to enhance in me, I prayed would help me out. If this was any sort of test of wisdom or intellect, I didn’t stand a chance against China.
Alessandro sank into his seat and spoke again. “The challenge facing each of you is quite simple…”
To be continued
{Chapter 15}
That being said, as I am losing some steam, I am very worried about losing my touch. I am afraid that this chapter might not be as good as previous ones and that it will disappoint people who have patiently waited for it. I really hope that is not the case. I really hope it is a welcome addition to the story and that everyone who reads it will enjoy it. Thank you so much for your patience and support through my rough times.
Oh, and unfortunately the next chapter might take a long time too, because the aforementioned rough times are still going on. Fuu~ I need a job. But please enjoy this one and tell me what you think!
Warning: This chapter is kind of violent.
Outcast
By Angelsaurus
Chapter 14
Russia had a baby face, the kind with soft, doughy cheeks and such a mild smile. It made it all the more disconcerting to see the sharp glint of sadistic intent in his violet eyes as he circled the entity that was Torvald in Su-san’s body. Not that Torvald wasn’t himself utterly menacing; with his lips drawn back over fiercely clenched white teeth he looked even more like a bloodthirsty Viking than his likeness in paint did.
It was true that the real Su-san, Berwald Oxenstierna, had an imposing, almost frightening presence, but I was never actually scared of him. When I was with Berwald I felt safer than I ever had in my life. Torvald in war mode, on the other hand, terrified me down to the marrow inside my bones. It was surreal how despite this body and this face being rightfully Su-san’s, I could no longer see Su-san within them. The transformation was complete and now I was left with a dilemma: How could I ever hope to draw to the surface a boy I couldn’t even find?
No time to think about it, the fighting commenced when Russia launched a tight fist at Torvald’s face but was blocked by a forearm, which, to my double-blinking surprise, didn’t shatter. Maybe Su-san’s body was built from tougher stuff than I acknowledged. In retaliation, Torvald’s buckskin-covered leg swung out and crashed into Russia’s hip, causing him to stagger sideways a step. Whether or not it had caused any real pain, I didn’t know, but the fact that the attack actually made Russia stumble was enough to impress me.
Then, issuing a growl so loud we could hear it in the stands, Russia landed a vicious punch to Torvald’s torso that folded him and half and squeezed a wheezy cough from his lungs. I concluded that the only way that didn’t crack a rib was if Su-san’s skeleton was made of titanium.
But neither gladiator let the first blows hinder him. They circled again, like two territorial tigers, until Torvald struck suddenly with a right-left combo to Russia’s face that loosed a splatter of red and elicited gasps of horror from the audience. My heart thudded out an agitated rhythm. When Torvald’s fists pulled back I saw that he’d smashed Russia’s handsome nose so badly that it now pointed sharply to the left. Blood was oozing down from both nostrils, over his lip and into his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care, or maybe didn’t even notice. He countered with a direct hit to the corner of Torvald’s jaw that made his head spin and coupled the action with a boisterous baritone laugh.
“You are feisty, da?” Russia asked as he grasped his broken nose between his thumb and forefinger and bent it back towards center without even cringing. His tongue flicked, lizard-like, over his bloody lips and the taste made his eyes even more excited. The up-close, slow motion replay on the screen was almost too horrific to watch. But of course I did anyways.
Dammit! I was wasting time getting caught up in the fight; I had to think! Think, Tino! Think! Blood was already being spilled and I had no idea how I was going to pull off my maneuver. I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could still hear the fight: the shuffling of boots, the packing sounds of knuckles on firmly muscled flesh, and the shouts and cries and whoops from the audience. So I covered my ears with tightly fisted hands.
Shutting out the noises from outside intensified the noises from inside; each beat of my heart, each pulse of blood through my arteries, was like the boom of a passing bullet train. I had to fight all distractions!
How was I going to break Su-san out of the glass mouse cage that Torvald described? I thought back to the other times when I’d seen control of his body switch over. Twice I was witness to Torvald awakening and overpowering Su-san and both times I’d had a significant, albeit unintentional, role in the transformation. But the only time that Su-san reclaimed control in my presence occurred while he was feverishly asleep.
I recalled China’s explanation, that Su-san’s soaring body temperature and comatose state were because he was fighting Torvald for control. It had been an internal battle and Su-san had won it. But how? What could have given him the strength to overcome and was there any way I could remind him of it?
The crowd emitted a collective gasp loud enough to get through my hands and into my ears and my eyes shot open just in time to see Russia turn his head and spit out what I am quite sure was a tooth, along with a good deal of blood. I couldn’t help wondering how much he’d already lost from his broken nose; the front of his white shirt was now spattered with red and it appeared to still be flowing. And yet Russia was still throwing punches, undaunted by these injuries.
Torvald was faring better, at least in terms of visible damage, as he ducked and weaved expertly. He seemed to have a more conservative fighting style than Russia, striking only when saw an opening, and it was working to his advantage.
The thought flitted through my brain that I could just let Torvald trounce him. They may not have mentioned it specifically, but I was sure the actual rules of the event assumed that members of the audience weren’t supposed to interfere. If Torvald won fair and square, I would face China. Is that what I was really afraid of? Was I just selfishly hoping to avoid having to fight my part?
A whoosh and a wham, Russia’s right combat boot slamming into Torvald/Su-san’s side, interjected my thought. No, it wasn’t about my fear of competing against China. I had to end this fight because two boys were getting hurt. Russia was just as innocent as Su-san, and even though he gave the impression of having a body of stone, he was still a mere human and felt pain just like anyone else. Damn, that busted nose had to be excruciating; I winced at the thought.
I had to get through to Su-san, to Berwald, the boy I was only just beginning to know but felt a longing for that I wanted so desperately to believe was more than infatuation. There was no time to waste pondering how.
I leapt up to my feet instinctually, jumped up on my seat, and cupped my hands on the sides of my mouth. Then I sucked in as much air as my lungs would hold and used every molecule of it to push out one great shout.
“BERWALD!”
The other members of the audience, Student Council and Founders’ Guild alike, momentarily diverted their attentions to me and I could feel their eyes on me, prickling my skin. But the warriors kept circling, kept flinging arms and legs at each other and landing skeleton-shaking hits.
I had to keep shouting. Louder. LOUDER.
“Berwald, It’s Tino! I know you can hear me! You’re in there, Berwald, trapped in your own body. Right now you are looking out through your eyes and watching as your hands beat another boy senseless. And through your ears you can hear the sounds of your fists hitting him but you are powerless to stop it. You’re trapped, Berwald, I know!”
Yes, he was trapped. What made me think that yelling to him would make any difference? If there were any way that he could break free, he would done it have already, right?
But the words kept flowing. A part of me, a very small part, wondered if Alessandro or the other Founders would catch on to what I was attempting and construe it as cheating, but that part was overruled by my need to end this fight. So I kept on yelling.
“If it wasn’t impossible, I know you would have overpowered Torvald on your own! But… but there has to be a way, Berwald!”
And as I shouted in what felt like futility, something strange began to happen. Torvald’s shoulders lifted and he lunged at Russia more violently than ever, pummeling him in the stomach over and over with left and right fists. Russia reeled backwards, stunned at the increased aggression, but Torvald pursued mercilessly, landing punch after brutal punch on Russia’s strong body and leaving no openings for retaliation.
It was as if my pleas to Su-san were spurring him to fight even more viciously, like a teased animal.
“Berwald, you can overcome his control! I know you can!” I had to get through before Russia was beaten to death. “He hates you! Torvald hates you and can’t stand the idea of you being happy! But you are stronger than he is! Even when he destroyed everything that you love, over and over, you kept going, kept living, because you are just that amazing!”
My head shook as I yelled and I felt something warm drop onto my hand, which was tightly balled in front of me. I looked down and blinked at the clear, glistening drop there, a tear, and when I trailed my fingertips over my cheek I was shocked to find it completely glazed. When did I start crying?
But almost as soon as I’d discovered the tears flowing down my face, the emotions that subconsciously triggered them washed over me like an enormous tidal wave. My throat suddenly felt sore and raw and my heart felt like it was being gripped in a massive, clawed hand. My deep longing and admiration for Su-san twisted around my fury towards Torvald into a complex knot in my belly.
“He killed your parents!” I snarled, my voice starting to warp into sobs at the edges. “He murdered them! He murdered Maren and poisoned Søren’s heart towards you! The two of you should have been like brothers! Just like brothers! But Torvald ruined it! He killed the boy who was Finland before me! You have to put him in his place! For all of them! And…”
For the first time during my outburst, the words played in my head before spilling from my mouth and they made a portion of the tight pain in my chest melt into a warm, beautiful ache that filled my whole body.
“And you have to because I can’t lose you, Berwald! I’ve only just found you and there is still so much I want to do together!” These feeling were selfish, I knew it, but I had to share them anyways; they were the only argument I had left. “I want to find out what your favorite food is and make it with you! I want to find out your favorite book and read it so we can talk about it! I want you to come home to Finland with me and meet my mom and dad!”
Each sentence I choked out through my tear-clogged senses was punctuated by one of Torvald’s fists pounding Russia’s massive body so hard it quaked.
“I… I want us to become like they are! Like my parents! Like England and America! And like Leopold and Evelyn! You have to regain control of your body and end this fight so that I can spend each day with you and love you more and more!”
I was shaking like the last leaf on a tree caught in a winter gale. My pleas weren’t helping Su-san. And now Torvald had Russia, too worn out to fight back anymore, trapped against the stone tower that Japan had won his event atop. He drew back his arm and aimed his knuckles to smash Russia’s skull against solid stone. Oh god, I couldn’t watch! Was this what all my shouting had led to? I collapsed to my knees, emotionally spent, my sobs silent and dry as I had used up my full supply of tears. For no other reason but to drown out the sound of Torvald’s finishing blow, I let out one last long cry of Berwald’s name.
“Berwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald!”
With my eyes squeezed shut, I didn’t see the actual impact, but I heard the audience react to it with gasps prolonged enough and loud enough that my yell couldn’t cover them completely. This was a clamor beyond any so far. What just happened? I bolted upright, eyes stretched open wide on the pair by the tower, but what I saw wasn’t a grisly scene of Russia’s head cracked open like an egg. He’d twisted away just in time and Torvald’s fist had collided with nothing but rock, burying itself in up to the wrist.
That must have been one hell of a punch!
But something was wrong. Why wasn’t Torvald moving? He just stood there, arm outstretched in front of him, hand lodged in the stone tower. Was he stuck? That didn’t seem possible; if he was strong enough to punch his hand into a wall he should he able to get it out with no problem. He wasn’t in a rage anymore, either. It was like he was frozen in place. But I couldn’t see his face for any clues as to why.
My eyes darted up to display screen, desperate for an answer, and the close up that greeted me made my heart leap for joy.
“Su-san!” The sight of those bright, blue-green eyes made me shout out his nickname like an exaltation up to heaven. He did it! Berwald took back control of his body! Now it was just a matter of him regaining his composure-at the moment, he looked completely stunned at being back in the driver’s seat and possibly a bit disoriented by the absence of his glasses-and giving up the match to Russia.
I watched the screen with a grin so wide it must have touched my ears on either side, waiting for Su-san to snap to it and forfeit for the sake of his own salvation. Had Russia noticed the change yet? I flicked my gaze over to him, to see how he was holding up, and my breath hitched in my throat.
Something was very, very wrong.
Russia’s eyes had changed too, from violet to an inhuman shade of magenta and his pupils were nothing more than black pinpricks. He looked like a monster out of my worst childhood nightmares. His nostrils, ringed with dark, thickening blood, flared. His lips, swollen and fissured, curled back from his teeth. What was happening to him? And what was he going to do to Su-san now?
An uppercut to the stomach so powerful it lifted Su-san’s feet off the ground answered my second question. He doubled over and vomited onto the floor, lurched, but didn’t fall over. Russia didn’t give him any time to recover; a fresh volley of punches came before Su-san could even stand up straight. There was absolutely no way Russia was going to step back and allow him to surrender.
“What… what is Russia doing?” I sputtered in horror.
“He’s winning is what he’s doing,” Germany said in a surprisingly cocky voice. “I don’t know what all that yelling you did was supposed to accomplish or if it had anything to do with this turnaround, but it looks like this fight is about to be over.”
No. No. No. No. No. “He’s not going to stop when he wins!” I said so squeakily that I knew neither Germany nor anyone else heard me. “Russia is going to kill Su-san!” As I said it-croaked it, really-I knew that it was absolutely true. I’d never seen a human being look the way that Russia did right now and I could feel in the pit of my stomach that he wouldn’t relent until Su-san was dead.
Every muscle in my body felt like it had just seized up. I was paralyzed.
“It’s the Blood Rage.”
I turned to the ghostly, familiar voice (apparently not paralyzed after all), and saw China standing on the stairs between the two seating sections.
Immediately, I jumped up and grabbed the sleeve of his red silk jacket. “Blood Rage? What’s Blood Rage? You know what’s wrong with Russia?”
China remained as still as the terra cotta soldier in his bedroom, and yet he seemed somehow insubstantial, like a strong gust of wind could dissipate him into dust at any moment. His eyes didn’t turn to meet mine and that terrified me more than anything. China was supposed to be my rock, the unflappable one who could reassure me that everything would be okay with nothing more than a look. And here he was, pale as paper, staring out at the arena and looking downright frightened. China wasn’t supposed to get frightened by anything.
“I’ve only actually seen it once before in my lifetime,” he answered, still without looking at me. “But I have read about it in ancient texts. Blood Rage is an exceedingly rare condition exclusive to a very few Eastern European bloodlines. But it was believed to have died out in the eighteenth century. I never thought that Ivan, or anyone else at this school, could be afflicted.”
Well, I couldn’t fault him for not considering the possibility of something he’d only seen once in his five hundred-year lifetime. “But what does it mean?” I asked in a panic. “How do we stop it?”
“Blood Rage is a neurological condition that in earlier centuries was attributed to demonic possession.” China’s explanation was rote and clinical, but his voice had an almost imperceptible tremor; he was making a concerted effort not to show emotion. “It means his brain has been temporarily rewired. The rational, thinking part has completely shut down and the only non-basic function he is capable of is violence. The only thing he feels is rage.”
“But is there any way to stop it?” I squawked.
“He won’t snap out of it until he kills his target or is knocked unconscious. And the latter will be an uphill battle. When possessed by the Blood Rage a human’s stamina and physical strength can increase as much as tenfold. Even Torvald, by far the strongest of the Founders’ Guild should have difficulty defending himself. But what I don’t understand is why he doesn’t seem to be fighting back at all. That is not like Torvald.”
“Because it isn’t him!” The words exploded from my mouth, laced with terror and guilt. “It isn’t Torvald that’s controlling Su-san’s body right now! It… it’s Su-san!”
“What?” China said sharply as he spun around. Finally, he was granting me the eye contact I’d been craving, but it didn’t supply any comfort; the fear I’d detected in his voice was now painted starkly on his face.
“L-look at his eyes!” I sputtered. “It’s Su-san!”
China turned his gaze back to the arena floor for a split second to confirm, but I was pretty sure he already believed me. “How did this happen?” he urgently asked when he was looking at me once again.
“I…” My voice cracked when I tried to speak. “I did it… I think. I mean, I was yelling to Su-san, trying to encourage him and help him regain control of his body. Then he could just surrender to Russia and this would all be done with. I know it was cheating but…!” My guilt over trying to cheat was completely dwarfed by the crushing guilt over accidentally putting Su-san’s life in mortal peril, but it gave me an idea and I grabbed the front of China’s Jacket in both fists. “Shouldn’t that disqualify our side?” I asked, bobbing my head hopefully. “I cheated so the match should be called off and Torvald declared the winner by default, right? Right?”
“There is nothing in the rules against shouting encouragement,” he said gravely. “According to the rules, the fight must continue. And even if there were solid grounds to end the match, all of us Founders together might find it impossible to stop Russia in this state. We are all very strong by human standards, but only Torvald is blessed with the physical strength of a god.”
I felt the blood in my veins run ice cold as the realization struck me what I would have to do. The only one who could save Su-san from the disaster I’d caused was the only person in the world I truly hated. And I was the only one who could call him out. There wasn’t any time to think about the decision; in a complete reversal of fortunes, Su-san was now backed against the same tower that Russia had been pinned to just minutes ago.
“Torvald! Get off your butt and help him!” I screamed, hands around my mouth once again. “If he dies, you die, and what kind of thoughtless husband would let himself be killed right in front of his wife’s eyes?” The words tasted bitter on their escape over my tongue; I hated to play into that psycho’s delusion that I was his reincarnated wife, but it was my only hope. Su-san’s only hope. “You have to fight, Torvald! For me! For your Astrid!”
Like a replay with the starring roles switched, Su-san flattened himself against the stone tower about to be brained by Russia’s fist. Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t end like this.
There was a split second, when Russia’s arm was pulled back but had yet to launch, in which the arena fell as silent as a tomb and I caught a glimpse of the terror in Su-san’s eyes. Their glistening surfaces reflected the clouded, crimson madness of Russia’s. All I could do now was pray that, just like in the earlier set-up, the prey would wriggle free in the nick of time.
No! I would do more than that! My role was still the same; it was just a different name I had to yell.
“Torvaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaald!”
It was a war cry that grew into a roar like thunder as it tore from my throat and blended with the sound of Russia’s knuckles smashing into stone.
Stone.
Not Su-san’s skull.
Yes! The attack missed!
But all it took was the span of a blink for Su-san-no, Torvald now, it had to be-to have Russia’s throat gripped in his hand. Those crimson eyes bulged as Torvald’s fingers dug in beneath his jaw, lifted him in the air so that his boots dangled helplessly above the floor. Incredibly, Torvald had strength enough to immobilize Russia in the midst of his Blood Rage. But it didn’t look like it was going to end at immobilization.
Good god! Could neither of these two defeat the other in a fight without murdering him?
With a guttural snarl, Torvald slammed Russia’s back against the tower, shoved his skull roughly against the stone bricks. It made the tower shake and emit a low groan. Those two super-strength punches it had absorbed must have done some internal damage, but I didn’t realize just how much until I saw a menacing black crack snaking its way up from the fist-sized crater just centimeters away from Russia’s head. The low groan was growing into a loud rumble and bits of rock were starting to hail down onto the arena floor.
“Sacrebleu!” France exclaimed. “Ze tower iz going to fall!”
I hadn’t noticed it until I heard him, but the tower of stone was swaying. As the crack spread, it had forked into two that encircled the entire girth of the structure and now everything above the fissure line was tottering, threatening to topple. My heart felt like some small, helpless creature, paralyzed with fear inside the cage of my chest as I watched. Which way would it fall, towards us in the audience or away?
While the others jumped from their seats and scattered, I stayed rooted to the spot where I stood. Even when China pulled on my arm, I didn’t budge. Su-san was still standing at the base of the tower where Torvald was holding him and Russia hostage. No matter which way the tower fell, he was in the danger zone.
All of the sudden a crazy urge took hold of me. I shook my arm free of China’s grasp and with a gush of adrenaline vaulted the barrier that separated competitors from spectators. My landing was too hard to hit the ground running and in the half-second pause before I could rush forward, the tower fell.
On news programs, when witnesses to disasters are interviewed, they always say that it was nothing like in the movies. But as I stared, mouth agape, at the falling stone structure, I couldn’t disagree more; I felt just like a character in special effects laden summer blockbuster. But it was absolutely real. The tower careened away from the audience and fell against its twin on the opposite side of the arena with a thunderous crash.
And now both towers were falling.
The matched set came down too fast for me to do anything more than drop to the ground in a defensive curl. But it’s not as if anything I might have done could’ve changed the outcome. I couldn’t have saved Su-san from being crushed beneath the deluge of stone no matter how quick I was. The thought didn’t occur to me that I was in just as much danger as he was until I was already folded into a tight ball.
The sound was a long, deafening roar. The feel was an earthquake from below and a hail of shrapnel from above. I stayed in my tight curl until the rumbling ceased and when I opened my eyes I saw nothing. The collapse of the two towers had filled the entire stadium with an impenetrable, choking cloud of dust that clogged my lungs when I tried to breath and made me cough violently. From the sounds emerging around me-sound was all I had as there was absolutely no visual further than five centimeters in front of my eyes-everyone else was having the same reaction.
But even as my chest shook painfully and I gasped for any air I could get, all I could think about was Su-san. Was he alive? Had he somehow managed to survive like I had? I needed to see him but I couldn’t. I needed to run to him but I couldn’t even find my feet. I couldn’t scream his name.
As I tucked my nose and mouth into the neck hole of my shirt, lungs on fire, scratchy eyes trying desperately to make tears, I felt something wet touch the back of my neck and my arms. And then it was everywhere. It was raining. But of course, being deep under the earth I knew it couldn’t really be raining. Someone had turned on a sprinkler system I wasn’t even aware of until now and it was starting to wash away the fog of filth.
The air all around slowly became clearer and my skin and clothes became coated with a grimy mix of dust and water. Through the artificial rain I could finally make out the forms of two warriors amidst the piled up chunks of dripping rubble. Sweden’s body was straddling Russia’s, which was lying prostrate on the floor, and both his fists were pummeling Russia’s face without mercy. Berwald was alive, but he clearly was not in control of his body. And what about Russia? Was he…?
The fallen giant lifted his arm and relief swept through me; he wasn’t dead. But there wasn’t enough strength in him to push Torvald off or even to keep his arm aloft. It fell back limp at his side and I realized that it was a gesture of surrender.
“The winner of this match is Ancient Scandinavia!” Alessandro’s voice boomed over the hiss of the sprinklers. The fight had continued through the chaos only to end by one man’s fists, just as the rules intended.
But Torvald didn’t stop; he kept slamming his knuckles into Russia’s face. Each strike sounded like a hammer hitting a side of raw meat. Each strike felt like it was landing on the center of my own chest.
“Please, cease your attack!” Though he was obviously trying to be a calm voice of reason, there was a distinct edge of horror in Alessandro’s bellow. “Ancient Scandinavia, the match has ended! Step away from your opponent or you will be physically removed!”
I could tell from tone that the threat was not an idle one, but my memories of what China said, that only Torvald had supernatural strength, gave the words and undercurrent of futility to my ears. Alessandro and the other Founders trying to tear Torvald away from Russia would just be an opportunity for them to be needlessly hurt as well. I heard distant shoes start to move, but the footfalls right beneath me, my own, soon drowned out the sound. I was up and running towards Torvald and Russia before I realized that the reason was because I was the one who had to stop him.
The ruins of the two towers were coiled around the pair like twin snakes, as if the structures had willfully chosen to leave them untouched so that their fight could go uninterrupted. I scrambled over the wall of wet rocks, fast and clumsy with desperation, and as Torvald drew back Su-san’s left fist to deliver yet another punch, I grabbed his elbow with both hands and cried out.
“Stop this! Torvald, stop this fighting now!”
He froze in place, as if my voice had momentarily transformed him into a statue, and then he turned his head slowly towards me. His eyes were bottomless pits of ultramarine, the pupils reduced to pinpoints. His nostrils were flared and his chest heaving. In this state, splattered head to toe in blood, some of it his own but most of it Russia’s, he barely seemed human.
But as he stared at me, lucidity began to flow back into him; his eyes dilated and his breathing slowed. His shoulders relaxed.
“Astrid?” he asked in a breath.
I shook my head. “No. Tino.”
And suddenly he was Su-san again. His eyes flashed to their beautiful aquamarine and blinked in confusion at me. Then he looked down at Russia, collapsed beneath him, and horror leapt onto his face. His gaze darted between the bloodied, beaten face and his own red stained hands and I could tell that he’d witnessed what happened.
“I…” he uttered through a quivering jaw.
“No!” I yelled at him. “You didn’t do this!” But it didn’t seem to console him; the horror didn’t leave his face.
“Is he… dead?”
I had to stoop down and watch Russia’s chest slowly rise and fall before I could answer the question. “He’s still alive,” I said in as reassuring a tone as I could manage, though my insides squirmed at the thought of how bad his injuries were. “Torvald didn’t murder him. And you, Berwald, did nothing wrong.”
The rushing sound of water fell away as the sprinklers shut off and the quiet it left threw all other noises into sharp contrast. Alessandro’s feet stopped a few meters away. The remaining members of the audience continued to cough intermittently. Russia’s breathing was labored. Su-san and I were both silent.
He’d never looked so vulnerable to me as he did now, still on his knees, covered in blood and sweat and water and grit, staring hopelessly at destruction his body had wrought. One more time, he turned to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” was all he managed to utter before the lids of his eyes fell closed and he pitched forward.
I caught him, and when I did I could feel that his skin was already blazing hot. The war within was raging once more.
Although his weight was slowly dragging me to the ground and the heat from his body was scorching, I didn’t want to stop holding Su-san and felt a small twitch of resentment when Alessandro lifted him off of me and eased him onto the floor, on his back next to Russia. It was necessary, of course.
“That boy is on fire,” Alessandro gasped, and I wondered how much of the situation China had explained to him.
“What is the damage?” China’s voice asked, low, serious, and right on cue. I hadn’t heard his arrival as I had Alessandro’s, but here he was, pushing past his larger colleague with a strange, unspoken authority. When his eyes fell on Russia, his mouth set into a hard line.
“He’s been beaten unconscious,” I croaked. “But he’s alive. He… he’s going to be okay, right?” No matter how frightening I’d found him when he was awake and alert, it was impossible not to be scared for Russia-China had called him Ivan, I think-in his current condition. His nose was smashed to the side again, his eyes both swollen closed, his jaw was obviously broken, and his platinum hair was glued around his face with blood from seen and unseen wounds. I’d never seen a human being ravaged to the point where his face was no longer recognizable, and never would have thought it possible to live through such injuries.
“He needs to be taken to the infirmary right away,” said China, squatting at Russia’s side and pinching his wrist for a pulse. “He is lucky to be alive, but he might have a serious brain injury. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until he wakes up. And hopefully he will.”
The last sentence left me cold. Russia might not ever wake up? No! It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Not Russia. Not Su-san. Not America. Not even Germany’s paper cut should’ve happened. If blood had to be spilled, it should have been mine alone.
There’s still time for that, a little dark voice inside my head hissed.
It was true; because Torvald had won his fight, I had to face China, and, as the events had been growing progressively more gruesome, I knew I could expect something violent. Right now, however, Su-san’s welfare took precedence over all my other worries. I settled onto my knees by his sleeping head and pressed my palm against his cheek.
“He’s in the fevered state again,” I said anxiously, without taking my eyes from him. “He needs medicine to cool him down. An ice bath maybe.”
“We will do all we can for him,” said China and it sounded almost like a sigh. There was an unsettling absence of hope in his voice so subtle that someone less primed to it than I was would not likely perceive it.
At some point during the assessment, the other member of the Founders’ Guild and Student Council had floated down from the places they’d sought refuge during the calamity and now they flocked around the scene, their eyes heavy with concern in their dirty faces.
“Ze poor fellow’s face looks like a Picasso painting,” France said, a lighthearted comment but weighted with enough sympathy to make it acceptable.
I heard Italy let out a whimper, and from his previous behavior I surmised that he was probably clinging to Germany’s arm, but I didn’t look away from Su-san to confirm it. At that moment, the air all around me felt thick and my body felt heavy, like I was a lead plumb sunk to the bottom of a bucket of glue, unable and unmotivated to move. Su-san and Russia both needed immediate medical care, but I wanted time to suspend, just for a few minutes, so that I could collect my bearings right where I was.
But time doesn’t wait, and neither did China. “France, Germany, Italy, Japan,” he said firmly. “You will find a stretcher in hatch just below where we were all seated. Use it to transport Russia to the Founders’ infirmary. Alessandro, Leopold, Helena, and Amunet will be taking Sweden there, so you may follow them.”
Heads bobbed in complacency all around. Nobody questioned his instructions or why eight healthy bodies were required to transport just two injured, they just did what they were told. I swallowed what felt like a rock in my throat as Alessandro hoisted Sweden’s limp body up and over his shoulder. At last my eyes sought out a new target.
“I want to go with him,” I told China, staring intently at his face. “I need to be wherever Su-san is.”
China closed his long eyes and shook his head. “You and I must prepare for the final round of competition.”
“But…!” I blurted out, and he silenced me with a lifted hand.
“Sweden will be well cared for in your absence,” he said. “And you will be reunited with him when the match is over, no matter what the outcome is.”
I knew that these words were the most consolation China could give me under the circumstances. He was bound by the rules of the contest just as I was and he knew that any argument I made would be futile; this was him trying to keep me calm enough to compete. But I couldn’t imagine how I was going to concentrate on any sort of competition when Su-san was fighting to survive somewhere far from my sight.
And Su-san needed me to win.
It took all four unscathed members of the Student Council to carry Russia on his stretcher-one at each corner-but it only took Alessandro to carry Su-san like a rag doll over his shoulder. I had to wonder why China had charged the entire Founders’ Guild, excluding himself, with the task; his motives were as obscure as always.
As the two groups started transport the two invalids to the exit, one member of the Founders’ Guild broke off and came to speak to me and China. It was Evelyn, the embodiment of the Ancient Celtic Isles, who, despite being just as filthy as the rest of us, still managed to be stunningly beautiful. Her face bore no specific expression-perhaps the look of wounded pride I’d seen after her defeat had been neutralized by the latest victory for her side-and her arms were crossed over the front of her ruined green dress, not defiantly but cautiously.
“Yao, Finland,” she said. “Because of the condition of the stadium, your event will take place in the receiving room. The two of you may go there and wait for us. The rest of the Founders’ Guild will meet you there.”
I was about to ask her if the remaining members of the Student Council would also be join us, but she turned on heel and joined her colleagues so quickly that I didn’t have time. Maybe China could answer the question for me. If he didn’t, I would find out soon on my own.
I held in my breath while I watched Su-san being carried away, afraid that if I let out that air in my body the emotions I was keeping caged would spill out uncontrollably with it. When it was just me and China left I released my breath as a sigh of relief; I made it through the separation without an outburst and that made me feel a little bit stronger.
The brief window of time after the others had left but before China spoke and got us moving provided me an opportunity to take in the damage that had been done. Although the larger rubble was confined almost entirely to the arena floor, the dust had reached all the way to the far seats and combined with the sprinkler water to leave everything coated in muck. It was amazing that nobody had been hurt, but it was obviously going to take a lot of work to clean it all up.
“I, uh, I’m sorry about what happened to your stadium,” I told China sheepishly.
He shook his head with closed, tranquil eyes. “It is a risk we took into account when formulating these events,” he said. “There is no need for you to apologize.” He paused and opened his eyes, revealing a face that wasn’t his cool and detached usual. The remorse was sincere. “I do feel that I need to apologize to you, however. Although we considered the risks involved, none of us expected anyone to be hurt as seriously as America and Russia and Sweden were. For that, I am very regretful.”
I wetted my lips cautiously but my response came out on an impulse. “Don’t forget to tell that to them,” I said, and embarrassment immediately oozed into my chest. Who was I to be giving instructions to someone as old and wise as China?
My eyes sought his apologetically. He didn’t look upset or offended but surprised, blinking his dark eyes at me. Then his face softened into the gentle smile that was comforting and familiar to me.
“I will,” he said with a nod. “Now, let us walk together to the receiving room.”
“Alright,” I said. “You lead the way.”
I followed China out of the arena-while he navigated the rubble as silently and gracefully as a mountain lion, I stumbled and slipped and almost lost my balance several times-and I didn’t say another word until we were back in the elegant hallways of the Saint Hetalia underground.
“So, uh, I don’t suppose you have any ideas as to what this event might be, do you?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the framed artwork that adorned the walls.
“I’m afraid I know as little as you do, Finland,” he replied. “The years have taught us how to be very tight-lipped and none of my fellow Founders’ have let anything slip.”
I swallowed nervously and tried to keep a breezy tone. “You don’t think it’s anything violent though, right?”
China let out a small chuckle that helped ease my mind. “I don’t think so. A violent competition would not play to either of our strengths. Rest assured that this task is one that will put both of us on equal footing.” He paused and then added, “And try to have a little more faith in yourself. You are very competent Tino Väinämöinen. That being said…”
The end of his pep talk was left unsaid; we reached a door at the end of the labyrinth of halls and he gave his attention to opening it and letting me enter before him. I opened my mouth to ask him what he was about to say, but the déjà vu upon stepping into the next room caused other words to come out instead.
“Hey, this is the room where I first met the Founders’ Guild.” As I spoke, my gaze roamed over the platform and the elaborate, thrown-like chairs; it seemed like such a long time since I last saw them, but really it had only been a matter of hours.
“This is the receiving room,” China said.
“It’s a… a lot smaller than the stadium,” I said. Try as I might to make it just a casual observation, I couldn’t completely rid my tone of claustrophobia. It was only a small venue in comparison to our previous one, but it still made me feel self-conscious.
While I stood in front of the row of seats, anxiously shifting my weight between my two feet, too nervous to speak another word to China on my right, the door across from the one we’d used opened and the other Founders made their entrance. They were all dressed in fresh, stunning clothing from their beloved cultures-I couldn’t think up any logical explanation for how they did it, but by now I knew not to rely too heavily on logic at this school-and they moved as quietly as monks to their appointed chairs.
“Before we begin,” Alessandro said, still standing even after the others had all sat down. “I would like to inform both of you that Russia and Sweden, as well as America, are all in stable condition and are being treated for their injuries.”
By who? I wondered vaguely.
“Now we have come to the final event of this competition,” Alessandro continued. “This is the tie-breaking event and will determine definitively who gets custody of the Seven Stars and Seven Arrows of Saint Hetalia, and, by extension, the fate of us Founders. Are you both ready to begin?”
“I am ready,” China said serenely.
“I am too,” I said, less serenely. My heart was thumping madly again, thinking about Su-san and what the outcome of this event meant for his future. And then I heard China’s voice whisper something that I knew was meant only for me.
“I am not going to go easy on you,” he said.
It was the completion of the statement he’d abandoned at the door: “You are very competent Tino Väinämöinen. That being said, I am not going to go easy on you.”
My right hand flew to my chest and fingered the golden arrow pinned there. Whatever strength it was supposed to enhance in me, I prayed would help me out. If this was any sort of test of wisdom or intellect, I didn’t stand a chance against China.
Alessandro sank into his seat and spoke again. “The challenge facing each of you is quite simple…”
To be continued
{Chapter 15}