Code Geass Drabble
I rewatched Code Geass since the new season has started and I realised, It's a really racist show... really. So this is just my respose to it. A little angsty piece about a Japanese-Britannian soldier. He is given no name but I've been calling him Akihiko.
Title - Blood Sun
Author - Rai
Rating - PG-13
Pairing - Gen
Warnings - character death, a nameless original character, racism, hate crime, violence.
Summary - He is Japanese. They are Elevens.
Surprise is the first thing he feels as their hands wrap around his shoulders and their muscles tense into poses that have become familiar through countless times spent together. What is this, what's going on he wants to yell but a thick hand is covering his tea colored skin. Hadn't they just been talking and laughing only minutes ago?
Fear is the second thing and it clouds his eyes as he gazes up at them after the first earth shattering blow comes to his stomach sending waves of pain and nausea through him. It hurts but he has felt worse, they have felt worse through everything together. Another blow comes this time across his face and he realises that the hand is gone and he can yell for help.
But who will help him here?, they ask in their laughs, green stared uniforms twinkling in a bloody sun. But who indeed he thinks as the third blow catches his nose sending liquid life streaming down his chin and on to his own forest colored attire.
Britannia has always been his home, he was born and raised here and can barely speak the language of the people who share his skin, the people of the label that is now emphasized with iron fists and steel boots. Yet he has always been fighting with them, can they not understand?
He is Japanese and his targets are mere Elevens. Killing them is something that comes too easy and he has nothing holding him back for he can not think of those people as having any relation to him. He is not one of those pathetic people who have disobeyed the emperor, he is not one of those pathetic people fight a hopeless battle. He is not an Eleven, he is Japanese.
But a rose by any other name is just as fragile, just as delicate and breakable. When held over a flame it will wilt all the same, shriveling inward, blackening and falling in crisps of blood and black bile.
They are soldiers and soldiers are meant to protect, yet as another kick cracks into his body which is not allowed to curl away he wonders what they are protecting now because there is nothing left.
And the last thing he sees is a world dyed red by the Britannian sun.
Title - Blood Sun
Author - Rai
Rating - PG-13
Pairing - Gen
Warnings - character death, a nameless original character, racism, hate crime, violence.
Summary - He is Japanese. They are Elevens.
Surprise is the first thing he feels as their hands wrap around his shoulders and their muscles tense into poses that have become familiar through countless times spent together. What is this, what's going on he wants to yell but a thick hand is covering his tea colored skin. Hadn't they just been talking and laughing only minutes ago?
Fear is the second thing and it clouds his eyes as he gazes up at them after the first earth shattering blow comes to his stomach sending waves of pain and nausea through him. It hurts but he has felt worse, they have felt worse through everything together. Another blow comes this time across his face and he realises that the hand is gone and he can yell for help.
But who will help him here?, they ask in their laughs, green stared uniforms twinkling in a bloody sun. But who indeed he thinks as the third blow catches his nose sending liquid life streaming down his chin and on to his own forest colored attire.
Britannia has always been his home, he was born and raised here and can barely speak the language of the people who share his skin, the people of the label that is now emphasized with iron fists and steel boots. Yet he has always been fighting with them, can they not understand?
He is Japanese and his targets are mere Elevens. Killing them is something that comes too easy and he has nothing holding him back for he can not think of those people as having any relation to him. He is not one of those pathetic people who have disobeyed the emperor, he is not one of those pathetic people fight a hopeless battle. He is not an Eleven, he is Japanese.
But a rose by any other name is just as fragile, just as delicate and breakable. When held over a flame it will wilt all the same, shriveling inward, blackening and falling in crisps of blood and black bile.
They are soldiers and soldiers are meant to protect, yet as another kick cracks into his body which is not allowed to curl away he wonders what they are protecting now because there is nothing left.
And the last thing he sees is a world dyed red by the Britannian sun.