Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam ) | Hetalia Fan Characters Wiki | FANDOM powered by Wikia
personal information, including your religious or political views, health, racial background, country of origin, sexual identity and/or personal relationships. Vietnam (ベトナム, Betonamu) is a supporting character in the series Hetalia: Axis 3 Relationships Vietnam appears at the end of the Halloween event, winning America's costume contest with a TOPIO robot suit. So cute (-///-)this is basically how the Vietnam war started XD. Hetalia APH Hetalia Vietnam & America Axis Powers, Doujinshi, Steven Universe, Anime Stuff .
You can't be upset about me and France! I have to play friendly. There is a war going on out there, you kn—" At those words, a nerve snapped, and Vietnam's paddle seemed to act on its own accord. I could be invaded because of the war! I can ask France to free you. I really want to help!
So we can trade more? All you powerful nations just think for themselves. I was a fool to think you'd be any different.
Vietnam swiftly raised her paddle, he flinched — but she only pushed the small of his back to lift him to his feet. He looked at her with a mix of shock and…admiration? Placing the paddle's edge under his chin, she smoothly ordered, "Get out. Hurry to that stupid meeting with Vichy. You're a fool if you think you can ask that lecher to free me.
Get out of my sight!
Vietnam - Hetalia Archives
Alfred laughed and called back, "I'll still be your hero! Vietnam rolled her eyes and blew her black bangs out of her face. In this year, America was doing the best he could to steer clear of the conflict waging across the globe, despite his support for the Allies.
Vietnam, meanwhile, was an agricultural colony, her fate uncertain in the growing war.
Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam )
She had a rather unfortunate youth, too At this time in history, America and Vietnam only interacted through trade, thanks to her plentiful resources. President Roosevelt wanted Vietnamese independence, but had to appease to Vichy. Who is Vichy, you may ask? It's portrayed here, admittedly confusingly, with the concept of multiple personality disorder; at this point, France's dominant personality is Vichy.
As mentioned, America recognized and set diplomatic relations with Vichy, though he really didn't like either France in the first place. Other notes Totally not historical, but: They're very symmetrical and awesome-looking. Somewhere I saw Vietnam referred to as the "jewel" of the French Empire, and gemme means 'gem,' and also sounds very sexy.
Other uses of French in this chapter: Please note that I rely on Google for my translations; don't hesitate to correct me. It was tricky to characterize Vietnam, as Hetalia portrays her as quite the tsundere when according to my Google search the Vietnamese are actually quite hospitable, which I showed when she invited Alfred to her house.
Perhaps the way she attacked America was whiplash and a little historically-off, as Vietnamese opinion of Americans was very positive at that time.
Hard to Get Chapter 1: Encounter, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic | FanFiction
Take it as some war-time angst, I guess. Well, I think I covered all the historical things. Dang this is long. And I want this after every chapter? Can never take the easy way, I guess. If your eyes aren't glazing over, please read author's note. Oh gosh, a serial fic…how daunting. I actually wanted to do a one-shot of the Star Pair based off of a fanart, but then I found an article on Wikipedia about Vietnam during World War Two, and it was the best written Wiki page I've ever seen.
And so I'm pushing my initial idea to the very last chapter of this fic, and describing America and Vietnam's relationship during World War Two before it. No, it is not nearly as dramatic or heartrending or personal or involved as the Vietnam War, but I find it interesting and sentimental. Yes, there will be a lot more history, fluff, and blood. Could she even carry her own weight in provision, much less a gun? The Southern Vietnamese were confident in her, but the Americans could barely share the same sentiments.
Her lessons in guerilla warfare, the techniques that the Vietnamese have been using for ages, have been heeded half-heartedly at best. Even her advice in hand-to-hand combat and weapon-usage have been ignored. But after watching the woman briefly in the actual battlefield is like a slap in the face to many of the soldiers.
They know that personified-nations are the reflection of the nation's past, present, and future. What does it mean for their war against Vietnam when the country's personification is that tough?
Sure, their own super-powered nation is ridiculously strong and most are sure that in terms of power, America would come out on top every time, but Vietnam's strength means that the Northern Vietnamese won't be so defeated easily. That means they might have to stay longer in this god-forsaken country to finish the war, and they're not entirely sure whether they could last that long.
So, they avoided her gaze. Avoided everything about her. It would mean accepting her strength. Accepting the bitter realization that they wouldn't be coming home in maybe the next few years. Accepting that they were not even close to winning the war as they thought they were.
Accepting that they were actually part of a horrifying war just as real as the World Wars that devastated the planet and the inhabitants of that planet. Understanding their deniability their fears, their desires, their trepidationVietnam lets them, for the moment, turn away from the inevitable; she watches as the men she had become familiar with for the past several months acted as if she doesn't exist.
They were all so young, she mused once again, and war isn't something that she wished for any generation of the human race. She has been sick of bloodshed and death—that's for sure. Nonetheless, she will have to open their eyes tomorrow morning, forcing them into the swampy lands of her country if only to get them to acclimate to the terrain.
The majority of them don't know where to step or avoid when traveling across the rainforest. She doubts that even most of them ever been inside a rainforest, much less trudge through one with heavy baggage and items for war. She would also have to teach them how to carry only the minimum essentials, since the jungle is so thick and it would only make the journey more difficult to have extra luggage.
The blond man is surprisingly without his glasses, emphasizing how truly young the Super-power is. For a long moment, as she shifted the rifle tucked into her arm, never truly relaxed as her intense orbs would sometimes follow the shadows in the corner of her vision, Vietnam wasn't sure how to proceed to answer. They both had just recently came back from briefing which was called for after the assault had ended—or at least slowed down enough for the majority to catch a single breath.
They were told the results of the 'Tet Offensive' as they had called it and the female veteran had no reason to refute the statistics calculated.
Of course there were more Vietnamese 'enemies' casualties rather than American casualties—the hollowing ache throbbing deep into her bones confirms the large number of her people that had been killed on her land, but the pain was nothing new and she had learned to ignore it long ago.
Honestly though; what does America want her to say? His whole body is set on fire, his nerves tingling in agitation as the voices of his people consumes his senses. Horrified by the images of massacre and death. They want an end to this whole war. They want an out. America grinds his teeth as he tries to push the assaulting spirits of the American people to the back of his mind, digging his fingernails into his arm. The will of his citizens are strong they always were—the Bill of Rights kept their voices loud and heardbut the young nation refuse to submit to the crippling pressure their opinions.
With the stubbornness that his people has been famous for, America didn't let the pulsing voices in his head influence him. Despite what is being said back at home, the blond does not want to leave Vietnam yet—he has a duty as a hero to fight against the evil communists and that is what he's doing.
Here, he was supposed to be the hero of the American and Vietnamese people. Here, he could save the Vietnamese from the dark path of communism. He's supposed to be a hero. He's trying to save Vietnam… A rise of bile crawled up his throat as he remember the flash of liquid red sputtering from the Northern Vietnamese's mouth, a stream of silk-like dark hair coming from the former French colony who have her knife buried inside the man's thin throat.
Her golden-brown eyes are unblinking as she watch one of her people die from her own hand, gently laying the lifeless body onto the ground as if putting the man to sleep. A pool of blood grew around her feet, but her hand never faltered when she manually closes the Vietnamese's eyes; unlike America, who visibly tremble at the lack of hesitance or mercy she has against her own people.
Or maybe, that swift, well-planned counter-attack was merciful since the male didn't have to suffer before his death. Nonetheless, it was surprising how easy the deed had looked in her unexpectedly professional hands. Hands that he had jokingly touched and played without heeding the uncharacteristic calluses that seemed normal on her skin. They were hands of a veteran. America swallows the sourness he could taste on the back of his tongue. I-I have to be!
His heart almost shuttered to a stop as he was faced with Vietnam's intense, bright-golden eyes, the searing orbs staring right onto his figure with a strength that frightens his shaken soul. The blond automatically tensed as if expecting to be assaulted by the old veteran, his true-blue eyes closed and his head turned away, not even defending himself from the inevitable attack, but it never came.
It took a long while for America to force himself to look directly into the Vietnamese's eyes and the young nation is surprised to find a lack of anger in the other's expression.
In fact, Vietnam didn't even look insulted or affronted by his previous statement of heroes and villains. He can't help but be disturbed by her nonchalance. Shouldn't she be furious? Indignant for her own people? He sort of wanted her to be angry at him. Hearing the amused sound coming from the generally stoic individual, America easily thought that the Vietnamese was now making fun of him and daringly glares at the armed Asian.
The corners of her lips were quirked upwards into something that was supposed to have some semblance of a smile but instead comes out as a grimace.
Adjusting her position, Vietnam faces her supposed comrade-in-arms with an expression that seemed rather cynical. Of course not—I mean, w-why would I want to be—" America was lost on how to answer without sounding like a fool and his frustrations only increased when Vietnam blatantly laughs at his fumble, but the supposedly joyous sound was hollow and brokenly bitter.
Leaning back, the dark-haired woman lay her head against her assault rifle in a casual manner as if the magazine isn't still full of bullets, looking at the younger nation on the group with what looks to be a self-depreciating smile—if you could call that faint downward curve of the lips a smile.
For most of his life, he have always been belittled by the older countries because of his age and they rarely gave him a chance to prove himself to become a great independent country without needing to particularly lean on England or France. After the last two World Wars, his confidence —not to mention his validity— as a strong nation exponentially grew.
His involvement was always a turning point in those wars, and staying out of the way while the 'adults' fight is not going to help anyone in the long run.
He honestly tried to stay neutral, they're the ones who kept blowing up his ships. When Vietnam had first called him young a kid, a child, etc.
He just thought that woman was jealous of his youthfulness so he had taken to calling her 'granny' in retaliation. He doesn't remember the details entirely, but he heard that Vietnam was one of the oldest female personification in the world so it seemed befitting at the time.
He never understood what it means for her to be older —more experienced— than him. Just the way she calls him a 'kid' makes him feel extremely inadequate in a way that England and all the other European countries have never been able to achieve.
But you're barely halfway a millennium. Why are you even fighting this war? To save your people—" "Then you don't get it. Because I'm young or something?! What about our needs? You promised us better lives but all you've given me is this! That's all I ever hear from you! Yet not one promise has been kept!
When she returned she said little to him. Her eyes, once sad, stared at him with frustration from then on out though. Frustration became anger and the anger in her eyes began looking more and more like outright hatred.
America ignored it, figuring it was just one of those woman things. He had more important things to worry about than Vietnam's feelings. Then, one day, he had caught himself among the enemy. The firefight lasted only five minutes, three on one but he was America and he could not be beat.
There was just one left, and they ran into each other completely by accident. They scuffled and America knocked off the hat that Vietnam's people liked to where — and found Vietnam herself underneath. I'm trying to help you! She ran off again but this time she didn't come back. Her words continued to ring in his ears throughout the war though as he fought and killed. As more of her people died and his own grew disillusioned.
At long last he left. It wasn't till later that he realized that his last thoughts hadn't been on Vietnam, but along the lines of: You win this time Russia… The Bald Eagle flew straight at him again. Claws outstretched and screaming at him. Golden eyes pierced his blue ones. America never broke eye contact, sending his own thoughts into the bird of prey… When he saw her again at a UN meeting Vietnam looked tired.
She spotted him but immediately averted her eyes, he did the same. Years passed and this routine continued. Until the day they somehow found themselves sitting next to each other. The awkward looks were exchanged and then they both stared straight ahead for most of the meeting, not speaking or looking at each other. Then France began speaking about his education system and how great it was. Vietnam heard him and before she could stop herself began snickering. America looked at her in surprise before smiling himself.
After that all of France's speech received some whispered commentary courtesy of America while Vietnam tried to stifle her laughter.
When the meeting was over he stopped her on her way out. Vietnam gave him a long hard look before nodding. Several years later the two watched as the Vietnamese embassy opened up in the US. America beamed, time had healed their wounds.