“So, been dying to ask- where the hell is Korea?”
The provinces were gathered in one of the trenches, all together for the first time since they had been driven across the river, due to their being busy with scouting, camp chores, and training the new recruits. These past few days had been allowing Chagang to recover from his constant pounding headache from the overwhelming rainbow of battle. Now it was returning.
“Great question!” South Pyongan exclaimed. When North Chungcheong looked at her to continue, she picked at her nails, ignoring him.
“Ah’m worried,” Hae whined, buzzing with anxious green as she clambered over Hwang to look over the edge of their resting place. “Do ya think South got him?”
“Korea wouldn’t let that happen again,” North Pyongan soothed her.
Chagang looked to Kangwon. It should be him reassuring their cousin. But right now he was barely conscious, lids even heavier than usual as he nodded off on Gangwon’s thin shoulder. He had been pushing himself too hard over the last few weeks, barely sleeping as he met runners for supplies, carried wounded, and patched them up. He never showed any colour when he did this, only assurance on his face. And grey when he lost someone.
“Korea shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place,” North Hamgyong grunted, and irritation spiked from SH, though she remained smiling.
“We’re all really sorry about that,” Sang said, her shade of guilt matching the province on her face.
Every time one of the southern provinces had learned that Korea’s eye patch wasn’t an aesthetic choice, but a necessity, they had been horrified to learn about what their half of Korea had done.
“You didn’t know,” SH reminded her kindly. “And if you apologize again, Korea will make you dig latrines.”
It was his new favourite threat, reserved mostly for South Pyongan. Though he had not directed it or any others towards her since she had fallen in the river.
Chagang looked at her cousin, who had her legs draped across North Pyongan’s lap. Her spirits seemed to be recovering from the traumatic event. When SH would seek her out to keep her busy, spots of colour would even appear in her suffocating pall of ash and tangerine. At least the latter had faded somewhat.
“Korea would have to actually be here to do that,” Gyeong pointed out. “Which he’s not.”
“Did Comrade Kwon-mu say where he went?” Hae asked, still peering out of the trench, still radiating headache-inducing olive.
“I already informed you that he simply said he was on a secret mission,” Hwang said.
“Uwaaaaa.” Hae flopped back down, pouting. “What if he’s not back in time for his birthday? Ah’m gettin’ him a present.”
“What is it?” Gyeonggi asked.
“Not tellin’. You might steal mah idea.” Hae remained quiet as they all stared expectantly at her. She retained her silence, which meant that she hadn’t decided what she would be getting him yet. Otherwise she would have immediately blurted it out.
“Speakin’ a’ secret missions-“ SJ started.
“-ain’t Korea bein’ a bit tight-lipped lately?” NJ finished.
“Or is he jus’-“ SJ made a choked noise as she and her sister exchanged looks, shame wafting from them both. With an effort, the Southern Jeolla finished her own sentence. “-like that now?”
“More tight-lipped than usual, I assume you mean,” Hwang said.
“He is,” Chagang confirmed.
Since the start of the war, Korea had been withholding information. Not of maneuvers they would undertake soon or what was happening back home, but names, specifics. Gyeonggi had asked which statesmen had defected to their side, and Korea ordered him to go help the cultural workers. Hae had wanted to know how the peasants back north were keeping their animals safe as they worked the fields, and had been brushed off. Nothing important. But noticeable. As was his dark blue irritation when he did it, not quite directed at them.
“Mm, Chagang’s right,” SH confirmed, brows furrowed. “I was asking if we had anyone on the inside in Busan, and he told me it was none of my business.”
“Not out of character for Korea,” Chungbuk pointed out.
“It is when it comes to military operations,” Hwang said. “He had been telling us everything about our preparations for the eventual war to ensure that we were all fully prepared for a decisive counterattack.”
“You think he’s been telling us everything.” North Hamgyong crossed his broad arms, one of which had a bandage wrapped around it from a piece of shrapnel. “He didn’t tell us him and Kim Il-sung were having private talks before the war started.”
“Korea and the Premier always have private talks,” SH reminded him. “They’re friends. And that’s different from operations orders. Korea has always been open about those.”
Her brother grunted, unconvinced. “Seodaemun.”
SH’s lips thinned, and Sang didn’t need to see the inky aggravation coming from her to quickly chime in, “North Hamgyong, that’s unfair. That was a special circumstance, and you might have done the same thing in his place.”
“I wouldn’t have,” he said, shooting a look at SH.
Hurt flashed in her eyes, as well as from her body before it was swallowed by irritation again.
For one moment the pale orange that came from North Hamgyong was bright enough to blind, and Chagang shut his eyes against it. Perhaps he should be off on his own, trying to soothe his throbbing temples. But he wanted to be with his cousins. So he stayed.
“You would have,” Sang told North Hamgyong. “And you know it. But that was very much a different situation. There’s no reason for Korea to be hiding anything from us right now.”
"Or at least from you all," Gyeong added. "Since Sang or me could technically be under a Command."
“Who saw him l-last?” Gangwon questioned, sitting in a cloud of anxiety. Chagang had no way of knowing if it was for Korea. He always looked like that, the opposite of Kangwon’s placidity.
All eyes went to South Pyongan.
“What?” she asked, and Chagang wondered why embarrassment started to wave from her.
“Alright, what did you say to him?” Chungbuk asked.
“I didn’t say anything,” South Pyongan insisted, embarrassment much brighter now. “We were literally just sitting in silence.”
North Pyongan raised a brow at her, and she shoved his face away. “We were!”
She wasn’t as good at lying as she thought she was, and even the others could infer she was not telling all. But Chagang knew it was unspoken that no one would reveal that to her.
“We did see him after,” North Pyongan said. “He came back to the trench. But I fell asleep before he left.”
Sang frowned. “Maybe-“
“He’s back.”
They all turned to Chagang, who pointed over the edge of the trench to where he could see a blazing aura of colour approaching.
The others were blind to this, but sure enough as soon as Hae poked her head out, her eyes widened and she scrambled up, kicking Hwang in the head as she vanished.
“Korea!”
They all rose to see their country coming down the ridge towards the trenches. Behind him came several of their men and women, a few of whom Chagang recognized as having been taken captive by the Americans in the last engagement.
Chagang had to squint at the riot of emotion coming from the Countryhuman. Joy, anger, relief, worry. But above it all a blazing corona of creamy-gold that surrounded him completely, blazing from his eye and lingering in his footsteps. It was one of Chagang’s most favoured colours, so he could easily identify it.
Hope.
“Koreayou’rebackwherewereyouahwassoworriedwethoughtSouthgotya-“
“South Hwanghae, too tight.” Korea extricated himself from her grasp. “And South wouldn’t ‘get me.’”
They all exchanged secret looks, thinking the obvious, and he caught them, growling, “He was being controlled by America before, but he will be with us when we win. South is your country, too. Don’t forget that.”
SH stepped forwards. “Where were you, Korea?”
He looked at them, and though he sounded matter-of-fact as he said, “Scouting. The Americans are moving reinforcements into the area,” hope dripped from these words like honey.
“And Comrade Korea retrieved a few of us before we could be transported to Busan,” a man chimed in. “For which we are forever grateful.”
Korea nodded. “Don’t get taken again. What are you all standing around for?” he said to the provinces. “You have jobs to do.”
As September 1st approached, Chagang watched his country grow more and more tense in the way that he did when he was either anticipating something or dreading it. His words were terse and his actions carried a kind of restrained ferocity behind them as he paced trenches and directed civilians building bridges for the river.
As they drew closer to the day, his head swung east more often, and the hope that had enveloped him guttered like a flame in the wind, replaced by something else, something darker.
Fear.
Chagang looked away from this. He knew not who the emotion was for, but he did know Korea wouldn’t want him to see it.
When they picked up their arms and headed for the river as the sun set on the end of August, the only colours around their country were the dark red of anger and that same unspoken feeling.
He threw himself back into battle with an unmatched savagery, the resolve he had carried since the start amplified by his swirling emotions. Chagang hadn’t seen the like since the war had started, but it was carried in his common sense from North Pyongan’s memories of the Occupation.
Their soldiers matched him, buoyed by their country’s unflagging determination, taking the Americans by surprise and recapturing Obong-ri Ridge and Yeongsan by the first day.
And then losing Yeongsan on the second.
The drought finally broke, and the rain that had been withheld from the Korean Peninsula for the last two months was delivered, coming down in a deluge that should have dampened the men’s spirits, but actually did the opposite. When the dawn came cloudy and wet, there were cheers as the soldiers realized there would be no air raids that day, and they returned to combat with great enthusiasm, not advancing, but holding the ridge firmly.
Despite their tenacity and the gains of their comrades further along the Perimeter, Korea was displeased. More than displeased. A constant blaze of fury and tension surrounded him, even during the brief moments outside of combat.
By September 9th, the 9th Division and the remnants of the 4th had been depleted, only a few hundred of their formerly thousands strong force left, and their country had started to realize what they all had- they were not going to make any more progress. Not here.
They huddled together in the darkness of the cleft on the hill, listening to the barrage of artillery only a ri away, a deafening cacophony. The provinces’ fear, anger, and anxiety blended together into a dizzying cocktail, spiked with Korea’s all-consuming rage as he hunched over a map in the dark. It made Chagang close his eyes tight. He had been trying to avoid him, having enough trouble concentrating as it was. But South Gyeongsang had sought him out on the far hill earlier in the evening, sneaking him back alongside some of the others.
“We’ve split their division,” Korea said, as he had multiple times since the operation had started. “If we can just get past Yeongsan, we’ll be able to encircle them with the 2nd when they breakthrough at Miryang.”
“Repeating it doesn’t make it true,” North Hamgyong grumbled. “The 2nd is done for.” He scowled as Kangwon rewrapped his arm. The medic province hadn’t done more than pour a bit of his canteen over it and the other burns that marred his green skin. They were out of medical supplies.
Kangwon’s own arm was pocked with needle-marks from where he had been using his blood to give transfusions to the injured. His eyes were unfocused as he slumped down. Gangwon was in a similar state, his anxiety finally dulled by blood loss.
“They’re still fighting,” Korea snapped back, eye flicking rapidly over the map.
“Korea,” SH said.
“Shut up.” He poured over the piece of paper as if he would find some new landform that could offer them an advantage in this land he knew like the back of his hand.
“Korea,” she said again, and rage flared off of him as he snapped, “What?!”
The white-skinned woman gave him a tired smile. “Happy birthday.”
He paused, and Chagang could see him calculating in his head that it was past midnight. He looked around as if suddenly realizing that they were all on the ridge, even Kangwon and Gangwon. He narrowed his eye.
“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re all here and not fighting.”
“Some people might say ‘thank you,’” SH prompted him.
“What am I supposed to thank you for?” he growled, irritated navy pointed at them like spears. “For abandoning your duties to give me well-wishes?” He stood abruptly, blue shifting to red.
“Our people are dying at the bottom of this hill, giving their lives so that we can win, and you want to hold a party?” He bared his teeth, making several of them bow their heads. South Pyongan radiated shame, strange for her.
“We need to be out there with them, freeing our country!” Korea snarled, looming over SH and Sang, who he had rightfully pegged as the organizers. “This is no time for a fucking celebration!”
Sang didn’t lower her round eyes. “Korea,” she said softly. “Please let us do this.”
He hesitated, glancing around at them again, especially the southern provinces. They gazed back at him, soft wisps of grey and green drifting from them. Chagang saw the stake of grief that pierced his anger, deflating it as he realized why they wanted to give him this.
Korea grit his teeth. “There will be plenty more.”
They were silent, then Kangwon slurred, “But this won’t be your birthday anymore. You’ll be Reunified and you’ll have a new one.” He smiled at Korea reassuringly, his eyes glazing over. They all quickly agreed, latching onto the excuse.
Korea bared his fangs into the darkness, then slowly sat back down, putting away his map. “Fine. Make it quick.”
Sang smiled, though she was shrouded in worry and sorrow as she pulled something from behind her back. It was three tan cardstock boxes, printed with bold black lettering that declared ‘US ARMY FIELD RATION K.’
“Where did you get these?” Korea asked suspiciously.
“We played the Americans for them in tuho,” Gyeong lisped at the same time as his sister said, “Ask Hae.”
Hae was the only one not covered in unpleasant colours, her morale undulled by hardship. She started bouncing in place, and Korea said, “Speak,” breaking the silent order he had enacted on her earlier.
With a deep inhale, she rushed, “Ahtookagroupa’comradesoutan’therewasaplaneohbutbeforethatwe-“
“Military report,” Korea snapped, and she straightened up.
“The Americans did another supply drop an’ we beat ‘em to it. Ah got us more guns an’ ammo, too.”
News that might have relieved Korea even days earlier did nothing now. Chagang knew that the difference between them reaching Busan wasn’t going to made by a few new firearms.
Hae blinked expectantly. “Did ah do good?”
Korea’s jaw feathered, and for a moment, Chagang thought he might snap at her. Instead he nodded. “Yes, South Hwanghae. You did well.”
She beamed, pumping a fist in the air. “Ura! Told y’all ah was goin’ to get him a good present.”
Korea watched as Sang opened the American ration boxes, pulling out an assortment of cans and packages. She handed him a can, and he took it, staring at the label.
“You should give these to our soldiers.”
“Ah did,” Hae quickly said. “Ah just took a couple for us.”
“Korea.” SH wrapped her fingers around the can he was holding, pushing it closer to him. “You need to eat, too. One meal isn’t going to make a difference.”
He pulled his hand away from hers, glaring at the can for a second longer before pulling the tab on it. He looked distastefully at what was in it, before pulling a piece out. It might have been meat. Korea’s expression as he put it in his mouth didn't clear its identity up. Disgust strong enough for Chagang to see shivered off of him.
“Is this… cheese? In a can?” Hwang asked, looking vaguely sick as he poked at what Sang handed him.
“Ah like it,” Hae mumbled, already with a hunk of the strangely orange food in her mouth. “What’s cheese?”
“Oo, I actually got to see some of this stuff during the trusteeship,” Gyeonggi said enthusiastically, pulling a piece off of the chunk in the can. “South said he thinks it’s plastic, but not to tell America.”
“Even if it is plastic, it’ll be fine.” South Pyongan grabbed a pack of biscuits. “Food always tastes better when it’s stolen from pillaging bastards.”
Sang sorted out the food, divvying up what was in the cans and handing out crackers and white tablets. By unspoken agreement, they gave most of the ‘meat’ to the half-conscious Kangwon and Gangwon, Korea eagerly sacrificing half of his strange pink… chunk.
“I… don’t think I’m eating an animal,” Kangwon said, as a bit of life returned to his eyes. He blinked. “Oh, is it September 9th? Happy birthday, Korea.”
“You’ve been giving too much blood,” their country said. “Stop.”
Kangwon touched his bruised forearm. “They need it.”
“And you need to be ready for…” Korea rubbed under his eye patch. “Just wait until you recover before you give any more. That’s an order, and it goes for you, too, Gangwon.”
The brothers nodded obediently, choking down their questionable luncheon meat.
“Oo sugar!” Hae grabbed for one of the cubes, and Korea slapped her hand down.
“You are not allowed sugar. Neither are you.” He intercepted Gyeonggi’s grasping hand.
Surreptitiously, Chagang reached out, slowly retreating with a white cube without Korea noticing. North Pyongan caught his eye and bit back a smile.
“North Hamgyong, put down the cigarettes.”
North Hamgyong ‘tch’ed, tossing the package back down.
Korea eyed him as he tucked the carton into a pocket, taking those from the other ration kits as well. “I’ll give these to Ri Kwon-mu.”
The green province 'tch'ed again.
As they sorted through the rations, dividing up the loot, Chagang was pleased to see that some of the dark and drab colours were paling from his cousins, if not from his country.
South Pyongan frowned at a paper package with a sort of yellow powder in it. “What is this stuff?” She dipped a finger in it, then wrinkled her face. “Sour.”
“I believe that is a powdered beverage packet,” Hwang said. “It’s supposed to flavour water.”
“Chungbuk.” She held out a hand and caught his canteen, dumping the powder in.
“Do you wan’ the other ones?” SJ asked, holding them out.
“Don’t waste your water,” Korea ordered.
“Looks like it’s all going in this one then.” South Pyongan snatched them up, adding them to her brew. She took a swig, then gagged. “Oh, that’s awful.” She took another drink. “Gross. That is sickening. Here, Chagang, you’ll like it.”
He reached out and took it, taking a sip. It was indeed toe-curlingly sweet, a mix of flavours too strong to be natural, far over-powering the flavourless biscuit he had just eaten.
“It’s good,” he declared.
“Let me try!”
They passed around the drink, Korea declining, and North Hamgyong spitting it out in revulsion. Eventually it made its way back to Chagang, who was given the honour of finishing it as those who had managed to scrounge up gifts for Korea presented them to him.
SH wrung her hands, olive-green fizzing off her as he examined a charcoal sketch of Seoul, their flag flying over the city skyline.
“It’s good,” he said after a moment, carefully tucking it away. “You’re improving.”
Her face lit up, sky blue bursting around her. “Thank you, Korea.”
“You really are good, SH,” Gyeong lisped. “You should have started painting way sooner.”
“We were busy fighting Japan,” she said demurely.
For as long as Chagang had known her, his cousin had been an artist. When South Hamgyong was drawing, the only colours that came from her were those that trailed off her brush. She wielded it with the same focused intensity that Korea wielded a gun. ‘You’re improving’ was far from the highest praise her drawing could have warranted.
“I’ll have to ask for a reprieve for my present to you,” Chungbuk said. “Just haven’t found the chance to do any shopping lately for some reason.”
“I don’t need presents.” Korea looked at the pouting Hae. “Your present was useful. It’s not included.”
“And my present wasn’t?” SH teased.
Alarm shot from him. “No, it-“ He glowered, seeing the dancing light in her eyes. “Shut up.”
The provinces laughed, chatting about the old times of the Occupation as they ate their ‘food.’ NJ and SJ were recounting the time that they and Korea had fought off a squadron of Kempetei during a scouting mission when Kangwon leaned over to Chagang.
“It doesn’t make you feel left out when we talk about this kind of stuff, does it?”
The taller province shook his head. “I know it all.”
He had told Kangwon that before, but he assumed he was asking again because of the southern provinces and their seamless integration back into the fold. Perhaps he thought Chagang might feel side-lined with the new batch of stories recounted amongst those who had actually been there.
His cousin nodded, smiling. ”Alright. If you ever do feel that way, just tell us.”
Chagang nodded. He would not. He remembered everything that they had experienced during the Occupation. Everything that North Pyongan had experienced at least. He simply remembered it differently.
He recalled the events as one would recall the plot of a vaguely remembered book or movie. He had no connection to the emotions his cousin had been feeling when he had been watching South Pyongan in the ring or on the beach. He couldn’t remember what had been felt or said exactly. But he could remember that there had been a ring and there had been a beach.
It was like reading theory for the first time- you took in the basics of it and now held that information. But you couldn’t quote exactly what you had read. You could remember that you had read it, you could remember what you had learned, but the specifics were lost. It had become part of your common sense, but not your common knowledge. Unlike theory, Chagang could not read these experiences again.
Perhaps if the other provinces were less familial, or he didn’t have his unique ability it would make him feel isolated from his cousins who had been through so much together. But they had never treated him as a newcomer. And when he could share all of the emotions they felt, it was hard to see himself as distant from them. The only reason he didn’t join in their recollecting was because his memories were not his to share.
Kangwon passed him a milk-flavoured tablet from the ration kits. “When we rescue Jeju, make sure to reach out to her. She’ll probably find it hard to integrate when she hasn’t even been around the others. You can help with that.”
“We won’t be seeing her for awhile,” Chagang said, and Kangwon winced.
“I’m sure-“
“Don’t fucking say that!” Korea barked, making the others look over in alarm. The red in his aura had exploded, the nauseous-yellow fear only feeding it.
Gangwon- seated between him and Kangwon- shot up, terror blasting from him as he cringed into his brother.
“Jeju will be freed soon,” Korea growled at Chagang. “All of them will be. But not if you talk like that and not if you keep failing on the battlefield.”
Chagang knew he had been right. But he also knew that Korea was right about the second half. He also shouldn’t have said what he had within his earshot.
“I’m sorry, Korea.” And since his country’s aura was drowning in deepest red, that was all he said.
Korea hardly seemed to hear him, a feverish glint in his eye. “Victory will not come of itself, it must be won.”
It was one of the Supreme Commander’s sayings, and it made him grab his firearm, stalking off into the darkness towards the sounds of combat.
“All of you, return to your positions,” he ordered over his shoulder. “We need to take Busan by the end of the month.”
Kangwon tried to rise, maybe to stop him, but he swayed in place. Chagang quickly caught him, holding him steady.
They were quiet until Korea had vanished, then Sang sighed. “At least we got him to eat a little.”
Chagang looked quietly at the ground, then at North Chungcheong as his violet cousin slung an arm around his shoulders.
“Don’t blame yourself for that, comrade,” he comforted. “He’s only two as of today, tantrums are to be expected.”
South Pyongan snorted, while Hae looked uncertain of whether or not to laugh.
“We probably only had a few more minutes together anyways,” Sang agreed, then hastily added, “Tonight, I mean.”
“We’ll have plenty more Foundation Days to celebrate,” SH said lightly.
She started to tidy up their makeshift picnic, while North Hamgyong took the slightly rejuvenated Kangwon and Gangwon back towards the field hospital.
Chagang readied his firearm, knowing that they were right. Korea’s tense energy had been building over the course of the half-hour. He would have exploded with or without his comment.
Still, if he could see his own aura, right now he thought it would be the colour of shame.
____
As the Premier’s Foundation Day address ended, North backed away from the radio, already returning to the battlefield.
The words had been much as expected- praise for their soldiers, for the guerrillas, and for their civilians working hard at the home front and in the south. Election results for the People’s Committees in the south. A summary of their progressive laws and reforms. A recitation of some of the secret letters that had been found in Seoul about Syngman Rhee’s plans to invade the north. A list of the cities and factories that had been destroyed by the Americans. And most importantly, the assurance that the Korean People’s Army would achieve victory.
It was sanitized, of course. The people back home already had to deal with air raids, fear for those on the frontline, and the worry that the Americans or Rhee might return and take away all that they had won. They didn’t need to hear that the 9th, 4th, and 2nd Divisions were down to a few hundred men or that they no longer had the supplies to treat the wounded before sending them to the rear. They needed to hear that they would win.
But North heard the other words within those assurances, spoken almost as if directly to him.
‘You must wipe out the American invaders from our country and win a brilliant victory in the honourable Fatherland Liberation War as soon as possible.’
They were at a decisive stage, and if they didn’t win soon, then they would need to switch tactics. A tactic North had not even wanted to consider back during those private talks, before the Premier had convinced him that it was better to have a plan that went unused than need a plan you didn’t have.
He gritted his teeth as he looked down at the pamphlet in his hands, at the atrocities it described. It had been Hwang who had the idea to distribute information about what had happened in Taejon to the people, so that they would know just what Rhee’s men were fighting for, what America’s ‘police action’ sought to protect.
Thousands of people lined up and pushed into mass graves. Their people. If they didn’t destroy the bastards that had done it, and soon, then it would be thousands more. That was unacceptable.
North crumpled the paper in his hands, tossing it to the ground as he unslung his rifle.
No more. They needed to win here, and they needed to win now.
'Hold on until then, South.'
Hospital again. Sigh.