I haven't written fanfiction for years, and this will be my first Hetalia fic, so please bear with me.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. This story is not historically based.
Human names and country names used.
The ground was cold and soft. America's boots splashed in the muddy water that stayed after the storm as though it was too much work to seep into the dirt that was once a city. The remaining wind tugged on his thick jacket and hair, but he continued to walk through the devastation.
Ruins surrounded him and everything was broken and filthy. He knew that there was no living here, only death and hate, lingering not only in the air but sinking into the earth itself. He smelt something coppery, metallic, but he didn't focus on it. That wasn't his job. His job was to retrieve the enemy, not to think. 'Retrieve the enemy'…his boss's words for 'I want to see his broken face'.
He scanned the area. No Japan. America really didn't even know what he was looking for; the once pristine white naval uniform or a torn and bleeding body. The others from this site that he'd seen were hideous; melted skin, bone fused with glass, screaming, vomiting, blood everywhere…would Japan be like that? Would he be screaming in pain, covered in red stains and reeking of rotting flesh? Or would he be the stubbornly proud nation who was prepared to give his entire existence to his people and his emperor? No one could have gotten through unscathed, he thought as his boot plunged into the mud and squelched loudly as he practically yanked it back up.
Then he saw it, a tiny patch of white surrounding by a thick, maroon coating of mixed blood and dirt lay several yards away from him.
Alarm flooded his mind as he rushed towards it, nearly losing his boots in the process. As he got closer, he saw that the clothing was half under a heap of what was once a building, broken wood and shattered bricks littered the surrounding area. Another shock of horror jolted his body as he caught sight of a hand, limp and stained red, lying in great contrast to the ruins around it with its tiny, ivory fingers. He dropped to his knees beside the limb and grasped it, hoping desperately to feel a pulse, a twitch, anything to say that the Asian was alive.
It did not respond.
He squeezed harder, dread beginning to fill his heart. Oh my God…It killed him, it actually killed him…no…No! It's not supposed to be like this! He was supposed to be hurt, lose his will to fight, not his life…not his life…what have I done?
His eyes burned as scorching liquid filled them. He'd never meant for this. Never. How could he have done such a thing?! Why had he even considered that Japan would be okay? The man was so tiny, so thin and fragile… and he'd known that! He'd known it the whole time. His throat tightened and he felt his breath hitch.
The hand twitched.
Orbs of the sky itself widened and America almost screamed in surprise. The hand twitched again and an odd sound, something of a moan and cough erupted from the ruins. Immediately, the blond began to tear at the soil and wood, ripping large chunks away and hastily splashing offending water to the side.
Finally, after several minutes of frantic digging, he pulled away the last layer of debris revealing the filthy torso and head of his once-friend, now enemy. He struggled to force his hands underneath the body and pulled the frighteningly light man out. His heart dropped into his stomach as he took a look at Japan's ripped uniform, soaked with scarlet and torn away completely from his left leg, revealing sickeningly white bone surrounded by black burns and melted flesh. America lifted Japan onto his lap and studied his face, searching for any other sign of life. He realized that the man looked like nothing more than a child, despite having lived for several times his age, and red liquid spilled from the corner of his mouth and his perfect almond eyes were softly closed. Alfred pulled back the remains of the jacket and watched the thin chest intently until he saw it rise and fall unsteadily. He's alive…he thought. And with that, he stood and gently gathered the broken form in his arms and Japan's limp head lay against his shoulder as he walked towards the plane.
***
Alfred walked through the halls of the white building. Nurses bustled by with equipment he wouldn't want to see even on Halloween and patients groaned and cried in every room. He turned the corner, pivoting military-style, and moved quickly to the end of the hallway where several dark-haired people waited on benches to one side of it.
Several of the Asian nations had come to visit their fallen sibling. Al could see that some hard feelings still existed between several of them, especially the one they called Korea, who snapped at the mere mention of Japan. China had probably convinced them to come with him. It seemed as though no matter what, China came to check on his siblings; Al couldn't understand it. If he had done to England was Japan had to China, England would have never spoken or even come near him ever again. China was more forgiving…too forgiving…He smiled brightly at them, especially the girl they all called Taiwan who was practically in tears for her brother.
"You all look pretty good!"
"Shut up, you scum. We all know that you're on his side," Korea snarled, dropping his usual 'da ze~!' and bounciness. Alfred grinned anyway, someone had to be happy and he'd been expecting just as much from the young Korean.
"Ano-Alfred-san?" The girl hiccupped timidly; her eyes and speech reminded him of Japan, "Alfred-san, will Nihon-onii-sama be alright?" He grinned wider.
"Of course he'll be okay, I've got the best staff in the world working with him!"
"You do?" She smiled a little bit. He was a sucker for weepy smiles.
"Yep!"
"Great, he'll be up and trying to re-conquer the world in no time," Korea growled under his breath, "I don't know why aniki spends all his time with that good-for-nothing…he's making himself sick." America's grinned twitched… maybe it was because he had a brother himself that he was beginning to get defensive.
"That good-for-nothing," a new voice hissed from the doorway of the small room across from the group, "is your brother, aru." Alfred shuddered, China could be really scary sometimes.
China was still thin from the war, his eyes were tinged with red from the lack of sleep and his arms were bandaged from the wrist up. His hair had grown and was trailing like a river of ink down his back. The other Asians froze then nodded silently to their eldest sibling. Taiwan whispered to him,
"Gege? Is nii-sama getting better?"
China's face softened, he nodded. "A little bit, aru. He is breathing on his own now, aru, and seems to be responding to my voice." He turned to America then suddenly dipped into a deep bow, something that Al knew meant a lot of respect to Asians. "Thank you, aru. Words cannot describe my gratitude of your kindness towards my baby brother. I am forever in your debt." The river of ink slipped from his back to his shoulder and hung there like silk lichen.
"Aniki~ you play favorites! You like Nihon best!" Korea muttered bitterly from his spot next to the door. China snapped up,
"No I don't, aru."
"Yes you do." Echoed the rest of the Orientals in the hallway. China laughed loudly and sighed.
"Alright, maybe a little bit."
"Well, we love you anyway." America looked in the direction of the strange accent…it sounded kind of…British?
"Thank you Hong Kong. Okay, guys, it's time to head home. Be safe, aru!" America blinked; China was such a mom. The sea of dark hair whispered faint goodbyes to their brother in the small room then exited, waving to China as he remained. He turned to Al,
"I'll stay, aru. You can take a few days off, I know that you come here everyday." America laughed.
"Thanks, man. But I'm happy to do it, you've got issues of your own to deal with."
"He's my brother." America winced at the sudden sharpness of China's voice.
"Okay, alright; do whatever makes you happy!" He glanced down at the flowers in his hands, "Oh, and can you give him these? France said chrysanthemums would suit the situation." China smiled,
"Ah yes, it actually suits it more than you think…"
"Why's that?"
China looked up at him with a soft grin, "Japan's name is Kiku."
"Yeah, and?"
"Kiku means 'chrysanthemum'.
A/N:
Man I haven't written in a long time…it's hard…but please bear with me as I get back into the swing of things. For those who don't know, giving chrysanthemums in France is bad because they symbolize death. (ah the wisdom of my French book) so he's actually being mean XD