Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and I don't wish to offend anyone with this fic. This is a present to my wonderful friend Killing Kathy who'd been waiting for this since December. -_-

Thanks also to my awesome beta reader teaghost, who is a brilliant author and also incredibly patient with me. :3 You have my sincere thanks.

Please enjoy.

Step one.

The first step was taken amongst the thick bamboo forest, where they first met. China was tall, powerful, at the peak of his glory. Japan was young, insignificant, still stumbling his way around the world.

It was China who took his hand and lead him into civilisation. They would sit in the gardens, painting the sweet, blooming lotus and chrysanthemums, practising their calligraphy in great, strong strokes, fishing in the lakes, or playing amongst the trees. It was China who would lead him through the streets of Nanjing, pointing out the lanterns and riddles inscribed upon them. Every day would be filled with lovely, steaming dishes. Mantou, meat buns, spring rolls... Through these little things, China taught him his culture and eventually, taught him his language too.

With China, Japan prospered, and the boy became a man.

~o~

Step two.

It wasn't long before they gradually drifted apart.

It was a natural course of events, of course, and the news did not arrive totally unexpected to China's ears. The swallow chicks would fly away from their nests in spring, and nations, of course, did not stay together forever.

At the same time, China was already preoccupied with the other nations. Young, bashful Korea, who liked to laugh and fool around and run rings around the elder nation. Vietnam, quiet, beautiful, with large, soulful eyes... China's attention was often divided, and Japan knew he could no longer stay.

That said, it was not a tragic parting of any means. China grinned as cheerfully as he always did, and if anything, took Japan's departure as a positive sign.

"It means you are growing up," he declared proudly. "You are a fully-fledged nation, capable of handling your own business and finance now." He patted Japan's back. "You will be a great and powerful nation one day, I know it."

And with this, Japan left, carrying China's hopes upon his shoulders.

~o~o~

Step three.

Since when did they become so distant?

It was a change neither noticed for a long time. For centuries, their relationship became nothing except a matter of finance and trade. Slowly, they began to spend less and less time together as Kiku and Yao. Their topics of conversation began to drift away from what happened in the neighbourhood last week, or on the blooming of the sakuras, or each other's well-being, but began to focus on money: "What is the quality of the silk you are shipping over to my place soon? How many horses are you exporting this year? What can you offer that can be of interest to my country?"

It was only when Japan began to experience trouble - conflict amongst people - that he realized that he was completely and utterly alone.

Because when he tried to talk to China, he couldn't open his mouth.

China still smiled, still brought presents, as was appropriate, every time he visited Japan. But they had lost something. The family in them was gone. They were two nations, nothing more.

How could Japan talk to China anymore? How could he share his burden to a foreign nation?

No.

"Is there something wrong?" China frowned, setting down his tea.

Japan merely shook his head mutely.

I cannot tell you anything.

~o~o~o~

Step four.

The black ships were coming.

The words rose like a whisper, a faint stirring among the people, and then they spread. Like flames through a forest, like a plague among the healthy, the words were repeated through alleys and cities. "Black ships…" "White men…" "Conquerors…"

And they came. Pale, strange men with hair the colour of gold and eyes like gems. They wore strange clothes, and spoke strange languages, but they carried with them weapons; weapons which blasted flames and killed with a single, ear-splitting explosion. They also brought with them foreign goods, wonders Japan has never before witnessed.

But they were conquerors. They reached out, hungry, seeking, grasping, and Japan could only press himself against the wall in fright, shying, hiding, running.

"Japan…" China's voice echoed. It sounded eerie in the darkness, filtering faintly through the doors, and Japan could only close his eyes and press closer against the door. Go away. Please go away.

"Japan, please come out. It's only me." He could almost imagine China's awkward smile. "It's just China."

I don't want this.

"Please, Japan. Let me in."

"Go away."

"Japan, this isn't like you. I don't want your land, or your people. I just want to trade."

That's what he said. That's what they all said. Look what they've done.

"… Can't you even trust me? I'm China. Your elder brother."

I can't trust anybody… There's no one I can trust any more. Only me… Only me.

"Japan? Are you still there?"

"China-san. Leave me alone."

"Japan – "

"I don't want to trade with you anymore. You are not Japanese. You have no permission to trade with me."

The silence was terrifying, and when China finally spoke, there was something oddly strained in his voice.

"Japan… You're not going to trade with me anymore…?"

"Not you, not anyone!" Japan found himself crying out helplessly. "No more of this… I don't want any of this. Leave me alone… Leave me alone! All of you! Leave me alone!"

I just want to be Japan… I don't want to be anyone's property… I just want to be me.

Is that so much to ask?

~o~o~o~o~

Step five.

Conquest.

Japan could see it now. This was the way forward.

The Western nations showed him the way. When America first pried open his doors, with the unnatural strength even nations could not rival, he showed Japan a completely different world.

A world where power was all – a blood thirsty power constantly craving for more and more, and when Japan tasted it, there was nothing stopping him from wanting more.

He had been unwilling at first, but a Chinese saying summed it up, did it not? '顺我者昌，逆我者亡'. 'Follow me and prosper, fight me and die.'

When his blade flashed in and out through China's body, Japan felt no regrets. When the blood stained his hands and pooled on the floor, he felt nothing. This was the way forward. If China did not accept that, there was nothing he could do.

Japan reached glory. But glory was not what he expected. He had reached glory by building a mountain of skulls. He had reached glory by climbing over China's body.

This was… what he wanted… Wasn't it?

~o~o~o~o~o~

Step six.

There were many things China taught Japan in his time.

But there was one thing he neglected, one lesson which had been taught repetitively by those tossed and turned within the waves of history. A lesson which very few have taken to heart, for surely, if they had, no one would make that mistake again.

And it was this – those who reached power, would inevitably tumble from it again.

Japan tumbled. His strength crumbled. The peak, after all, was a dangerous place to be, for there were always others, constantly reaching, constantly climbing.

It was China.

He stood before his brother, his once brother, the only obstacle in his path. China knelt, breath ragged, hair wild. Bested once more.

Yet even as Japan approached him, he sensed with unease that something was different. China was not dying. He had been struck, stabbed, hit, kicked… And yet he still struggled to his feet, with broken bones and blood staining his clothes. He looked up at Japan, his face almost unrecognisable, and grinned at him in a fashion which was beyond unnerving.

"What are you doing?" Japan found himself demanding, an icy chill settling upon his heart. "Why… Why are you…?"

And China laughed, dark, bitter and twisted, and when he smiled, it was a smile that was no longer the warm, open grin which Japan had once associated with his childhood.

"Be careful of what's behind you, Japan," he whispered, his voice barely a breath of the wind. "Be careful, Japan, my dear, dear brother."

And Japan turned, and America fired.

Two bullets, one after the other.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Step seven.

The room was dark, quiet save for the empty beeping of a life support machine, racing to keep the heart of a nation beating in a time of utter despair and terror.

Japan's eyes were closed. He lay there in the silence, breathing slow, calm and even, as though asleep. His mind, however, was far from relaxation. It whirred, alert and responsive, painfully aware of the visitor standing beside his bed.

China.

The elder nation had been there for a while, sitting quietly next to the hospital bed. He had not said anything since entering, but Japan knew it was him all the same. It made his heart burn with bitterness, a bitterness added to the burning of his wounds. There was mockery in this visit, he felt sure of it. China was the victor. The war was over, the Allies, China, had won.

The silence continued, for who knows how long? China made no movement, neither did Japan.

But eventually, it was China who spoke.

"It didn't have to be like this, Japan."

Japan kept his eyes shut. 'Sleeping'.

China did not seem deterred. He continued, voice quiet, almost as though he were talking to himself. "I did not want to fight you… We shouldn't have been fighting at all. We were, we are, brothers, after all."

He sighed. A soft sound in the dark, a quiet breath in the wind.

"Brothers should not have to fight… No one should have to fight. Do you know how tired I am of seeing war and conflict?"

Japan remained silent, but now he listened. He listened to the quiet voice he had known throughout his life, the voice of his brother.

He listened for a time which had long passed, a childhood never to return.

China spoke.

"Sometimes, I wish we could be brothers again… I wish we could just be Yao and Kiku. I want to… be family again."

And then, China started to sing.

It was a slow, quiet song. Soft, mournful, sad, and China's voice carried it through in the darkness. His native language flowed smoothly in the air, and Japan could hear within this song all the heavy emotions weighing upon both their hearts.

"煮豆燃豆萁，豆在釜中泣。。。本是同根生，相煎何太急？"

For the first time in his life, Japan cried.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

We are still brothers, in the end.

Despite our differences, despite our history, nothing can change that fact. Our roots are one and the same. There will always be something connecting us.

Wounds will leave scars, and time cannot wash away facts. But time can bring about forgiveness.

And perhaps forgiveness will bring about a better place?

A/N: The poem China recites is the Seven Steps Verse, (七步诗）which is what this fic is sort of named after. It was written by the poet Cao Zhi,（曹植） who was challenged by his brother, the Emperor Cao Pi,（曹丕） who viewed his brother then as a threat, to write a poem in seven steps. If he failed the challenge, he would be executed. And so, Cao Zhi created this highly allegorical poem, which, using some translations from Wikipedia, means something like this:

Charring the stalks to boil the beans, the beans cry out in pain. 'We were both born of the selfsame root, why torment me in vain?'

The poem touched Cao Pi so much he allowed his brother to live, and this story is often used to reflect Cao Zhi's intelligence and ability. That said, both Cao Pi and Cao Zhi were renown poets, and together with their father, Cao Cao（曹操）the three are often referred to as the 'Three Cao'.（三曹）

Also, just to add, the poem sounds a lot nicer in Chinese.

Thank you for reading.