This was originally written for the China/Japan community's springfest over on LJ. It then proceeded to undergo heavy revisioning... and it'll probably gain a second part eventually as well. I just wanted to get this up first so I could in good conscience work on other fics in this 'verse.
"You don't know?" England asked, those prominent eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. Around them the other nations trickled out of the conference room, their bright chatter masking England and Japan's own conversation.
Japan's gaze keeps snagging, whenever it crosses the space where China should be. The meeting's start time comes and passes. The gossip continues unabated. The only hint that something should have changed at all comes in the increasing tension in Germany's clenched jaw.
And China, who is oft last minute but never late, still has not arrived.
'What don't I know?' Japan supposed England meant for him to ask. He would not deign to respond though. He would not stoop to begging for answers he could seek himself, when it already bit at him that England knew what he did not. (What he, apparently, should.) In the ensuing silence he kept his unwavering gaze on England; it would not be on him to progress the conversation.
England harrumphed and resumed packing his briefcase, once he realised he'd been robbed of a reaction. "Well, I'm sure China would have mentioned it if he wished for you to know. It certainly isn't my secret to tell. In any case, I haven't a clue where he might have gone off to anyway."
It was Japan's shame that his eye twitched minutely before he managed to get his expression under control, and he was reminded again how much the other nation loved to hoard secrets. He would be getting nothing more - or nothing useful - out of England.
He bowed.
Only five minutes later when Germany was reaching his breaking point did the door slam open. All heads turned- but it was Hong Kong, wearing a suit and tie and the blandest expression. "Yo," he said, as he took China's seat. Germany faltered, wind stolen from his words, and in that awkwardness the conference began.
"Thank you for your assistance," he said, and began packing for home.
(And when Japan went looking in all the old haunts he knew of and still found no China, it was all he could do to just grit his teeth and not scream.)
...
Greece once described the path to the Sanctuary as akin to walking through a waking dream. It had been the sole time they had talked about the place, and only because Greece had brought it up first. A place to retreat, a place to be oneself or even someone else - Greece had wondered at the place's existence, even as he enjoyed its services.
For Japan, the Sanctuary only set his teeth on edge.
Yet he found himself standing before those bone white walls and gripping his sheathed sword tight, trying to ignore the thrum of wildness underlying its idyllic image that pulled at a part of him he'd long buried. It was old magic, reigned but never tamed, and curse his own curiosity for driving him far enough to come to a reservoir of it.
(But this was the only place left that China could have disappeared to, for whatever secret it was that only England seemed to know. And Japan had long stopped lying to himself about the fact that he would do a lot to have everything of China if he could.)
It was with hesitant steps that he pushed past the heavy double doors, into the riot of colour that lay beyond. Brushing aside the bright silk cloths that draped from the ceiling, Japan found himself face to face with a beaming old man. He forced his grip on his sword to loosen. The old man may or may not be what he seemed, but it was no reason to challenge him preemptively.
When the old man reached out to touch him, though, he flinched back and brought his sword up, but not quickly enough to avoid one long fingernail grazing his cheek. "Ahhh, yes, yes," the old man cooed. "For you, yes. Sit, young man. I shall be back in a moment," and so as suddenly as the old man had appeared, he disappeared again into swathes of fabric.
Like a puppet with its strings cut, Japan dropped onto the couch behind him.
The Sanctuary didn't seem to have changed much since he'd last seen it; to be honest, he didn't remember much of the first and only other time he had come here either. Then, it had been China and Korea who'd brought him here, the knowledge of the Sanctuary's location something of a celebration gift for having finally shot out of that stage of awkward limbs and even more awkward in-between-ness. Korea had called him a little man then, teasing, but China had said he'd settled into fine form indeed, and the compliment had been enough to put red in his cheeks that he'd blamed on the rice wine instead.
Until China had ruined the ebullient mood by calling him such a lovely younger brother, anyway. And that had been nothing compared to the smallnesshe'd felt once they stood in front of the Sanctuary, between the monstrous presence that China and Korea had both suddenly seemed to exude.
He'd barely begun to dwell on those strange auras, back then, before he found himself being caught up in a sudden whirlwind of activity. A smiling figure had handed a mask to him, and then he'd been propelled down pristine corridors, separated from China and Korea, his feet leading his body with no input from his mind. The mask had still been in his hand when his feet stopped, and inside the room of the doorway which he stood, a masked lady that lounged there had taken one look at him and laughed.
This is a place for those seeking companionship in any form,she'd been kind enough to explain, and after that, the night had been one long, blurred haze. No doubt part of it was the alcohol, but-
He clenched his hands. Unclenched them. Would he be able to find China in here, even if the nation were within these endless white walls? And if so, what scene would he stumble upon?
His thoughts were disrupted by the old man's return, his focus drawn to the wooden box the man carried. When the man noticed him looking, the box's lid was removed to reveal an elegantly sculpted mask. "Ah..." Japan started, his hand reaching for the mask despite himself. It was a beautiful, splendid thing-
"Yes, yes, for you, the hou-ou."
-that he pulled himself away from when he recalled his purpose. "Forgive me for the trouble, but in fact, I merely wished to ask whether-"
The man's smile didn't flicker, but his shape did, and before Japan could react he found himself being shoved through the back entryway and barred from going back at all.
Somewhere in the midst of all that, the mask had ended up into his hands. And though it was merely a mask, made of leather and paint and no magic at all, Japan still found himself slow to place it over his face.
But he did, and hand gripped on his sword sheath once more, he let his feet carry him where they willed.
...
Of all things, Japan did not expect a large bathhouse to be his destination.
A very large bathhouse. A very large bathhouse with, well.
His mind tried to take in the scene before him, but it kept lurching when his thoughts got past the rather Roman architecture to hit the dragon taking up the bulk of the room instead.
And it was very difficult not going down on his knees in the face of that power. Dragons aren't real! the more rational part of him wanted to protest. But what was real in the face of a sanctuary at the edge of the world, of his own existence, of the dragon?
None of the great creature's attendants paid any notice to him, busy as they were with washing it down, stripping off flakes of what appeared to be old skin. It came off in patches, iridescent in the light shining through the open air windows high above. Occasionally, a few of the attendants would take large brooms and sweep the dead scales to the side, where the other, already sloughed-off pieces had been piled.
One attendant, Japan noted with fascinated horror, slapped a palm against those burnished red-gold coils and yelled, "Can't you turn a bit, ah? I can't reach!" the Mandarin used outdated enough it took Japan a moment to comprehend.
The "Aiie-! That hurts! Be careful, ah!" the dragon responded with evoked an entirely different sort of shock though, for though the voice was deeper, and laced with an odd resonance, it was a voice Japan had known near as long as he could remember. It was old lullabies and older tales, lessons with ink and stone and blood and-
"Chuugoku," Japan choked out. Remembered dragon. Switched to Mandarin. His sword clattered to the ground, forgotten. "China!"
China's entire body twisted, drenching his attendants as the movement stirred the waters. "I hear Japan, how- what-"
That's right. He was still wearing the mask, wasn't he? He removed it and set it aside, ensuring it was well away from the water before turning back. Facing the dragon- Chinaonce more, he blurted out before he could stop himself, "You are a dragon." He wasn't entirely certain how the words managed to come out so even.
That great mass twisted further; Japan could no longer begin to muster any sort of surprise when several of the attendants transformed into cranes, their scoldings at China's movement taking on screeched qualities. "You're not supposed to be here, ah!"
"You are a dragon," he carefully enunciated, as though doing so would make the entire situation more real, "and you are moulting."
"This isn't what it looks like!"
The statement was so absurd that laughter began to bubble up in Japan's chest before he could stop it. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it sprung forth nonetheless, first a hiccup of a giggle, and then a fountain of mirth he couldn't contain at all.
"You're," he gasped out, between laughs. "You're- You- China."
Certainly no dragon had ever worn such an indignant look. "Hmph, if you're just going to laugh at me, you can leave."
Magnificent, glorious, incomprehensible. China was a dragon.
His world tilted on its axis.
.
To be continued?
Additional notes!
-The monstrous presence of China and Korea alludes to China being a dragon, and (South) Korea a great tiger. The Chinese association with dragons is fairly obvious, I think, given the whole "descendants of dragons" thing and all. As for South Korea, though the "Four Asian Tigers" is a Western thing in reference to modern economy, I liked the imagery too much to pass up. Also, dragons and tigers are considered equal rivals to each other, and given how Korea's probably just a little younger than China himself, well. It's something I want to play with later, haha.
-Hou-ou, or what they call the Chinese phoenix. I mostly chose this as Japan's mask because of its association as the yin to the yang dragon. It amused me.
-The attendants are cranes because they are water birds! And dragons hold dominion over water. Yes.
-China doesn't quite moult like a snake.
Did I forget anything.