Alright. Don't judge me. I know it's terrible for me to dive headfirst into a new fanfic when I have like five more I still need to update... I couldn't help it. Really. Please.
I'm going to limit it to five bullets per chapter.
[1] There will be some NiChu fluff. Fluff is something I can not write to save my life. Please, I'm sorry.
[2] There will be angst. I'm good at angst, so.
[3] This will be a four-shot following a specific format, so this will be updated.
[4] Actually, it might not if not a lot of people read it. I don't know—I'll decide later.
[5] Well then, enjoy! Remember to leave a review if you've got any comments, and even if you haven't.
[Ichi. Nihon.] 一・日本
The sky was so blue today.
It was autumn, and it was beautiful, like an oil-on-canvas painting, dotted with flames of fire. It was one of those days with tanzanite-blue skies and fluffy clouds, one of those days where it felt like nothing could ever go wrong.
The sun rose slowly.
Shouts of laughter were heard in the background. There was a loud crunch of a crinkly leaf as it was trod on. The wind blew a gingko off its branch, silhouetting it against the azure sky.
.
Quiet footsteps echoed through the nearly-silent street.
One figure, one lone figure, stood soundless, half-hidden by the shadows.
If he tried, he could still hear them laughing.
He looked at the sky.
Still blue.
Still bright.
Still clear.
Still mocking him as if it were just another day—just another day.
.
Taiwan had offered him a honey candy this morning.
Japan had never enjoyed the taste of candy as much as she had, but he took it out of politeness. He recognized it as the kind that China had given him, years ago, and that he'd never had since.
After Taiwan left, he considered throwing it away.
Why would he want it, anyway? He had better ones now.
It called to him, though. So, standing in the narrow alleyway between two buildings, he tore apart the cellophane wrapper and placed it carefully in his mouth.
From the moment it touched his tongue, there is a sudden burst of flavor—
A spicy, zesty flavor...
A sour flavor, that vanished almost immediately...
A warm, comforting, homey flavor...
.
And then sweet.
.
Sweet
adj. 1 having the pleasant taste characteristic of sugar or honey; not salty, sour, or bitter
2 Pleasing in general, delightful; highly satisfying or gratifying
.
Sweet.
Because those days were sweet.
Sweet, like the honey candies that China gave him. Sweet, like the nectar of the blossoms Taiwan wore in her hair. Sweet, like the desserts South Korea would shower them all with. Sweet, like the smile that China wore, as he tucked him into bed, after everyone else...
He rolls his tongue over the smooth surface of the spherical candy.
Sweet.
.
《一・日本》One. Sweet.
"Chuu-nii, what does 'love' mean?"
"Eh?"
"I heard Formosa-chan talking about it earlier... What does it mean to love someone very much?"
The older man laughed and looked down. "Well," he began, "it's pretty hard to explain. Basically, it means you like someone a lot, but more than that... it's like you would do anything for them, and you wouldn't be able to stand it if they weren't in your life anymore."
There was a pause before the young nation looked up, a childish look of concern on his face. "Do you love me, Chuu-nii?"
"Of course."
"Very much?" China almost laughed at Japan's need to make sure.
"Yes," he told him. "I love you very, very much."
.
《一・日本》Two. Sweet.
"You know, you're a very good artist, Ri-ben."
The child at the table leapt up, promptly knocking over a bottle of ink. "Aa! Sumimasen!" he gasped. The large grin on his face that had appeared at the compliment now vanished.
"It's no problem," China replied, hastily rushing to pick it up before the toddler could make it worse. With another look at the boy's ashamed face, he sighed and tried to brighten the mood. "That's a very pretty picture. Did you draw it yourself?"
The younger nation's frown vanished. "Yes, I did! Do you like it?"
China smiled warmly. "You're very talented."
Japan positively beamed.
.
《一・日本》Three. Sweet.
"What are you doing, Chuu-nii?"
China paused. "Tai Chi," he replied.
"What's that?" Japan asked childishly.
"Tai Chi is a way to exercise in the morning, so that when you grow up you don't become old and clumsy like me."
There was a pause. China regarded his young charge carefully as Japan stared up at him, eyes wide.
"I think you're very graceful, Chuu-nii. And very pretty," he added as an afterthought.
China opened his mouth, not sure what to say, but the Japanese boy cut him off. "I like your hair very much, too. What kind of shampoo do you use?"
China sighed.
.
《一・日本》Four. Sweet.
"Chuu-nii... are you immortal?"
"Huh? Why do you ask?"
"Um... because people go somewhere else when they are old, right? But you are still here..."
"I..," he began, but the words vanished. "It's... hard to explain. But why are you so worried?"
"I don't want you to leave, Chuu-nii."
"Hey—are you crying?" China moved forward to wipe the child's tear away. "Look, it's okay. I promise that for as long as you need me, I'll be here."
I promise I won't forget the tie that links us.
.
《一・日本》Five. Bitter.
To think that he would be the one to break this bond.
His hand was gripped tightly behind his back, his knuckles as white as his pale face. It was all so familiar, every bit of China's house reminded him of something from those days—the vase that Korea had once smashed was now held together with glue so perfectly applied that it seemed to be in one piece. The back part of the alcove was stacked with fireworks, from when Hong Kong had stashed them there. The garden was still live with chrysanthemums; his namesake.
Memories.
Sweet ones, those were, yet here he was ready to shatter it all.
"What are you doing here, Ri-ben? It's almost twelve."
He jumped and he whirled around, instantly unsheathing his katana and pointing it to the other man's throat, but China did not move. He did not retaliate. Japan seethed. How dare he look so calm?
And... was that pity he saw in those eyes? What did China think, that he was still some foolish little kid? "I'm not your little brother anymore!" he snapped. "This is war! This is war and so all past bonds are broken!" Because I'm Nihon-koku and I'm strong and I won't be dragged back by a love that I had for you decades ago! This is every-man-for-himself and I'm ready to do whatever it takes and everything that we had ever shared between us... "Every love that I have ever felt for you, everything you think I once had, is gone!"
For a moment something flashed behind those sepia eyes—hurt, anger—but he ignored it and he drew back, and he wondered why, why was he doing this but he couldn't stop, his mind was on fire, images and sounds seared through his brain but he couldn't comprehend them; he could only feel what was there; the cold, hard handle of the sword and the steel blade, his thoughts were racing but his body was moving faster and he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to and so he tried and tried and tried to block out all thoughts but inside he was hearing screams and laughs and he pulled back with his eyes shut tightly and he didn't think he just moved forward and he stabbed.
Blood splatters on the ground.
He... falls.
He falls and for a moment, Japan moves forward—almost on impulse—to catch him as he had done so many times before, his father, his brother, his lover, but now he'd broken it all and he couldn't stand to see this—this guilt—and so he turns and runs away.
For one last time he glances over his shoulder, looking into the eyes of the man he loved, one final time, bracing himself for hurt and betrayal, yet all he sees is a calm look and there is a surge of anger—China is mocking him with his last dying breaths, China is extracting the guilt from the depths inside the case he stored it in. China is opening him up even on his deathbed—why—If I'd seen anger in him, then it would be so easy... To keep everything inside. It would have been war. I could not feel guilty for doing what I had done. Yet this is brother-against-brother, and by being so... calm, he is... he is pulling out my deepest feeling because he knows me, the way any caring older brother would.
He knows me.
He loves me.
I can't let him do this... I am strong! I've changed, I'm past that—I'm not going to let some silly romance get in the way of this... I'll conquer the world, then what will China do... The metal blade clatters to the floor and footsteps pound as he sprints out of the house, knocking aside potted plants and wooden chairs. He flees, tears he'd tried to hold back pouring soundly down his face, his heart pounding in his chest. A terrible scream rings through his ears, but there's no one around—he's alone, deserted, on the outskirts of Shanghai yet a loud shriek rips through the air, sound waves vibrating in his throat as his cries out in pain, frustration, anger, guilt, horror, and just how bitter his life has become.
He couldn't stand it—the world spun and whizzed—he collapsed to his knees, unable to bear it any longer, wondering why, why would he ever do such a thing.
There was a bitter taste in his mouth so he tried to spit it out, but he couldn't and his head was pounding and all he tasted was the sourness and resentment and the bitter taste that he couldn't feel anything else but Bitter.
.
[Ichi. Nihon.] 一・日本
He's silent.
The candy has long since melted in his mouth, leaving behind a lingering taste of slight sweetness.
He notes, though, that it has a rather bitter aftertaste that he never quite realized before.
Please excuse how bad this is. This is the first time I've ever tried writing fluff. And note that #3 is my first time writing humor that is not crack. At least, it's my lame trial. I'm so sorry.
If you can, I'd really like some feedback on the bad parts. I always appreciate con-crit.
Thanks for reading! I hope to get the next chapter up soon.
—Mikako-chan