Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
This fic is inspired by the song "The Water's Edge", by The Glass Child. It contains historical elements.
Fallen by the water's edge
Can't get up off my knees
The rose of truth
The thorns it grew
Our love far out at sea
(1) First Sight
The impact of the slap rendered him whimpering feebly on the ground. The child with light blonde hair glared up at his attacker. Tears glittered in tender sorrow, concealed perfectly behind his sleek, tousled bangs. The heart-wrenching whines did not reach the other's heart though. In fact, Mongolia's satiated grin accentuated his amusement in this torture game that had long transformed into a daily routine.
It was around that time the half-fledged nation's fragility was manifested to its fullest. His mentality cracked in constant coldness and forlornness.
"Enough!"
The Russian boy shivered upon realizing the third person's existence. A part of him was beaming with hope. A part, however, was intimidated by the possibility of someone joining in the torment.
It was their first encounter.
It wasn't a gorgeous memory to begin with.
They came across each other in the most horrendous, unsightly circumstances; when both were imprisoned and coerced by a rambunctious nation that came between their lands.
The first time he saw China, he was mesmerized by his powerful demeanor. It was composed of immense courage and dignity; the sort of strength and beauty someone as trivial as him could only admire from afar.
What a formidable nation it is.
He thought.
He had always heard tales about this stunning Asian nation. Most of the time, Mongolia would boast unabashedly about China's gorgeousness and gracefulness. Russia had never listened intently to all those sophisticated descriptions filled with exclamation and appreciation. He couldn't decipher them until he came face to face with this wondrous man of the legend.
The young man slipped out from behind the curtains and pranced towards his counterpart. Mongolia budged a little and heaped a scorn. A nonchalant smile crawled over his deadpan complexion as he stared without the tiniest bit of remorse at China.
"Do not interrupt me," Mongolia growled.
"Or what?" China cocked his brows, tilting his head with a scoff.
The larger man raised his fist and smacked across the porcelain white cheek. The force was sufficient to injure the other's jaw. Russia watched in horror as the jade hair clip snapped. The infinitely long, raven hair came loose from its confinements, sashaying over the Chinese man's shoulders. Tracing his hand over the swollen cheek, China glanced up at his neighboring nation- the one who had inflicted countless pain on him ever since he invaded him.
"That's all?"
He sneered and gazed mockingly at Mongolia. The hot-tempered man growled and attempted another bash, only to be caught by the Chinese nation in a split second.
"Don't overestimate yourself," China muttered, clutching Mongolia's fist tightly.
Knowing the conflict would lead them to nowhere, Mongolia snarled and retrieved his hand, exasperation boiling through him. He cussed and shoved the Chinese man fiercely onto the ground. Draping his robe around his shoulders, he shot one last glare to the shuddering Russian, as if to remind him of later punishment.
"You won't get away with this," Mongolia bawled, flipping his plait over his back. "Both of you."
China propped himself up with his elbows and fixed the meager gown wrapped around his body. It wasn't the first time Mongolia snapped so he was pretty accustomed to his outrages.
A small sob reminded him of the child's presence. He whirled around abruptly and blinked at the defenseless nation. He had seen the boy a couple of times since Mongolia brought him back after conquering him victoriously. He had always watched from behind the curtains, every single thing the Mongolian committed to the delicate boy.
"Oi, stop weeping, you little thing over there," China hummed, gazing over at the shivering Russian.
"What's your problem? I chased him away already."
Striding slowly towards the Caucasian, China sighed and kneeled down before the child.
He never realized what was going on in Russia's mind.
The boy would have thought it was a dream, to be rescued by something so ostentatious and refined. Those dark locks concocted a heavenly contrast with those pale, translucent skins. The appearance, the stature, the aura were all beyond flawless and breath-taking.
"What's your name?"
His eyes were still fixated on China. Once they landed on those scintillating orbs, he could never, ever remove them again.
"I mean your real name. I know you're Russia. Am I right?"
"You…know…me?"
The boy was astounded, but most of all, flattered that his existence was made known to someone so captivating.
"Why wouldn't I know you? We live under the same roof."
The Chinese man frowned innocently, wiping the straggling tears tainting the corners of Russia's eyes.
"Ch-China…You're China…?"
"Yes, I am. You can call me Yao. Wang Yao."
"Ivan…"
"Yi-what?"
"My name…Ivan."
"Ivan…Okay, well then, Ivan," The Chinese man nodded and stood up, hands on his hips confidently. "You'd better get a grip now. The trick with the enemy is to never show him your fear. Got it? I'm not going to back you up again next time. You've to be strong on your own, xiǎoguǐ."
(xi ǎ ogu ǐ* = little ghost, often used to address little, troublesome kid, similar to the meaning of kiddo/little thing)
Although he couldn't quite comprehend those words at that time, the boy thought it was the sweetest thing he had ever heard in his lifetime.
He watched his savior spin around again, his back facing him. Those shoulders looked broad enough to be a shield. And that beautiful polished hair was the most enthralling charm there would ever be.
Ivan reached out his hand and tried to grab it.
Yet, Yao had long slipped away as swiftly as he had appeared.
He never saw him again throughout the period they were under Mongolia's ruling.
But China's shadows stayed with him forever.
Just to see that tantalizing face once more, Ivan struggled to find a new reason to survive.
Or so he deemed.
Throw me all your secrets
And then turn them all on me
This rain falls like a symphony
The storm we grew to be
(2) Rejection
The second time they met, they were at war.
He couldn't exactly remember the root of this mild skirmish but when he confronted China again, he had become a young fellow. His maturity remained hardly compatible with the other man's though.
Still conscious of their height difference, Russia glanced up at the Chinese man, his violet eyes shimmering with much anticipation.
It had taken him decades to finally reach his first love again.
China drew his sword, seemingly oblivious to Russia's dithering. The sight was magnificent in Ivan's eyes. The power; the honor; the bravery… Everything was tremendous. It was the same determination and self-assurance that allured Ivan wholly when he was a child. However, he knew well he was also the cause of China's vexation.
He had never taken a serious account of this dangling affection in his heart. Before he even realized it, he was uncontrollably and irreversibly in love with China. He adored him. He respected him. He yearned to be him.
He wished to be just like him, straddling a horse gallantly wielding a sword, never menaced by battles and tears. The man was a fierce dragon; a desperate warrior; an elegant emperor. He was everything Ivan wished to be- the brightest star in the Milky Way, the rising sun of the East and the full moon in the rimless galaxy.
It was a pity the older one only viewed him as a source of irritation.
He felt the pressure on his chest as he was pinned down to the snowy ground. Sparkling amber eyes glared down indignantly at his pale, tear-drenched face.
Russia couldn't fathom why then; why China was hurting him; why he was revealing such an expression of disgust and dolefulness.
The blade lodged into the snow, missing his neck by an inch. Russia gasped and gawked at his foe.
"I told you not to show your enemy fear aru," China mumbled apathetically.
"I…want to be with you…" Russia stuttered, the coldness beneath his body slowly seeping through his nerves. No such coldness though could compare to that in China's eyes.
There was a moment of confusion, followed by perplexity and eventually incredulousness. China started laughing at the child's naïve joke.
"Don't be silly, xiǎoguǐ. Just because I saved your arse from Mongolia one time doesn't mean I'm siding with you. Do you honestly think that I cared enough to defend you? What an idiotic thought."
"Wh-What…why…?"
"We were both his prisoners, Ivan. What do you expect? I just wanted to piss him off. I only did you a little favor and you've kept stalking me since. Let's make this clear, boy. You're nothing but a nuisance. STOP following me around and crossing my borders! And guess what? I hate Europeans the most, including you! We FORBID any foreigners threatening our regime."
The sound of a shattering heart didn't seem to faze the Chinese man. He smiled in contentment at the agonizing complexion on the Russian's face.
He was in his peak era.
He was the strongest.
He was the centre of the earth.
He was the greatest.
He couldn't care less. He never cared much from the start.
And he so indulged in wounding a young, ignorant heart.
The tears trickling down Ivan's eyes fueled him with so much pride and supremacy.
What an unyielding, troublesome child.
He rolled his eyes and stood up. Sheathing his sword, he whipped around with his back facing the forsaken boy.
"W-Wait…don't leave…"
The smaller hand gripped the rim of his shining armor. Furrowing his brows, China turned around and scowled at Russia. He pulled out a dagger and without the slightest hesitation, stabbed the boy in the shoulder.
A shriek, blended with wail, reverberated in the deserted border. Blood splattered and oozed down to the melted snow.
The cut was deep enough to etch a permanent scar to the skin but light enough to heal in a few weeks' time.
Never had he thought much about the long-lasting twinge he inflicted on the boy's heart.
"You're so weak."
And still, Ivan couldn't comprehend why.
Why was he the one rejected but not those fortunate nations Yao had taken in?
He had seen Japan and Korea.
They were just like him when they first came to this world.
Alone. Lost. Craving for love and attention.
Why was it that they received what they desired but he was condemned for pursuing something he deserved?
"Am I that weak?"
Tears dribbled down his cheeks as he trailed his fingers around the gash. "Am I that weak in your eyes, Yao? I just want to be your friend…"
"I do not need a friend. If you take my words now, disappear forever in my sight. You annoy me to no end," the Chinese man claimed and hopped back onto his horse.
He was still as flamboyant and dauntless as could be.
But this time, watching his back gave the Russian even a more conceivable reason to live on.
"I'll…grow stronger…then I'll go find you…just you watch, Yao…my Yao-Yao."
I'm taking back my rights
I don't need your love to fly
I'll justify tonight
My heart beats like a tragedy
(3) Equilibrium
The cold chilled his bones. The boy twitched his gloved hands slightly, feeling the numbness sprawl across his receptors.
Winter was eternity.
Snow was his shelter.
Ivan stared down at the withering plant, the wrinkled leaves falling with brilliance. The petals once so vibrant were decaying in sprinkling manner. He sniffed. A drop of hot tear gradually crawled its way to his chin.
The colour had faded, transformed into a faint brownish shade. The sun was hovering above him and yet his heart was wrapped in massive coldness.
He quivered reflexively as a series of cherubic laughter echoed down the vacant border. Russia gasped and slumped down stealthily behind a pile of snow, merely able to shield himself from the others' sight.
Two dark-haired boys scampered on the other side of land, basking in warmth and ecstasy.
"Aiyah, Japan! Korea! Get back here, you two!"
The husky voice made him shiver in trepidation, though not enough to drive him away. Ivan gazed in silence as the Chinese man enclasped his two siblings, wrapping two exquisitely knitted scarves around their necks respectively.
"Don't forget your scarf aru! You're going to catch a cold out here."
The smile glimmered ever so impeccably under the illumination of sunlight.
Yao was like an angel dressed in silvery robe, his long glossy hair floating in the winter air like the finest silk the earth could ever have.
Something inside his heart melted. Russia recognized this feeling. He had long adapted to it.
It was called loneliness.
It was itchy, unendurable, excruciating.
It was far from grief, close to utter frustration.
He was so carried away by his own reverie when a hand landed roughly on his shoulder. Russia yelped and cringed instinctively, his eyes finally meeting those golden orbs for once.
Another decade had passed since China engraved the scar on his left shoulder.
He wasn't terrified of the Asian. And he saw no reason of being so when the subject was someone he genuinely loved.
"I told you to stay away from my border aru," Yao murmured, with a small hint of castigation. His expression, however, was much calmer than last time's.
The two nations had resorted to a friendly treaty of not meddling with each other's affairs. No more conflicts were to be stirred but mutual ignorance subsisted.
In his eyes, the Chinese man was still as mighty as a dragon. The way he glanced down at him with such authority was the best evidence of all.
"Cat caught your tongue?"
The boy shook his head and averted his gaze to the wilted sunflower. The stem had crooked. The petals were gone, blown away by the breeze.
"Only fools will mourn incessantly for the loss." China snorted. "If you let the past trap you, you're doomed aru."
"Even though…I tended to it…gave it water and sunshine, it died…"
"Because your land is cold, xiǎoguǐ. Quit dreaming of the impossible. Your land will never grow any flowers."
"If I try, it will!"
"Aiyah, you're so obstinate."
"I will grow a field. A field full of them."
"Impossible."
"Yao, if I grow stronger, will you love me?"
The boy asked, standing up from the ground. He was a head shorter than the other man but he had an intuition that he would soon stand higher than the conceited nation.
The Chinese man shrugged and held up a measly blossom. The colour echoed well with the younger boy's light blonde hair.
"I will give you this. Stop disturbing me with your weeps, xiǎoguǐ."
"Will you then?" Ivan persisted, clasping the tiny flower to his heart. The aroma dazed him. He was almost certain this was the most dazzling bloom he had ever seen. And it came from China.
It was Yao's second gift to him.
The first gift was the scar.
"Although our nations seek to achieve a peaceful relationship, I am not interested in you. I believe I have made this fairly clear before. I do not yield to the weak. We should not see each other again, Ivan."
"But…I love you da," the Russian whispered, soft enough to be filtered by the other man's ear. He lifted his eyes again and Yao had already vanished, leaving nothing but a strand of black hair lying on the perfectly white snow.
Ivan picked it up.
It smelled just like the flower.
You left the pieces of me on the ground
Then you turned around
I couldn't make a sound
The dust of what's left of you and I
Echoes in my mind tonight
You will hear me walking dead at night
Turning out the lights
Can we make things right?
I'll be anything you want
I'll learn to love you secretly
(4) Shattered
He took the bottle from his table and guzzled down the liquid. The stench of vodka filled the room.
A knock came promptly on the door, snapping him out of his mediation.
Russia chucked away the emptied bottle and wiped his mouth.
"Come in."
"U-Um…M-Mr. Russia? I…I've prepared your…breakfast," Lithuania stuttered. He placed the tray gingerly on the table and stared at the ground.
The now fully grown man stood up from his armchair and the other boy automatically flinched in horror. Impressed by his power and authority, Ivan stomped closer to his lackey until his back crushed the wall in sheer fright.
"Why so scared, Toris?" Russia grinned merrily. "I haven't done anything to you yet. Yet."
"Is…is something wrong, Mr. Russia?" Lithuania trembled.
"I'll skip breakfast today," Ivan answered plainly and released the perturbed man. He flipped the scarf over his shoulder and strutted towards the door.
"S-Sir...where…where are you going?" Lithuania asked, his heart still racing from the anxiety the larger man had caused him.
Russia halted and winked at his servant with a mirthful smile. "I'm going to visit an old friend, da."
Show me where forever died
Take me back to that night
Oh please just stay
I'll change my ways
I'll swear to make things right
I think I built a home in you
A place for me to stay
I held too tight
I sacrificed to always take the blame
The odor was intense and revolting. It was, nonetheless, reassuring at the same time. For anyone who walked past such place, they would be ineluctably drowned in this fascinating delusion.
Arthur put on his jacket and straightened his shirt, a proud, triumphant smile plastered all over his face. His eyes continued to roam over the naked body lying bedraggled on the disheveled bed sheet. The sight was extremely pathetic but also arousing. He would have opted for another round if it wasn't for the shuffle of those buoyant footsteps.
The British trotted out of the chamber solemnly, bumping right into the enormous nation. Russia tilted his head and glared resentfully at England, a crack of his knuckles indicating the extent of his repulsion.
"I know you." Arthur smirked. "Russia, right? The notorious big land buried in eternal winter."
"Clearly not as notorious as you, da? Mr. Pirate." Ivan smiled brightly, his hands balled up into fists.
"I take that as a compliment, Mr. Braginsky." Arthur simpered. "If you are here to find the great fallen oriental, he's inside. All ready at your service."
England giggled and swaggered past the taller man. Russia stiffened at the contemptible laughter. Resisting the urge to crush the British till he beseeched for mercy and forgiveness, Russia stepped into the chamber. Rings of smoke fogged his vision. The entire place reeked of sickening opium.
Sprawling over the bed, as England had promised, was a tattered soul barely covered by any cloth. The lengthy, black hair was still recognizable. So was the gorgeous face that was now immersed in complete sorrow and exhaustion. Dark circles surrounded the Asian's eyes. His face was as ashen as a sheet. His stature had shrunk to a scrawny shape. The once enchanting, elegant demeanor had long disappeared and replaced by deteriorating corruption.
China's ears twitched.
"What now…have you forgotten something again…England?"
He didn't even turn around. Clutching the pipe close to his mouth, he took another deep inhalation and wallowed in the senselessness the opium granted him.
"Yao."
China lolled down and rolled around so that his nude body came into the other man's sight. He frowned slightly at the unfamiliar visitor. The dimness didn't help either. It only obscured his vision more.
In a somewhat bewildered tone, he asked, "America? Is that…you?"
Ivan didn't budge. Instead, he kept observing the fallen nation. Irony was that he had risen to the top and yet the one who incited him to do so had plunged to the bottom.
"France?"
"Nyet," Ivan replied sharply and approached the sick nation. As he trudged closer to the candle, his face came clear into China's sight.
"Who're you?" Yao gasped, his hands quivering as he stared at the full-fledged nation. He wondered if it was another friend of England's. This one, however, looked pretty big and hostile.
"Da, you don't remember me, Yao-Yao?" Ivan smiled widely and climbed onto the gigantic bed, cornering the Asian without any ado.
"No…this is the first time we meet…isn't it aru?" China shook his head drowsily. Maybe he had met him before. Maybe not. Well, he didn't care. He just wanted to be left alone with his pipe.
"Ah!" The Asian yapped as the other man yanked him by his leg. "No…please…I'm exhausted…are you…are you Arthur's friend?"
"How many people have you allowed to sleep with you here, Yao-Yao?" Ivan asked, still retaining the innocent smile on his face. "I can see you can't even walk properly now, can you?"
"H-How…rude aru…Go…Go away…" China pouted and took another sip of the drug. "Xiang…aiyah…that child…has wandered off again…always…making me feel so lonely aru…"
Ivan frowned and grabbed the pipe, tossing it violently across the room.
"A-Aiyah! W-What did you…ah!" China screeched as his back hit the bed hard. Fear had never gotten better of him. He started to panic once he realized his body was straddled and pinned down forcibly by the unknown foreigner.
"I thought you service anyone who comes in," Russia quipped, stripping himself swiftly while keeping a firm grip on China's arms.
"Ai…are you…are you a customer…"
"You've fallen afar, Yao-Yao."
"O-Opium…I need…opium…" China coughed, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as his craving suppressed his senses. "Arthur…"
"You're so pitiable. Don't you remember me now?" Ivan shook his head in dismay. "I've come back for you, China. Oh, my great, fine Yao-Yao."
The Chinese man widened his eyes. The unprepared thrust caused him to squirm in agony. He was lucky his rear had been lubricated from his previous session with England. He squealed, nevertheless, at the raw intrusion of the "stranger". He couldn't seem to remember who this light-blond was. And yet, he couldn't deny there was an eccentric familiarity. He had seen this childish face somewhere before. Some centuries before when he was still at the top of the world.
What was this pain rupturing his heart?
The moment their bodies connected with each other, the memories came flowing back at once. And yes, he did remember it. He just didn't want to admit the truth; the truth that Ivan, the little child he had once belittled and neglected, the once powerless nation he had salvaged and hurt, had returned as someone completely different. He had gotten so much stronger and larger than any other countries. He was no longer a child China could control, surpass or taunt.
"Do you remember me now, Yao-Yao? Can you see this scar you left on me?" Russia interrogated as he kept pounding into the Asian. He pointed to the obvious scar ingrained on his left shoulder.
"Y-Yes…Yao…remembers it…" China babbled and groaned. "P-Please…Please…I…I know I did many bad things in the past… but please don't hurt me…anymore…duìbùqǐ…. duìbùqǐ…" (duìbùqǐ*= Sorry)
"Why are you apologizing? It's me who came too late da." Russia hummed, bending down to kiss the Chinese man.
Centuries of hankering finally set him ablaze.
He relished in ravaging and destructing the other nation.
How he loved the sight of a vulnerable China.
How he felt so delighted to be capable of laying his hands on this flawless skeleton.
And yet, he was disgusted and enraged.
He couldn't believe the mighty dragon had descended to the bottom of the sea.
He couldn't believe the once gallant warrior had plummeted to the sea of drugs and exploitation.
He couldn't believe the once respectable emperor had turned into nothing but Westerners' slave and prisoner.
"I-Ivan!"
Hot, burning tears sputtered onto his face. He stared at the wailing Asian in anguish.
"Please!" China sniveled, practically pleading. "I…I'm sorry, Ivan! Don't….Don't hurt me…"
"You didn't wait for me. I've listened to you. I've gotten stronger for you. But you let them have you before I do. Unforgivable."
And no matter how many times he vented his anger on China, nothing could suture his bleeding heart.
The more heart-breaking China's cries were, the more energy it fueled him with.
If this nation was to be broken, it had got to be done by him.
He would be the sole one to love and hate China whole-heartedly.
"Ivan…"
Russia succumbed to the moan. Tears cascaded down his face as he hugged the battered body. He hugged it ever so tightly as if it would drift away from him again.
He didn't mind if it was warped.
He didn't mind if it had been tainted by others.
Even if this body was no longer the same as it used to be, it still belonged to Wang Yao.
His Yao-Yao by the heart.
He couldn't let China out of his sight again.
He had watched him vanish before him so many times.
This time, he caught him. He finally caught up with the oriental.
And he would never let go of this love anymore.
"I love you, Yao-Yao. I've always loved you. Why would you do that to yourself? And to me?"
The Russian cried in grievance. He felt so wronged.
"S-Stop weeping…xiǎoguǐ…" Yao muttered, gently stroking the muddled light hair. "Your cries always break my heart aru…"
I'm taking back my rights
I don't need your love to fly
I'll justify tonight
My heart beats like a tragedy
(5) Despair
He watched him fall.
He watched others extort his treasures.
He watched them pillage his gold.
He watched them surround his palace.
And yet, he didn't stop them.
He joined in the march. All he could do was to usurp the biggest share of Yao's land.
The eight nations stood motionless as they watched the Asian kneel down in despair. England and Japan, of course, played the most significant roles in abusing him. They cornered the wrecked oriental and gave him a final blow in the guts.
China fell with a moan. Clenching his fists tightly, he tasted the warm blood dribbling down his forehead.
"Time to surrender, China."
The American stepped up and voiced with a heroic grin, apparently claiming all victory to himself when in fact he was just joining in for the fun.
"Never."
The answer came clear and firm.
Rifles were loaded and pistols were triggered.
A thunderous bang resounded in the ruins.
The Chinese man collapsed in painful grace. Half of his hair was shot off, cut down to his shoulder. His chest was penetrated, his limbs scraped harshly with the skin peeled off. He only let out a stifled groan as he lay unconscious in his long, silky robe, sullied by the endless scarlet fluid that flooded the room.
The dragon had perished.
The realm had died.
Ivan watched in speechlessness. At that exact moment, his world almost crumbled down.
His heart was stung by a pang of pain and disappointment.
He waited till everyone left to claim their shares of land.
He dashed towards the inanimate body and held it close to his own. The eyes were shut peacefully and for once, a serene expression returned to China's face.
"Yao…"
No answer.
Gone was the breathing.
So was the pulse.
The dynasty had been overthrown.
There was no more Chinese kingdom. No more Imperial China.
No more centre of the earth. No more dragon.
No more warrior. No more emperor.
No more Wang Yao that Ivan knew.
"Yao…Yao…" His voice was muffled. His tears wouldn't stop. He clutched the corpse tighter and tighter, pledging to never let go.
This man, this beautiful man he had vowed to love for all eternity, was gone.
Gone for good.
Gone forever.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
It was his fault.
"Don't worry, Yao-Yao…you don't have to suffer anymore. I'll stay with you..."
You left the pieces of me on the ground
Then you turned around
I couldn't make a sound
The dust of what's left of you and I
Echoes in my mind tonight
You will hear me walking dead at night
Turning out the lights
Can we make things right?
I'll be anything you want
I'll learn to love you secretly
(6) Rebirth
"Listen up, dudes!" America said, clapping his hands to capture the others' attention. The rest of the allies rolled their eyes and looked up at him. "I've got some big news for all of you! We're having a new member joining the allies! WOAH!"
"Oh? Honhonhonhon, is it going to be a beauty?" France chuckled excitedly.
"Stop making a fuss. Just introduce him already," England said and calmly drank his favourite Earl Grey tea.
"Sure! Come in, dude!" America exclaimed loudly and opened the door, revealing a young man dressed neatly in a green military uniform.
Everyone froze on the spot.
"Nín hǎo! I'm China! You might have met the previous me, who's also known as the Imperial China! Since the dynasty's been overthrown, I don't have an exact government at the moment. I'm currently under the rule of Kuomintang though. Nice to meet you all."
"Yao?" England and France gasped.
A glass was slipped, shattered upon hitting the ground.
Russia stood up in astonishment and gaped at the Asian man.
The shoulder-length hair was tied into a small ponytail. The amber eyes twinkled with enthusiasm.
"I know you. I've got the previous me's memory. You're England, right? Arthur Kirkland to be more precise. France…Francis Boonefoy. And…" China paused for a moment as he scanned the Russian from head to toe. A cordial smile re-emerged on his face. "And Russia, or Ivan Braginsky."
"And don't forget the hero of the world- Alfred. F. Jones, United States of America!" America laughed and wrapped his arms around his new fellow ally. "Welcome to the Allied Forces, Wang Yao! I mean, CHINA!"
They say that time will heal
But I can't seem to find the cure
You ask if I'm okay
But I'm not welcome anymore
We perished each alone
Just like the night turns into dawn
And now I kneel in the night
"China! Wait up!" Russia yelled, scurrying after the Chinese young man.
The Asian spun around with a polite smile and nodded. "Yes, Russia?"
"Yao…" Ivan halted, tracing his hands tenderly over the smooth, fine skin.
There was no mistaking it.
It was him.
But not quite.
He knew this one was different- different than the one he used to know and love.
He knew he was just another reincarnation of Wang Yao; another reborn personification to meet the new era.
And yet, he looked so much like him.
It felt so right. It felt so wrong.
It was the same hair; the same face; the same eyes; the same body and height.
This man, however, was not equipped with the same arrogance and vanity he used to possess.
He was unexpectedly optimistic and cheerful.
"What's it, Ivan?"
He shivered at the calling of his real name.
It was the same voice.
The same tone.
"Ivan?"
Those strong arms wrapped tightly around his petite body. Documents went flying all over the ground.
"I'm sorry, Yao. I'm so sorry…" Russia hummed, burrowing his face into the other's shoulder.
His love was lost and returned.
He wasn't sure if he ought to feel blessed or wronged.
"I remember you," China stated calmly, brushing his hand over those soft locks. "You cried the loudest at my funeral."
"Yao-Yao? Do you…remember everything? Everything between us…?"
"I might be a reincarnation but I've got all his memories. Literally speaking, I'm still as old as him because I've preserved all the history. And yes, everything is clear in my mind. Everything that happened in the past. Including you."
"I'm sorry."
"Look,,," The Chinese man smiled and pulled away from the Russian. "Let's put the past behind us. Throughout the centuries, we've hurt and ignored each other. As a nation, I cannot forgive your deed because you seized my land. But as Wang Yao, I do wish we could start again. Nice to meet you, Ivan Braginsky. Are you willing to be my friend?"
"Yao…" Russia gulped. Tears re-surfaced his eyes. "Yao-Yao…"
"Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" Yao urged, holding out his hand.
"Of course, da!" Ivan cried. He took the other's hand abruptly and instead of shaking it, he hugged the entire body.
"Aiyah…you're such a crybaby. Stop weeping, xiǎoguǐ. Your tears are going to stain my uniform!"
And with that, he believed they could start anew.
" I love you, Yao-Yao. I've always loved you."
" I know aru. I've never forgotten it and never will."
You left the pieces of me on the ground
Turn around
Make no sound
You and I
In my mind
Every night
You won't return
Die or learn
Kill the hurt
In my mind
Every night
Lost the fight
Now I will love you secretly