This is for you Victoria. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the characters used in this work. This is a work of fiction, and not to be taken as historical fact.
Things weren't supposed to go like this. He was the older, superior country, how could he possibly have been bested by such a small, weak force? China groaned, his head pounding. Somehow, that little insect Japan had rendered him unconscious and had brought him to this unknown location.
Surveying his surroundings, China saw that he was in an unremarkable room, with plain wooden walls and floor. China was bound to a metal chair, situated on top of a bland red rug. The windows were covered, allowing almost no light. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could tell he was alone.
China was all alone in this soundless twilight. He tried vainly to struggle out of his ropes, but he was too weak. His muscles felt on the verge of failure. He didn't know what to do. His mind was too jumbled to form a coherent thought. A feeling of despair settled over his soul.
"It appears you have realized the gravity of the situation." China looked up and saw that Japan had entered the room while he was in his befuddled state. He looked up at the young country groggily, unsure of what was in store for him.
"As you know, this is a war. And in wars certain actions are expected to be taken. Unfortunately, not all of those actions are noble or honorable." Japan walked over to his captive, his face stoic and impassive. China continued to stare at him blankly. "Do realize, it's nothing personal." And in that instant, China saw a flash of something in the young country's eyes. 'He's deranged.'
As suddenly as that thought came to him, China found himself untied from the chair and face down on the rug. He was still too weak to move. He was at the complete mercy of the young country looming over him.
Cold air hit is buttocks as China felt his bottom layers of clothing being removed. "There are no pleasantries in war, I'm afraid. This is simply how things must be conducted." Japan's emotionless voice only made the older country feel even more anxiety.
The nudge at his entrance only worsened things. It was as if he were being penetrated by a blade. He felt his passage being ripped, blood dripping down his legs. Japan made no sound, unlike his counterpart's cry. The movements tore the screams from China's throat, making it raw.
However, a few moments later, the pain dulled. No pleasure came, though, even though France had stated many times over that this was indeed highly enjoyable. China remained motionless as pain racked his body, small whimpers now being the only sound he made.
Japan continued to stay silent. His movements were consistent neither speed up, nor slowing down. They were mechanical, done not out of desire, but necessity. Not too much longer after the initial thrust, China felt a thick, sticky substance enter him. The fluid stung his already tender wounds.
Japan stood, adjust his clothing and said, "Don't worry. I will not kill you. That would serve no purpose. Food will be brought shortly." He exited the room, leaving the still bleeding China in that prone position on the rug.