So… This turned out a lot darker than the last one. Like, a lot darker. It was meant to be a bittersweet fic about Kiku letting his family go after they were captive in his home, but it kind of turned off pretty early... Country names used quite a lot in this one, because I see that as being the more formal way of addressing each other. Warnings for hallucinations (bugs, blood, etc.) and mentions of children dying, death, war. (And yes, there's a reference to Grave of the Fireflies, because I'm a sucker for Studio Ghibli, but no crossover).

6th April 1943

The boat to Korea is painfully slow, Kiku thinks as it chugs slowly past Tsushima, tapping his finger impatiently against his arm and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He can feel eyes boring into his back- his exposed back, he reflects, because he is wearing no protection and it would the work of an instant for one of them to grab the nearest guard's gun and put a bullet in his spine.

But he doesn't turn, doesn't move to protect himself. Part of him wonders if China is channelling the sun, because the stare his older brother gives his back feels like two laser beams. He wants to scratch the burns that he's sure are developing, to get the awful bugs that are trapped beneath them out, and then shakes himself.

He's been doing that far too much, lately, slipping into these delusions that his logical mind knew were false. It was part of the reason he was doing what he was doing. Because no matter how much it stung his pride to watch the empire he'd dreamed of slip through his fingers, the shame of his family seeing him clawing at his arms until they were bloody messes because he had to get the bugs out, before he came to his senses and realised what he was doing, was far worse.

Besides, he knew, from somewhere deep inside him, that letting his family go was the best course of action. It was- it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? This was a moment of clarity. He was doing the right thing for once. It wouldn't right the wrongs of the past, but it would go some way to balancing out his- extremely bad- karma, wouldn't it?

China's eyes were still hot on his back. Japan could feel his bubbling and boiling and melting and burning, could feel his skin slowly seeping away, see the bugs flowing out of him- before he clenched his fists, driving his nails into his palm until they drew blood, and he could see clearly again. The delusions were getting stronger, harder to bring himself out of.

The boat docked in Busan. Kiku felt the shift of Korea as he stared longingly out into his country. He could see his own military bustling about here and there. He saw a comfort woman being led away. His stomach flipped over.

'Open the doors,' he ordered sailor, a captured Korean, who looked at him as though he was crazy, but did as he was told. 'Yamaha, Soga. You're free to go.'

'What?' Asked Yamaha, and Kiku could feel the confusion emanating from his guards. Impatience swelled within him. Didn't they realise that he was burning?

'You heard me,' snapped Kiku. 'Leave. I will deal with the gaijin.'

He felt Taiwan shift, obviously recognising that he was referring to them. Yamaha and Soga left with stiff bows in his direction, and headed towards the nearby military barracks. Kiku was left alone with his family, and the sailor, who looked terrified.

'Well?' Kiku snapped, still not turning because if he did then they'd see the insanity behind his eyes, he was sure they would. 'Get off the boat.' He spoke in Korean, because although he'd tried to teach them Japanese, none of his family even understood the basics, except for Lien, and Kiku hadn't ever bothered to catch her.

For a moment, no one moved but then Korea slowly stood, and a moment later they were all off the boat. The captain didn't move. Kiku would deal with him in a moment. He watched his family, at first hesitant but then hurried, sprint away from the docks, tracking them with his eyes until they were lost in the crowds. He turned to the sailor. He didn't know his name.

'Budi,' whispered the man, holding up his hands. 'I have children, I was promised that I'd be able to see them again, my wife needs me-'

'Go.' The man stopped short and blinked at him. 'Go,' Kiku repeated, anger building. 'Go and get away from here as fast as you can.'

That afternoon, Kiku was vaguely aware that he'd just done what could be loosely termed as a good thing. A general, who he technically outranked, but was willing to yell at him anyway, was getting very worked up about Kiku releasing the prisoners, and he didn't even know their significance. Kiku could only imagine the hell that he'd have to pay when he saw the highest-ranking generals back home. He longed to itch his back, because the bubbling skin had cooled like lava to form hard scar tissue.

He was sent back that night, and didn't fail to notice that a lot of the guards were watching him rather than the sea. But that was fine, because Kiku had struck up a conversation with a boy named Seita, and they spoke about Kobe, and mochi, and family. Kiku had the vague feeling that he was forgetting something, but he brushed it aside. He'd had a stressful day, and he wasn't currently succumbing to madness- let him enjoy his conversation with the child.

It was only that night, sat alone in his bedroom, looking over his shoulder at the smooth, unblemished skin of his back, tracing the line of his spine and jutting shoulder blades, that Kiku remembered what he'd forgotten earlier.

Amano Seita had died in the first bombing raids, two years ago.

... Yeah... So. Way darker. Sorry.

Translations:

Gaijin: foreigners, Japanese

Budi: please, Korean