The diclaimer is at the bottom c:
I hope you enjoy. It's my first real Ameripan fanfiction.
Cherry Blossom Tenshi
Melancholy blossoms flitter delicately to the ground, twirling and dancing in the wind. Amber sunlight filters gently through the tree branches, setting everything it touches alight in a luminescent golden glow. A slow-moving brook whispers by, and birds sing their songs of joy and rebirth. A delicate hand shrouded by the heaviest of silk sweeps along the bark of the treasured Sakura tree, brushing along the surface, as careful as the wings of the butterflies. The hand reaches up, plucking a single blooming flower from its home. He brings it up to his nose, savoring the sweet, soft scent, evoking bliss from the petite body. Pensive eyes are half-lidded in reminisce, however the brown orbs are filled with life and vigor, conflicts of emotion swirling around in their murky depths. Smooth black hair is sent astray in the gentle wind as it whispers by, promising a prosperous spring with it.
The oriental kimono draped along the petite body's shoulders ruffles some as he suddenly turns, gazing outward at the serene terrain outstretched before him. He spots a few of his people praying at the Shrine, giving their thanks to the Kami-sama, and a gentle smile decorates his typically unimpassioned features of porcelain. He loves seeing his people in a time of prosper … Suddenly, a voice- "Kiku," –resounds behind him, and he turns, gazing up at the blonde stranger cast before him.
White silk flutters gently as it's swept up in the clutches of a passing breeze, and dark tresses of wispy hair wave in front of his eyes like the ocean's water. Eyes of the deepest brown shimmer as salt-water brims his lower eyelids, pricking at his long eyelashes. He reached up to touch the person in front of him, pressing a tender hand against the other's chest, where his heart would be. The man of orient – Kiku, as he was so called – could feel the light pattering of the other's heart under his palm, and glee filled his chest. It was so wonderful … To see his friend was doing so well; was so healthy.
"Alfred-san …"
The name slips past his plump lips, and a bedazzling expression of pure delight lights up his features of lackluster. A small pang invades his heart for a fleeting moment however, as he meets the glowing man's gaze of passionate cerulean. His eyes soften into a frown of sorts, and the breeze dies down. His companion notices his distress, and bends down to his height, looking him in the eyes. He shows a goofy, childish smile.
"What's up, Keeks? You look upset 'er somethin' …"
The American's voice leaves an impression on Kiku's ears, and he looks away for a brief moment. "Hai, I am fine, Alfred-san. Arigato." He looks up at Alfred once more, letting his hand fall to his side. Kiku knows his friend is perfectly capable of seeing through his numbing façade. Even though the horrible tragedy that was bestowed upon the Japanese nation had occurred decades ago, he still often thinks of it. Just as he knows the American nation standing in front of him does. It fills his heart with the deepest dread, yet at the same time, the most astonishing happiness. Yes … The Second World War was a time neither of them would ever forget.
Kiku had been in a true state of euphoria – drunken on power; high on blood-lust. He was caught up in the desire for domination, and lost sight of what was truly important.
The Japanese isn't aware as the tears that had gathered in his eyes now begin to spill, and he quite suddenly throws himself towards the blonde, fervent hands gripping at his shirt. He sobs, body-wracking shudders ripping through his body. Alfred holds onto him, surprised by his friend's sudden outburst. Kiku isn't a touch-feely kind of man – in fact, he often becomes flustered or shrinks back when someone touches him. So the very fact that Kiku is now clinging onto Alfred like his life depends on it … It simply blew his mind. He doesn't know what could possibly cause his friend to suddenly act like this, but he holds onto him all-the same. He coos words of comfort to him.
He asks; "What's wrong?"
"Gomen …" Kiku whispers against the tall, broad-shouldered man's chest. "It still hurts to think about …"
It doesn't take much for Alfred to realize what he means.
"It's all over now though, ya know. We're cool, right?"
His rugged language is enough to bring a sad smile to Kiku's lips. "Mm, hai. But …"
"Alfred-san … I give this to you … As a present …" The timid Japanese male thrusts out a bouquet of Cherry Blossoms, a soft pink tint invading his cheeks. Alfred takes it, puzzlement flashing in his brilliant blue orbs.
"What for?"
"To show our friendship* …" A meek smile forces its way out, and Kiku bows at the waist. A soft breeze blows by, caressing their warm skin. "Please, plant them. It would mean so much to me."
That was in the year of 1912, as Kiku had told Alfred – to celebrate the friendship between the two of them. The American had gratefully accepted his gift, giving him American Beauty roses in return. Such gleeful times those were, between the two of them.
"I promise, Alfred-san, I will never hurt you …"
He had said those words that day …
"Me either, Keeks. We're pals, right? And pals don't hurt each other!"
And it hurt to still remember them …
"Hai … Pals …"
Because they were lies …
World War Two came around before the either of them knew what was happening.
Boom.
A shiver ripples up Kiku's spine, and pain tears through every fiber of his small, delicate body. He screams for thousands, tears of red crystal suddenly spilling and caring a path down his cheeks. He writhes as he falls onto the ground, his vision taken over by a hot, white light.
Boom.
Another one. This time, the feeling was stronger. He screams again. He can feel the hands of nonexistent people clawing at him, ripping at his clothing. Blood oozes out of his flesh wounds, and his skin heats up to the point where he feels as if he's being burnt alive. He'd never felt so close to death. Who could be doing this to him? Where are his people? Are they safe? What's going on? He clutches for his still-sheathed katana, trying to use it to prop himself up. Pain sears through his back, and he merely falls to the ground once more.
"Nihon-sama!" He can barely hear the voices of his soldiers as they call out to him, trying to make sense of the fiasco displayed before them. Their shoes click lightly against the tile floor as they run to aid their leader. Their country. Their home … Kiku remembers feeling hands on him, before he succumbs to a dark, cold numbness.
Alfred holds Kiku tighter in his arms as his sobs grow heavier, and they sit down in the grass underneath a Sakura tree.
Please help …
Alfred strokes Kiku's hair back, rocking slightly, trying to soothe.
A golden hand is extended out towards the now defeated Nation. How was he let in here? Who let him in here? … "Alfred-san …"
"I forgive you for what you did." The blonde says to his petite, fragile samurai-friend. "And so does everyone else."
He takes Alfred's hand, suppressing a shriek as pain sizzled through him. He was lifted into Mr. Hero's arms. Kiku stares blankly at the other, keeping his gaze on the other's own, peering past his black-rimmed glasses, directly into those blue pools. "Why are you helping me …" It's not a question. "After I've hurt you, and everyone else so much … Why help me now … Alfred-san."
"… Do you forgive me?"
"Because!" Alfred exclaims as he looks at the Nation cradled in his arms – looking beaten and miniscule. Fragile and delicate like a new-born babe. "You're my friend … And friends have to stick together! 'Till the end!" Because that's what friends do …
"…" Kiku opens his eyes, warm sunlight cast across his physique. His skin glows a light amber, and his golden hair sparkles like nothing Kiku had never seen before. His blessed features are bright and full of compassion. And his eyes … Like warm, languid pools of water … They pierce straight through Kiku's heart, mind, and soul, captivating him. A few stray petals from the Sakura trees flit down, landing in his hair and on his clothes. In such a state, why … Kiku could describe him as nothing less than a Tenshi … A beautiful, caring, shield … Someone who brings sadness, but also brings exuberance to anyone he meets.
"Friends … We're … Friends …" The black-haired male echoed, liquid crystals slipping past his eyes. "Hai … I'm so sorry … Alfred-san …"
"I do …" Kiku whispers. "Because you're my friend …" No, Alfred is more than that to him. Alfred is a Tenshi …
"I know, Keeks … I know. Me too. You have no idea …" He can hear the regret in his voice, and the Asian knows it's genuine.
His Tenshi covered in cherry blossoms – a representation of change, beauty, and life …
"Thank you …"
The two males sit underneath the tree, embracing one-another, hearts aflutter. Another tender breeze makes its presence known to the World, sending the gentle flowers scattering in its grasp.
"Any time, Keeks." That goofy smile he always seemed to wear was enough to make the oriental male smile, too.
"My Cherry Blossom Tenshi …" He whispers as he's held. "Arigatō ... Son'nani ... Watashi no Arufureddo-san ... Watashi no sakura no tenshi ... Aishiteruyo ..."
"What's that, Keeks?" Alfred didn't quite hear him.
"Mm … Nothing …" He smiles to himself, tightening his grip on the other. "Nothing at all."
Japanese-to-English Key:
Sakura: Cherry Blossoms, or Cherry Trees
Kimono: The kimono (着物) is a Japanese traditional garment worn by men, women and children. The word "kimono", which literally means a "thing to wear" (ki "wear" and mono "thing"), has come to denote these full-length robes. The standard plural of the word kimono in English is kimonos, but the unmarked Japanese plural kimono is also sometimes used.
Kimono are T-shaped, straight-lined robes worn so that the hem falls to the ankle, with attached collars and long, wide sleeves. Kimono are wrapped around the body, always with the left side over the right (except when dressing the dead for burial.), and secured by a sash called an obi, which is tied at the back. Kimono are generally worn with traditional footwear (especially zōri or geta) and split-toe socks (tabi).
Today, kimono are most often worn by women, and on special occasions. Traditionally, unmarried women wore a style of kimono called furisode, with almost floor-length sleeves, on special occasions. A few older women and even fewer men still wear the kimono on a daily basis. Men wear the kimono most often at weddings, tea ceremonies, and other very special or very formal occasions. Professional sumo wrestlers are often seen in the kimono because they are required to wear traditional Japanese dress whenever appearing in public.
Kami-Sama: Kami-sama (神様), the Japanese word for "deity". The word is used to indicate any sort of god, beings of a higher place or belonging to a different sphere of existence, or the Judeo-Christian God.
-San: This is the most common honorific, and is equivalent to mr., miss, ms., mrs., etc. it is the all-purpose honorific and can be used in any situation where politeness is required. Other honorifics include; -sama, -chan, -kun, -sempai, -niisan, etc.
Hai: The Japanese word for yes.
Arigato: The informal way to say "Thank you." Only used around people you know well. Whereas Arigatogozaimasu would substitute as the formal way.
Gomen: Like Arigato, it is the informal way to say "I'm sorry". Gomennasai is the formal way.
Nihon-Sama: Nihon (日本) is the Japanese word for "Japan", whereas "-Sama" means Master. It's typically used to address people of a higher status than you – such as a Prince, or, in this case, the country of Japan.
Tenshi: The Japanese word for "Angel".
Arigatō ... Son'nani ... Watashi no Arufureddo-san ... Watashi no sakura no tenshi ... Aishiteruyo ...: Literally translated to: "I love you ... my angel ... ... Mr. Alfred cherry ... Thank you so much my ... " … a rough English translation dictates it as this, however: "Thank you ... So much ... My Alfred-san ... My Cherry blossom angel ... I love you ..."
Japanese Customs:
In Japan, it's quite common for people to share close bonds – almost like lovers. It's not frowned upon if men hug each other, or kiss each other on the cheek. It's not considered homosexual. It's also not considered weak if a man cries. In the Hein Era Japan, if a man were strikingly beautiful, and wasn't afraid to shed a few tears, he was considered strong.
1912: Exchange of the Sakura
In the year of 1912, Japan gave a present of 3,020 Sakura trees to America, whereas the First Lady gave the wife of the current Japanese Ambassador a gift of American Beauty Roses in response. It was used to show the friendship that had formed between the two countries.
Disclaimer:
I, in no way, claim ownership of the Anime, Manga, and Web-comic Hetalia. This was merely a fanfiction, created at the spir of the moment. I do not make a profit for creating this, and is not up for publishing. Hetalia and its respectful characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
(( Hetalia is a basically-plotless Web-comic, Anime, and Manga, used to educate people by giving countries humanoid-personifications. In the process, it adds humor to keep it interested, and un-history-related scenes. ))