Title: Taiyō Ga Jōshō Suru.
Meaning: The sun will rise.
Why: For the people of Japan, may God bless them.
Now: I'm crying. I'm using their nation/country names... easier for me...
Still crying.
White.
That is the first thing he sees when his eyes finally open.
White.
Not the innocent, beautiful white of fresh snow. But tainted white. Faded white. Was there such color?
The sound of steady beeping of a monitor reaches his ears, and even that sparks a headache. He breathes deeply. Pain attacks his lungs and he coughs. The taste of copper tingles in his mouth.
"Japan!"
He winces away from the loud, echoing exclaim from his left side. The room spins, and he groaned. He hears a slap and an "Ow, England!"
"You git!" The other person hisses. "Stay quiet!"
Japan turns his head, and the simple movement drains whatever what was left of his energy. America appears in his vision, and there is worry in his blue eyes. "Japan?"
"A-America-san," he whispers. His throat burns. A pain like lightning strikes him, and he gasps from the pain. Pricks of pain, whether small or large, attacks him. "What happened?"
America stays quiet, and Japan watches in confusion as he grips the steel edge of the bed, knuckles turning white from the force. He turns to the other occupants of the room. Most of the nations, i.e. Germany, England, the Asian family, the Italy brothers, France, are gathered near and around his bed. All of their faces conveyed sorrow, compassion, and worry.
The television is on behind France, and Japan strains to hear what was going on.
"-Estimated death toll to be around 10,000-"
What?
"Japan," America says, but his attention was on the news.
"-On March 11 at 5:46 GMT, an 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit-"
Hit what? Japan sits, only vaguely aware of the pains racking his body and America and England's protests.
"-Tsunami hits the coast at 5:55 GMT-"
"What is that," Japan whispers, and begins to get out of his bed. Philippines reaches forward and pushes him back, and it is only the pain in her eyes that keeps him there.
"-Nuclear power plants... danger... explosion and meltdown. Approximately 850,000 homes in the north are without electricity-"
It hit him.
The dark, unforgiving waters arose in his vision. He could hear screaming, and remembered that it was his own. The cries and yells of his people... the rocking of the ground under his feet.
Japan gasps, and some nations, he didn't know who, reached out for him. But he was in another world. America and England's shouts fades into the background, joining the gray collage of the faces of the other nations.
Another world.
The memory.
Murky water.
Shuddering earth.
The collapse of buildings against others, homes washed out to sea. He could vaguely hear the scream that tore from a little girl's throat as her hand let go, and her mother joined the flood.
They came, faster and faster.
A little boy crying atop a roof, his older brother's arms around him. An old woman begging her husband to hang on. To wait for her. To wait for help. Two students drenched in mud and water, their faces on each other's shoulders. The image of a young man who had lost his wife and only son, kneeling at the edge of a roof, heartbroken sobs that no one heard sounding through the crashing of the waves.
The icy water rushing over his head, and he felt the pulls of the ocean tearing at him, taking him deeper and deeper into the darkness. Something was pulling him back, and a furious tug-of-war ensued.
He couldn't breathe. Through the water, he felt the vibrations and aftershocks of the earthquakes. Could hear the cries of his people.
His head broke above the water. Someone with blond hair and blue eyes with glasses appears in his vision, yelling something inaudible. He catches bits of words:
"England... Tsunami... Boss on the phone..."
And his world went as dark as the waters that raged upon him.
"Japan! DUDE! Snap out of it!" America shook Japan's shoulders. The aforesaid nation's head snapped up, and his hands gripped America's collar.
"J-Japan?" Italy whispered from the side.
The pain strikes him again, and he collapses onto the bed. The television is silent, then the reported says quietly, "Let us pray for the people of Japan."
One minute of silence engulfs the room. Japan closes his eyes. America turns the TV off. Something wet trickles down his cheek.
"Oh, Japan," China murmurs. His heart ached to see his brother in so much pain. China reaches out and brushes stray strands of hair from Japan's forehead, a soothing gesture from when they were younger. Inspired, Hong Kong and Korea mimics their older brother's movement, wiping away the sweat and hair away from Japan's forehead. Philippines tenderly takes his hands in her own and presses them against her forehead in a sign of respect. Taiwan and Vietnam gently rubs Japan's shoulders. Singapore and the other siblings follow suit. The Asian family consoles their brother.
Yet more tears betray Japan and flows down his cheeks. He hadn't let his guard down in so long. So long...
"We are here, Japan," England says a ways off. "America and France and I... we are here for you."
"We stand with you, Japan," Germany offers quietly, gesturing to Italy, Romano, and Russia. The three nations nod, and Japan sees the sincere honesty in their eyes.
Japan turns to his family. China, the eldest, speaks first.
"You are our brother," he says. "We are a family."
" But… Why?" Japan asks as the pain continues to take its toll. They must have found more bodies. "Why are you helping me?"
The nations exchange a look. One full of compassion and sincerity.
"You are one of us, Japan," America replies. "Besides, does the hero leave his allies in times of darkness? Heck no!"
"You're our brother," Vietnam says. "We stick together through thick and thin."
Japan looks deeply into their eyes. He sees no unhappiness nor indecision. No loss of hope or despair.
"Why do you look so strong?" He asks. "Why, even now, do you not show sorrow or fear?"
Italy smiles a smile great and full of light. "Because you are Japan."
Because you are Japan.
He looks more into his friends' and family's eyes.
America's show determination and eagerness.
England and France's shared a mutual respect and fortitude.
In Italy's, hope. Romano, a kindling of admiration.
Germany, a calm acceptance. In Russia, a strange, yet cool peace.
In his family's... the promise of a new day. The promise that all will be well when the sun rises once more.
"Look outside, my friend." America says. " It is a new day,"
Japan looks out the window. Through blurry eyes, he saw what was happening to his people.
A little girl running toward a tall man, shrieking "Papa! Papa!", arms outstretched. The man caught her and swung her in circles, crying joyful tears. An old woman with her husband, clasping each other's hands. A young man talking to two boys, adoption papers in his hands, tears of relief and elation streaming down the boys' faces. Two students with fresh clothes helping the rescue teams.
Japan sees the American rescue teams clearing off debris, helping up the citizens. English men and women passing out supplies. Russians flitting in and out of the crowd. More people of the other nations coming in to help.
"It's a new day," he echoes. America gives him a thumbs-up. Everyone smiles.
And off to the farthest point his vision allowed, he saw something that brought his heart up.
Because as the world turned the skies cleared, and the beautiful sun rose above the horizon.
Fin
I was hoping to deliver the message that, even though with all the devastation, Japan will rise once more, stronger than it was before.
I pray for the people of Japan.
God bless them.