"Aiyah." China closed the windows before the wind could blow the rain inside. He sat back down, returning to the scroll he had been looking at. It was foolish of him. He wished he wasn't this sentimental. But this year, like every year, on December 13th, he found himself going through his things, looking for the past. And he had found it in this scroll. He traced the shaky ink lines with his fingers. "You practiced so hard..." The shaky lines became steadier as Japan's little hands had become accustomed to the brush. Soon, he was writing things which weren't Chinese at all.

Where had he gone wrong? He could see why Korea had turned out like he did, and Hong Kong, and even Taiwan. But Japan? He grew up so quickly, and kept so much distance between himself and others. And he was stubborn. China smiled to himself. Yes, he was stubborn. A mind of his own. But that didn't explain why, of all of them, Japan had turned against his family. Somewhere along the line, he had become the black sheep. But why?

China flinched as another phantom pain hit him. It always happened on this day, as if to make sure he remembered what had happened so many years ago. Oh, he remembered. He would never forget the bloodbath.

Did Japan remember it? No matter how many times China confronted him, he kept denying it. He denied the murders, the tortures, everything. So, eventually, China had stopped asking.

He wondered if he could bring little Japan back to the surface, or if that part was lost forever. He missed chasing the little boy around the house when he didn't want to go to bed yet. He loved watching Japan enjoy his tea, little hands clasped around the cup. He loved drawing with him and reading him stories. He loved him. Little Japan. Not the cold being he had turned into, with more walls around him than he could uphold. He knew that deep down, Japan was sweet and caring. Then, how? Why?

There was a knock at the door. China sighed and stood up, another phantom pain hitting him. He opened the door, only to find a drenched person, partly obscured by a large bouquet. "Can I help you?"

A face appeared from behind the flowers.

"Japan?"

"Take it." He held out the bouquet.

China accepted it, frowning. "Why are you here?" Did he honestly not know what day it was?

Japan looked at him from under his soaked bangs. "I can't stand it anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

He bowed as deep as he could. "Gomennasai!"

China stared at him in surprise. "What for?"

"My government may deny it, but I know what I've done to you. And I can't keep pretending like nothing happened. For Nanking, for everything, gomennasai!"

"Kiku..." He placed a hand on Japan's head. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Japan looked up. "It's not enough, though. I didn't come here with the intention of being forgiven so easily."

"And I'm not forgiving you yet. But it's a start."

Japan straightened himself. "Ja, that was all. Goodbye." He turned around and walked away.

"Wait! It's pouring, why don't you come inside for a cup of tea?"

He stopped and looked around. And there China saw the little boy again. "That… I'd like that."

"Well then, come in!"

Japan slowly walked back, his eyes towards the ground. China tucked the other's hair behind his ears, like he had done so often in the past. "This is no weather to be traveling in. Come on, let's put some dry clothes on you."

Japan nodded shyly and stepped inside. China smiled. His pains were gone.