Japan knelt before the boy, staring out at the trees that swayed in the breeze; a cool and welcome summer wind swept around them.
"You're Japan," the little boy said sharply, unflinchingly. A smile tugged at the corner of Japan's mouth. He was small and monkey-ish. Japan had been sent to claim the boy, who was to become a monk—a most ill-fitting role for the little monkey, if Japan were honest with himself.
"There is no Japan," Japan said. His body ached. He'd sought refuge at a nearby temple as his land and people tore each other apart. He worried that his time was at an end—this Japan-where-the-sun-rises. "My name is Kiku." A name that he had taken only recently, within the last two hundred years.
"You're Japan," the little monkey insisted. "You can't fool me."
"You'll need to temper that tongue at the monastery," Japan said, suddenly uncomfortable. "Come; it's time to go."
"I won't," the little monkey insisted. "I told him I won't go, and he can't make me!"
Japan sighed, staggering to his feet. "Accompany me back. My old bones need the assistance."
The little monkey's eyes narrowed at him.
"Hiyoshimaru,"(1) Japan said sharply, and the boy reluctantly got to his feet and supported Japan's arm. "Thank you," Japan said graciously. His joints throbbed, and he leaned heavily on the little monkey and his walking stick as they went.
"Are you dying, Japan?" the monkey asked. Japan sighed.
"All things die and are reborn," Japan said. Even countries,he did not say.
The little monkey went silent and contemplative—his brow was furrowed, wrinkling his forehead. It only increased his resemblance to a monkey. Japan looked away and watched the dirt path that extended before him. There was a battle taking place at that very moment—his left elbow stung as though pierced by an arrow.
"No," the little monkey said, gripping Japan's arm. The pain spiked and then faded. Japan looked at the boy with new eyes, keeping his face carefully blank. "That's giving up," the boy said bitterly. "I'm going to do things. I'm not going to be a monk, and I'm not going to lay down and die just because that's what other people do."
"You'll need a sharper tongue than that if you want to last," Japan said, looking back out at the road. "As a wise person knows, iwanu ga hana." (2)
"I know," the boy said, gripping Japan's arm. The pain in his right ankle sharpened, then eased. There was something fierce and determined in the boy's gaze.
"Walk me halfway to the temple," Japan said, his tone unchanging. "The sunshine and fresh air are easing the pain in my old bones considerably."
The little monkey look up at him, meeting Japan's gaze, and Japan knew that he understood Japan's intent perfectly—Japan was releasing him to have his adventure.
"All right, old man Japan," the little monkey said, his eyes serious and calculating. "But don't you roll over and die on me before we finish."
(1) Hiyoshimaru was the name that Toyotomi Hideyoshi was given at birth.
(2) 險\わぬが闃ｱ : An expression that literally means, "Not speaking is a/the flower." Generally, it means that it's better not to open your mouth and speak clearly, or that silence is golden.
((I imagine little Hiyoshimaru being bold and a bit rough around the edges until he gets a bit more experience working with and manipulating adults, but not much is known about him or his childhood, except that he was supposed to go to a temple to study and instead ran away to have an adventure of sorts. I like him.))