Drabble 1 of a lot :3

I tried not to be too mysterious with the plot and what not. And yeah. I don't own anything but a few headcanons here and there.

Also, in this one, there is no "aru" or cute dorky accents because they're talking in their native language.

Enjoy :)

"Yao... Where have you been?"

The question hung in the air, not needing to go any further explaining it than he already had. It was a simple question that needed a simple answer, and it was clear by the glare in Kiku's eyes that he was not happy with him. The younger nation rarely got angry, but when he did, it was like a fire, blazing and surrounding you and embedding burn marks into your skin each time you moved towards it to escape. Yao had seen it, more when he was younger and more war-crazy. Ever since 1945, however, he hadn't seen a single bit of anger flood from him.

"I was busy," Yao replied, already regretting the reaction he'll receive to such a frivolous answer.

"Busy?" Kiku, in a light blue, almost periwinkle, yukata he wore, crossed his arms and stood straighter. It was a habit that he had had since he was a child; it used to mean that he was trying to act tough to whoever was older or taller than he was. Nowadays, it often meant that he was not happy, and if he was taking it serious, then the same applied to you.

"It's a long story, Kiku. It is difficult to explain."

"I'm sure you can tell me. You can tell me anything now, shì?"

Yao sighed, looking away guiltily. He had only been with Kiku until 1949, before Ivan found and took him away, unbeknownst to the still very weak island. The last they saw each other was the signing of the NPT, and even then, they hardly saw each other besides the signing, and now, 1972, five years after they had last seen one another without any other nations with them, whether it was Alfred or Arthur or Ivan or Ludwig. The older nation could clearly see the hurt evident on Kiku's face, but he refused to focus on it- for the moment.

"When I woke up 1949, 29th of August, you were nowhere in my home, and you were not on my land. You left me. Four years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki and you left me to recover on my own." Kiku paused, probably to let the other put in his input, but Yao had nothing to say in return. "There was no note, no belongings of yours, no remnants that you had even been in my house. If I had known I wouldn't have seen you until nineteen years later, I would not have been angry, but because there was no warning, I am disgusted."

"Kiku, let me-"

"Iie!" Kiku stepped closer so that their noses touched, chocolate burning into gold with a fury that he hadn't witnessed in a long time. "You were not attacked by atomic weapons that burned you and could have killed you! I am still suffering from my wounds and it is 1972! The only help I had was from Asa and Arufureddo, but I did not want the occasional assistance that they gave me. I wanted you by my side, I wanted you to help me, I wanted you to fix my wounds...I wanted you to fix me! I did not want to live anymore if I knew that two cities would forever be marred by this horror, that they would forever be damaged and that they would never be the same again. I tried to end my life, even though I knew it would never happen; I wanted to see if I could pass out and never wake up from the dreaded nightmare that I was living, because I did not have you by my side-"

Yao didn't know when he had the strength or audacity, and he thought that he had only imagined the idea, but the resounding smack of palm to cheek was evidence enough that he had slapped him.

"Don't you ever hurt yourself, Kiku," Yao whispered. He could see the shock and alarm that Kiku had for the action. Neither of them had wanted it, neither of them expected it, but it had occurred, and they had to deal with the repercussions now. "If you try, it will only bring you pain. It will only add onto the pain that you have." He took the younger's hands in his, running his fingers over the bandages. As he pushed up the unusually long sleeves- yukata sleeves for males were smaller- he could see more scars. Kiku tried to pull them back, but Yao turned his own arms so that Kiku was feeling his own self-harm. "I have done it too. It is not fun. It hurts. It is not what you want to deal with. We are nations, Kiku; we live by our people. And no matter how hard we try to want it to be different, things will never be like that for us... So...we must try and drive away the pain from the help of those that are around us, and are there for us and understand us because there is no one who understands a nation better than another nation."

"Yao..."

They might not have been on the same page as Japan and China, and they might not ever be after Nanking and their dark history afterwards, but underneath the Japanese cherry blossoms, with their hands holding his wounds and their tears following similar paths and their arms entwining him into a warm embrace of tea and rice and bamboo, with their words whispering apologies that were soft in volume yet strong in meaning, they knew that, as Kiku and Yao, as devoted friends, as lovers, as companions, they would definitely, eventually, soon, be alright.