Yao has far too many pets, Kiku thinks to himself for the umpteenth time.
Two of Yao's five dogs chase each other in the shed behind the living room, while several of the hundred or so cats that roam Yao's quarters are twining around Kiku's short ankles. Behind the child-nation's head, a rooster perches, as Yao's pet monkey sits at his stool in the kitchen, turning on and turning off the taps repetitively.
Yao has a hundred cats in his house because he's afraid of them disappearing forever if he lets them outside, or gives them away. They, of course, have kept breeding, and although Yao has recently been forced to become an expert of sorts at neutering the boys, the house population has just about reached critical mass.
Most impressive, however, is the structure outside.
"Yao," Kiku calls. "Where do you keep the fish food again?"
The gigantic fish pond holds an impressive amount of fat, tame goldfish, all unique, all diverse, as well as many beautiful lotus plants. The fish are gentle enough to eat off one's hands. The goldfish pond is the lovely centerpiece of Yao's sprawling gardens, and currently Kiku's favorite place to visit in the whole world.
Instead of explicitly telling him, Yao directly hands Kiku the box of food. "Give them five grams of this each day. Be sure to put the cover on the pond when you are done. Otherwise the raccoons will come in the middle of the night and eat every last one of them!"
Kiku purses his lips as he tries not to retort that Yao had just reminded him to put the cover on about ten minutes ago.
After handing him the box, Yao goes back upstairs and finishes packing his suitcases. He drags them down and leaves them at the door. Kiku watches impassively.
When Yao's ride arrives, the Chinese man kisses the top of Kiku's small, silky head.
"Be sure to feed the dogs in the evening; they're not allowed people-food during the day at all, or else there'll be accidents in the house. You know how to feed and clean up after the cats. And play often with Xiao peng-peng, he's like my other little brother besides you."
Kiku has to smile at that.
"I'll only be gone a few days. The summit will probably not run past schedule, and you can contact Viet if you need anything… oh, and di-di, be sure to put the cover on the fish pond at n—"
"At night so that raccoons don't get in. Good-bye, ge-ge."
The large, beady eyes of one particularly huge goldfish stare at the young Japanese nation's face.
"You can't beat me in a staring contest," Kiku teases it, but it ducks beneath the surface a moment later. He drops some crumbs in, and they disappear in a matter of seconds. Sighing, Kiku turns his heel and goes to feed the chickens.
Kiku remembers very diligently the first night to put the cover on the pond before retiring for the night. The second, third, and fourth night, he puts the cover on as instructed.
But by the fifth and last night before Yao is to return home, he inexplicably completely forgets.
By morning, not a single bone is left. And the local fish store has only goldfish guppies. Kiku breaks out in a cold sweat as he realizes he will never get away with this.
Didn't Yao remind him an infinite amount of times? How on earth did it slip his mind to put the cover on?
When Yao walks in the entrance, he immediately envelopes Kiku in a hug and carries him as they walk throughout the quarters. The house is swept clean, the dogs are snoozing, the cats are all accounted for, and the chickens are in their roost. Even the monkey is taking a nap.
But the pond is empty. Yao immediately sets his brother on the ground as he runs to the edge. "Kiku, *what*—"
"I'm sorry, Yao-ge," Kiku mumbles, looking at the grass under his feet. "They all up and… all of a sudden on the last day… they all died."
Yao is speechless for a moment and Kiku feels at the verge of tears. The Chinese nation slowly opens his mouth.
"Oh my God… this has happened before."
Kiku lifts his head up sharply, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
"Two years ago I had a whole pond of goldfish. One day they suddenly all got ill and died all at once! I can't believe it! That water must have some killer bacterial strain!"
"Wh…what?"
"I have to call Viet. She didn't believe me last time, she said I was crazy. Now she'll finally see—"
Kiku interrupts, feeling slightly faint. "But Yao-ge, I have good news. I bought you two new fish, one male and one female, to start a new pond."
Yao glances down as Kiku pushes a small bag in his hand, wherein two tiny guppies, one gold and one black, are swimming peacefully. He watches them nibbling at each other, and breaks into a sweet smile. "Thank you, di-di. I'll drain the pond and when I refill it, we'll put them in right away."
Kiku smiles too, despite the slight nagging feeling in his chest. He points at the gold one, then at the black one. "Can we name them after us? Can their names be 'Yao and Kiku?'"
many years later
"And that one's Xiang Gang, that big white one is Yong-Soo, and the little blue one I named—"
"Wan."
"Yes."
"What about all the others?"
"They can represent all the peoples of Asia. Too many to give individual names."
Yao and Kiku are sitting by the banks of the algae-covered fish pond, finishing up a picnic.
"Still naming your pets," Kiku smiles, taking another bite of rice cake. "You've never grown up."
"Yes I have," Yao says, and the pain in his voice is painful to hear.
After packing up leftovers, they take a quick walk in the gardens, and Yao invites Kiku up for tea. They relive more childhood memories over a hot stove, and later, side-by-side on Yao's small couch.
"Kiku."
"Mmm?" Kiku's face is buried in Yao's hair, and he is sucking on a strand of it.
"Nothing. I like it when you visit."
"I am sorry that I haven't been able to do it often." Kiku shifts his position. "I heard about you and Ivan. Are you alright?"
"Thank you. It's alright."
Yao's eyes are limpid and Kiku literally feels lost in them; the man's eyes really are that gold. Not possible. "I know I did the right thing," Yao is saying, "and it hurts."
He twists and looks at his younger brother. "What do you do to get over the pain?"
Kiku blinks, and his lips suddenly curve into a slow smile. "I wouldn't know. I have never cried over a breakup."
Yao is startled. "Never? Not once?"
"Never."
As Yao buries his face in his hands, Kiku comes to a sudden understanding that the two of them are more different than he'd previously considered. That when Yao lost a loved one, that was the end of the world for him, because when he was attached to somebody he didn't know how to let go.
And, Yao, on the other hand, feels a pang of guilt as he remembers that when he had met Kiku for the very first time, he had not quite known what to make of the shy little boy, and even now—he is still sometimes unsure whether he fully trusts him. Kiku's ambivalence towards his past relationships must be indicative that Yao had not showered Kiku with as much kindness and attention as he should have when the young nation was growing up. The realization makes Yao instantly ashamed. He kneels and sits beside Kiku, winds an arm around his shoulders.
Fifteen minutes later, Kiku starts undressing him. Yao looks at him in surprise. "I thought—"
Kiku interrupts him, "It's too late." He strokes Yao's cheek. "Don't deny it. Don't lie to yourself."
Kiku presses his mouth against Yao's again, and Yao feels himself surrendering without having really fought in the first place.
Kiku's touch is not at all like Ivan's touch; his eyes are dark as the sea at night, not at all like the exotic violet eyes that soften when they fall upon Yao. Kiku's lips on his skin speak to him more vividly than any song or sonata could have ever reached his senses.
And then, suddenly, when his feelings are most intense, Yao is startled by a sudden pain in his chest. He makes a soft, inadvertent cry. Kiku does not take note of it, or misunderstands if he had. But the pain elevates, and elevates; spreading waves of fire throughout Yao's body.
Surely this is not normal, Yao thinks, terrified. Surely this can't be…
"No!" Half-naked, covered in sweat, he pushes the Japanese away.
Kiku looks horrified, as though he can't believe what is happening. "What is it?"
Yao turns sharply, clutching at his fallen shirt; stumbling, he falls from the bed onto the floor. "Yao!" Kiku calls out as Yao climbs to his feet and breaks into a run. The Japanese man catches him right at the door.
"No!"
"Yao—"
"No! I can't—!"
"Wh-what?" Kiku's mind reels. "Yao, listen to me," he pleads. "Yao—"
"Let me go!"
Kiku clutches Yao so hard from behind that Yao stops struggling and, as suddenly as he'd put up a fight, melts limply into Kiku's arms as the agonizing chest pains slowly begin to subside. They stand together by the wall, until Kiku breaks the silence. "Yao, I only meant to love you," Kiku starts in a strange voice.
"Ivan…"
Kiku is speechless. When he regains his voice, it practically resonates death. "You associate with the wrong people too often, Yao. You should listen to me from time to time."
Yao stares at him before replying, "I think you should leave, Kiku."
The response shocks the other man. And then, such a look flits across Kiku's face that the blood further drains from Yao's face, and he has to sit down. Yao takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling light-headed; his eyes automatically drop to the floor. He clutches his temple.
When the moment of vertigo has passed, Yao says in a much softer tone, "Kiku," only it comes out as a weak sigh. When he lifts his head, he finds himself staring into an empty room.