Battle of Iwo Jima

Summary: The day Japan realized that America deserved to be given the honorific, -san. Iwo Jima centric. One-shot.


"I'm going to find you, Japan. It's useless to hide. You know you aren't going to win." His voice was proud and strong- he didn't have to be shouting to be loud. Japan stayed hidden in his room below ground, but he could see the blond standing with a gun in his arms, looking around, trying to avoid the pain of getting shot, hit by a mortar, or some other weapon of war. "My people are strong," he spoke with confidence. "My marines are some of the toughest people I know. They are going to win this battle, and then this war."

Japan said nothing as he aimed at the young nation, but he suddenly saw America jumping out of the way of his gun before he could shoot as another marine was screaming something unintelligible to his fellow nation. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Was the only thing he understood. Japan didn't have any time to think about what America was doing that for as he suddenly found himself in unbearable pain as he and his team were blasted out of their hiding place. It had been a grenade, he realized, all too late to do anything about it. Those men had died in vain, he thought, before harshly reminding himself that, no, they did not die in vain, they died for the sake of their country, for their Emperor- for the supposed God on Earth.

And then Japan found the younger nation standing above him, expression unforgiving. "Hello there, Japan." He spoke coldly, and the Axis power shivered at the force behind the quiet words. He had never seen the younger nation in such a fury- in fact, he had never thought the boy even could be serious. Now it was too late for asking for forgiveness, nor would he, as it was against his Morales and principles, but he had seen behind the mask of the nation, and America-kun was no longer an option for a name. It didn't fit with this image of a person so strong, of a nation so mighty he had the power to crush them all, and he couldn't liken the man in front of him with America-kun. But he couldn't make this man his equal, he was still younger, still inexperienced, still America-kun, through and through, despite the fact they were on opposing sides of a battle, of a war to end all wars.

He heard the joyful cries of American troops, and both Nations looked up to see an American flag being flown on the Japanese island. America smiled bitterly at the sight of the six men who had set it up cheered loudly at the sight of the red, white, and blue flag flying proudly on his soil. It made Japan sick to his stomach that the soldiers had done that without his noticing. Then again, he was pretty distracted at this point in time...with all the fighting going on around him, with all of his people dying, it made sense that he was having trouble keeping up with everything.

"I know your men. I know you. You are going to kill those men- or try to. You will kill many, many of my people. You already have, Japan." He paused, and Japan noticed that America's voice was harsh, angry, but it was also firm with determination, a certain trait that made Japan fear for his life and for his people and his strength in the war. The ending was soft though, and he saw hurt in America's eyes, flashing for only a moment, before it was gone, blue eyes cold with determination once more.

"But, they will keep fighting. Until this base is mine. Just like that flag up there is still flying, my people are still fighting. Just like when the Star-Spangled Banner was first written- That flag shows that my people are going to win, that they have already won." America's blue eyes flashed, looking more determined than ever, like he was proud of his people and his country, and he should be. They had proven themselves time and time again in battle against the Japanese forces.

Despite his growing, grudging respect for America, Japan growled at the nation, and at the same time he noticed that American troops were closing in on him. America held an arm out, demanding the attention of his soldiers. "He's different men. Keep on fighting, leave him to me…." The marines listened, loyal soldiers they were, to their nation and their better. Japan almost admired their tenacity and determination…almost. The soldiers left, and America picked the Japanese Nation up, jolting him with his sheer strength from his ground on the island of ash and sulfur.

Japan could do nothing to oppose any of that manhandling. He could only let America carry him to wherever they were headed, becoming practically limp in the Americans arms, making sure that he was not making anything easier on the nation. It was the only thing he could do at this point in time to fight back.

"What are you doing?" An angry American voice called out, surprising Japan, and he saw that it was a Red Cross nurse, whose uniform was bloody and covered in ash. "We aren't taking prisoners of war- even if they would stop killing themselves before we could stop them! Our boys need to come first!" She argued fiercely, and Japan was almost amused with the younger woman arguing with her far older nation like he was the child. It reminded him once more of how America-kun had acted towards him before the war.

"He's not a POW." America said calmly, glaring at her. "For one, he's different. He's like me. And two, both you and I know that the Japanese would rather die than surrender." With that, the woman stopped talking, glaring darkly at the dirt and blood covered nation, before she sighed loudly, sounding heavy and annoyed.

"I'm not going to be able to argue, am I?" She asked, her voice giving away that she was exasperated with the nation, and she had good reason to be. The nation was forceful as ever, Japan noted, he was simply using all that extra energy in a different way. It both awed him and frightened him. How was it that he managed to seem so... childish... before Japan had seen him in war? It was another mystery to be added about the strangeness of Western Nations.

"Nope," America confirmed, nodding as he did so, "Just help him." The blond nation set his Japanese companion down surprisingly gently, since they were, in fact, enemies. It made Japan wonder once again if spreading such horrible propaganda among his people was right. He and his leaders told his people that the Allied Forces were monsters, and nothing but, however, America was always proving those to be wrong. From the simplest things, like helping one of Japans youngest citizens, a five-year old girl who was told to surrender by an elderly couple because she shouldn't die in the war, by feeding her and clothing her, to the big things, like trying to the best he could to keep away from citizens in his fighting.

With no more argument, the woman quickly and expertly closed what little wounds he had yet to heal because of the extent of them. Japan felt so much better only seconds after she began fixing him up, and he was tempted to sigh with relief, but he noticed that America was sitting on the bed across from him, and he kept his sounds to himself.

"Kiku," America started, using his human alias so as to not arouse suspicion, and Japan gave the younger nation his full attention as the boy was speaking in the language they all shared, the Native language that they used to communicate with the younger Nations after they appeared. "I want you to know that this war is going to end soon."

Japan glared at the younger nation, not bothering to give him a response even though he was probably right. He didn't want to believe that, but he knew that the words his General had said rung true- they would not be able to win against America if they fought for more than a few months. This war had gone on for years. America sighed, blue eyes conflicted. He had something important to tell him, but wasn't allowed to say it. It intrigued him, that America was being so uncommonly serious to him, on a battlefield. Usually, when he was around his allies, he was as loud and annoying as ever. "China! I choose you!" He had called out in their time on the island, shipwrecked together.

"….I want you to know that I'll be the one who will hurt you the most." He admitted, freely, blue eyes sad. "Matthew and Arthur will undoubtedly help me, but I know I will hurt you the most." America sighed, and Japan absently wondered who Matthew was, but knew that Arthur was England. And America was right. England was definitely warming up to the American Nation, every time Japan saw the two of them together was a sight that showed England was starting to feel something other than brotherly love... But, he thought absent-mindedly, England was rather like a Tsundere...

"But, I also know, that once all of…." He made a gesture around him, to the dead and the dying troops that surrounded them. "This. Is over…." Another sigh came from the young nation, blue eyes looking deep into his own black eyes, completely sincere. "I'll be the first one to help you. A nation does not need to be cruel to be strong."

America stood up, and Japan soon followed his example, looking at the nation straight in the eyes, black meeting blue, as the latter softened dramatically, and black hardened as he prepared for an ultimatum. But an ultimatum he did not receive.

"This is a dying battle." America stated softly. "Get out while you have the chance. It's not going to end pretty for your people." With that said, the blond nation stormed out of the tent to rejoin his men, his marines. Japan knew that. His people, even possibly one of his greatest commanders, were going to all die here, on this cursed island. The orders were to kill at least ten American soldiers before one was killed, and then America might be discouraged enough from the losses to give up against Japan.

But America only looked more determined. Japan's boss had another thing coming, because America wasn't going to stop, no matter the cost. They had not calculated something. America's belief that the freedom of the individual was set above everything else. That belief wouldn't die, not even if they lost the battle, they would win the war because of that belief. The Japanese people were fighting for a person, and that want to fight was dying, even if the emperor was a God on Earth, that belief would die with Hirohito.

It was then Japan saw it. America may be younger than him, but he seemed to excel at battling, planning, and attacking, he had determination that Japan envied. But he also had the higher moral ground. He promised he would hold no grudge. He didn't spite Japan, just gave him a warning, a promise, and left. He was fighting for his cherished beliefs above everything else.

"America-kun isn't befitting of you anymore, is it?" The Japanese nation pondered quietly as he was leaving the island, trying desperately to ignore his peoples cries for help. Death was the greatest honor in war, he tried to convince himself, and failed. "You have earned my respect. You are truly a great nation, a giant among us all….Alright then….I guess I just have to face this war head on so that doesn't come true…." Japan smiled knowingly as he paused, preparing to disappear into the smoke and reappear on his mainland.

"Because wouldn't you do the same, America-san…?"


A/N: February 19th is the anniversary of that battle of Iwo Jima, one of the worse battles in WWII. Almost 7,000 marines died in that single battle, and almost all of the Japanese soldiers died as well.

Historians have described U.S. forces' attack against the Japanese defense as "throwing human flesh against reinforced concrete."

Shortly before 2am on Feb. 19, 1945, the Navy's big guns opened up on Iwo Jima again. After an hour of punishment, the fire was lifted, leaving Iwo smoking as if the entire island were on fire. Both Americans aboard their transports and the Japanese in their caves looked to the skies now. One-hundred-ten bombers screamed out of the sky to drop more bombs. After the planes left, the big guns of the Navy opened up again. At 8:30am, the order, "Land the Landing Force," sent the first wave of Marines towards the deadly shores. Once ashore, the Marines were bedeviled by the loose volcanic ash. Unable to dig foxholes, they were sitting ducks for the hidden Japanese gunners. Heavy fire made it impossible to land men in an orderly manner. Confusion reigned on the beaches. The battle was unique in its setting. One hundred thousand men fighting on a tiny island one-third the size of Manhattan. For 36 days Iwo Jima was one of the most populated 7.5 miles on earth.

General Kuribayashi, the Japanese Commander of Iwo Jima, was brilliant. His preparations, fortifications and strategy were marvels in the history of warfare. The Japanese strategy was unique for three reasons:

1) The Japanese didn't fight above ground. They fought the battle entirely from beneath the ground. They dug 1,500 rooms into the rock. These were connected with 16 miles of tunnels.
2) Japanese strategy called for "no Japanese survivors." They planned not to survive.
3) Japanese strategy was for each soldier to kill 10 Americans before they themselves are killed.

In Tokyo months before the invasion, General Kuribayashi had been told "if America's casualties are high enough, Washington will think twice before launching another invasion against Japanese territory." The Japanese strategy of "no Japanese survivors" is heroic Japanese stance is commonly glorified in Japanese historical novels, classic books, plays and movies. It touches at the heart of the Japanese sense of sacrifice of the individual for the greater good. "You must not expect my survival," General Kuribayashi wrote to his wife long before the invasion came. General Kuribayashi's command center had 5 ft. thick walls, a 10 ft. thick roof. This cement capsule was under 75 ft. of solid rock. The battle was won by the inch-by-inch tenacity of the foot soldier, and liquid gas, napalm and hand grenades were more useful against the underground Japanese.

Before you ask, yes, nurses did in fact get to shore of the Island, a few very brave woman and men who went back and forth with American boys.

There are six Flag Raisers on the famous Iwo Jima photo. Four in the front line and two in back. The front four are (left to right) Ira Hayes, Franklin Sousley, John Bradley and Harlon Block. The back two are Michael Strank (behind Sousley) and Rene Gagnon (behind Bradley). Strank, Block and Sousley would die shortly afterwards. Bradley, Hayes and Gagnon became national heroes within weeks. Look up the photo, it's awesome. It's also a monument in DC.

Strank is the only non-American borne in the photo. He was born in Czechoslovakia in 1919. The others, in order, were born in Arizona, Kentucky, Wisconsin, Texas, and New Hampshire. You know, it's one of those moments when you're singing "I'M PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN! WHERE AT LEAST I KNOW I'M FREE! AND I WON'T FORGET THE MEN WHO DIED, TO GIVE THAT RIGHT TO ME!"

Now then. Review because I love all of you.