wow my second Ameripan fanfiction- oh and it has more feels than the last one would you look at that! I guess it sort of ties to Cherry Blossom Tenshi, though you don't have to read this to understand that one, vice versa ... They both just have to do with WW2 ...

Like last time, the disclaimer is at the bottom. :D I hope you enjoy! Reviews are appreciated!

Sakura, Sakura

Why did it have to turn out like this? It had always been so happy; so cheerful between us. Whenever you saw me, you would say my name with such vivacious life and glee, that it always sent me stumbling backwards. Despite the fact that your features typically held lackluster, and your eyes were always so dull and pensive, they always lit up around me. You showed me a side of you no others have ever seen before. You showed me you have a heart. You showed me you know how to love just like the rest of us. When I first met you, I'd thought you were creepy, as childish as that term may be. You were a Hikikomori, a shut-in. Uninformed of the outside world; you knew nothing of proper socialization. You were barbaric, as far as I was concerned … But despite that, whenever I looked into those eyes of void melancholy, something in my chest would stir, and I found myself yearning for you.

And that feeling only strengthened when I got to know you better.

I don't know why you put up with me so much, Kiku. I was always very obnoxious and overly-excited. I still am. I forced you into signing a treaty with me, thus allowing Americans to fish in your seas and trade with your country. I forced you into doing it for me, and you complied without a single word of protest. In the beginning, I didn't know why it had occurred the way it had; I didn't know why you were so willing to obligate. And it wasn't until years later that I came to the conclusion: Was it, possibly, because you felt the same connection towards me, that I did towards you?

In the year of 1912, you gave me a bouquet of Cherry Blossoms … Sakura, as their called in your country. I remember it clearly. You were blushing like mad, thrusting the bouquet out towards me. You said it was proof of our friendship. You said it would mean the world to you, if I planted them. So I did, and in return, gave you American Beauty Roses … Roses that smelled so very sweet, and were so very alluring; just as you are. Flowers that are beautiful, but challenging to pick due to the thorns lurking on their stems. Just like … You. Is it quite possible that you believe, trying to act cool and closed off from everyone, is pushing them away? If that's the case you're a blind fool. Because it's only pulling me closer.

For years, since I'd met you, I found myself falling more and more in love with you. Falling in love with that awkward man, who didn't know how to properly talk to strangers. That man who was afraid to come out of his room. That man who opened himself up to me, and allowed me to show him what it's like to live. Be it from the look in your eyes, the sound of your voice, the time of your reactions; the way your words hit my ears, or how patient you are with me, I'm not sure. All I know is that, before I knew it, I was in love. You were absolutely everything I could think about; I dreamt about you at night, even! You were everything and anything to me. And I was happy … Happy that I was the only one who you allowed to break into your shell.

When World War I came along, we were on the same side. You helped me to defeat our enemies from taking over all of Europe; although it was for your own selfish desires, you still worked fervently against the enemy. Even though you merely wanted to take German land, you still fought on the side of justice, making you just that much more ideal in my eyes.

I was always the type of person to read comic books; the kind of person who idolizes those characters in costumes with powers; the type of person to desire the thrill of action, adventure, and romance … And you? Well, you were my superhero … For the longest time, you were my Superman.

Until that day.

Until the day you hurt me.

Until the day you broke your promise.

"Alfred-san … I give this to you … As a present."

"What for?"

"To show our friendship … Please, plant them. It would mean so much to me." An awkward pause,." I promise, Alfred-san, I will never hurt you …"Sincerity coated his voice, and my heart fluttered in my chest.

1912 was a year I thought sealed our relationship entirely.

…. I guess not.

Because when World War Two came … You betrayed me. On December 7, 1941, you bombed Pearl Harbor. You killed thousands of Americans, and for what? For territory? For land? For world domination? Did you truly desire to show everyone that, though you were small, you could achieve much if you truly desired? Have you always harbored so much evil within your body? Kiku tell me, what brought you to such treacherous ideals? You were always so sweet; so innocent; so perfect … When you smiled, you would smile for thousands, and when you laughed, angels would sing in my ears … When you cried, it would rain, and when you were in pain, the world was in pain. I'd always thought the World of you. You were the light of my life; the sparkle in my eyes … I thought we would always be friends; I thought we would possibly be more than that; I thought you cared about me; I thought I would never harbor ill-feelings.

But then …

Bang, bang …

Such an awful sound …

Bang, bang ...

My baby shot me down and stomped on my face.

You didn't even say goodbye.

You didn't take the time to lie …

It hurts me to do this Kiku, but I have to … I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me.

I hope I'll find it in my own … To forgive you.

A passage from Alfred F. Jones's diary

"Things didn't have to turn out this way ..." I whispered, my blue eyes shimmering with the excess moister of tears. "Why did you let them turn out this way?" I knew I was talking to myself; I seemed to talk to myself a lot. Especially in stressful situations such as this. Of course. Because I need someone who can empathize with me, to speak to ...

I gazed out of the window, listening as the loud hum of the plane engine drowned my voice into oblivion. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty; I didn't know what to expect. Something in my stomach twisted, and quite suddenly, I didn't want to do this. I couldn't do this. I couldn't hurt him like this ... I just couldn't. But ... He hurt me first ... He betrayed me ... It's only fair ... Right? I turned my melancholic gaze upon the pilot of this contraption, gazing at him as he so quietly scrutinized everything around him and ahead of him ... He appeared to be so terribly focused ... It was painful, to see it like this. I didn't want things to be like this. I didn't want to end up hurting that one special person, no matter how terribly he betrayed me. I just couldn't.

But I had to.

"Alfred-san?" Kiku looked at me, eyes pitiful and sad, yet held the evanescent gleam of jubilee. "Can I tell you something? Something important. But you must keep it a secret."

".. Sure, Keeks, anything ..."

He paused in hesitance, as if afraid to go on; I'm sure he was, actually. The silence between us droned on for the longest time, but I remained patient with him. I knew he didn't like talking about his feelings ... He would tell me when he was entirely ready. That didn't keep me from startling however, when he did speak.

"Alfred-san is the most important person to me."

"Dammit!" I howled, slamming my fist down on the side of the plane. Tears came to my eyes but I choked them back and squeezed my eyes shut. My chest ached, and I felt an empty chasm in my heart that seemed impossible to fill. "God dammit, Kiku!" My voice sounded strangled and stressed. Just like I knew it was. It was no surprise. I didn't have to look to know that the pilot had glanced back at me in surprise, and I didn't have to read minds to know that he felt sorry for me.

I took several deep breaths and opened my still-teary eyes; my glasses had fogged up, but I didn't take the time to clean them. I was too distraught to aid myself in any form. I didn't have the right.

Several minutes passed when I suddenly heard the low baritone of the pilot's voice; we had been flying for hours. I looked up. We were flying over Hiroshima. I knew, if I wanted to do this, I would have to do it now. But ... I didn't want to, I had to. For my people. No, not just them, but for everyone who died out there; everyone who suffered.

I stumbled up to the front, my hands and fingers trembling as I reached towards the remote that would drop the bomb. Little Boy, as it was so called, was anything but little. And he was ruthless. With a deep breath, my finger hovered over the switch, hesitant and unsure. Thousands of thoughts - outcomes - raged through my mind at this precise moment. I felt such a mix of conflict, that I wanted to throw up. Kiku ... I thought of his beautiful angelic face, smiling up at me. I thought of his joyous laugh, like the tinkling of bells. I thought of his quirks and mannerisms, that were so funny to watch. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to do this, but ...

Click.

With a flick on my thumb, the deed was done. We were just barely out of Hiroshima when it detonated. It was as if I could hear them screaming, even from so far away. Their voices echoed and reverberated through my skull like gunfire. I bit down hard on my lip. No, perhaps it wasn't the people's screams I was hearing, but one in particular. The one of a certain island nation, being torn to pieces. Kiku ... I love you! I hoped my last thoughts would somehow reach him.

... It was foolish of them not to have stopped after the first bombing.

Three days later, it happened again. The bombing of Nagasaki. August 9, 1945, we dropped Fat Man over the beautiful city of Nagasaki, and I heard it all over again. For me, that date seemed like a lifetime to wait. For Kiku, I'm sure it seemed like mere seconds. I couldn't even begin to imagine the terrible, terrible pain he was in. I didn't want to. I turned my head from the window of the plane, tears rolling down my cheeks which I rubbed at angrily. Why did things have to turn out so terribly between us?

"No, Kiku, you can't move your piece there! You can only move it diagonally like this, and only backwards when you've been Kinged!"

"S-Sumimasen, Alfred-san ... How do I know I've been "kinged" again?"

"Haven't I told you already? Your piece reaches the end of the board on my side, and then has another piece put on top of it. Then it can go back and forth as it pleases! ... Your move."

"Wh-Why did you take mine?!"

I smiled at his foolishness. "Because I jumped your piece, Kiku. It's mine now." He openly pouted, his brows furrowed in confusion. I laughed.

Just like that time, which brought me such a fond, fond feeling, I laughed. But this time, that laugh was painful.

Several months had passed. I hadn't seen Kiku in such a long, long time. What would he look like? Would he be the same old Kiku I used to know? Would he be my beautiful Chrysanthemum again, instead of my Black terror? Would he hate me?

I took several hours to locate my old friend. And when I did, I came to find out he was in the same spot he was in when he was bombed, both times. Bodies upon bodies, scattered around the room, either dead, or crying out in pure agony. I couldn't look at them, didn't even want to smell them. It was odious and putrid ... I did this ...

I merely focused my eyes on the delicate fawn clad all in black. Lying face-down, I was at first afraid he was dead. But that was silly of me, wasn't it? It takes far much more to kill a country, than just a couple of bombs. Despite my common sense, I was still holding in my breath, preparing for the absolute worst. But then, his body twitched, and I released that puff of air from my mouth, relief washing over me like a tidal wave does to the shore of a beach. He moved his head, a cry of agony - one he was likely unconscious of - slipping past his lips and making my heart jerk in its chambers.

His dark eyes fell upon my form, and I reeled back. His face was scarred and burned, boiling, almost, and bloody. He looked nothing like the Kiku I remembered; he looked hideous, gruesome ... But that was only because I made him that way. I had no right to be thinking such things about him.

I knew he was confused; it was blatant on his features. His eyes were dull and lifeless, yet they held pain. I could only imagine ... I stood idly in front of the raven-haired island, extending my hand out towards him. He startled and flinched slightly, only slightly. I force a watery smile onto my face.

"Alfred-san ..." He whispered, voice hard and cracked; his mouth must have been dry. If he'd been here for so long without anyone finding him ... I winced openly. "Why are you in here?" His voice, stricken with utmost grief asked in disbelief, and his brown melancholic eyes - eyes that never betrayed even the slightest emotion - appeared stricken with despair; his own forlorn. His lips were cracked and chapped, I noticed/.

Taking a deep breath I parted my lips. God, it even hurt to speak to him. "... I'm here because you need me to be." I watch as he reaches forward and takes my hand, likely suppressing another shriek of agony. I lift him into my arms, cradling the body with care. He looked so small; so helpless. His clothing had been torn, and blood and puss oozed from open wounds on his chest, mixing together and simply adding to the stale, putrid air. As I brought him closer to my face, I could smell the burning flesh, and even as he was brought into the air, dead skin flaked off of his face and fluttered to the ground. His hair too, was beginning to fall out, I noticed. What have I done to you ...?

He looked into my eyes. "Why are you helping me …" It wasn't a question. "After I've hurt you, and everyone else so much … Why help me now … Alfred-san."

"Because!" I burst before I can stop myself. He openly flinched at the loud exclamation, and looked up at me with pitiful brown eyes. He looked beaten; worn-down ... Old ... "You're my friend … And friends have to stick together! 'Till the end!"

I could tell he didn't know what to make of this, initially, because he was silent. He gazed up at me with wide eyes, and I knew even such a simple alteration of the facial features hurt him. I could see the pain in his eyes, roaring like a blaze. "Friends …" He finally mumbled, after minutes of silence. "We're … Friends …" The black-haired male echoed, tears slipping past his eyes. "Hai … I'm so sorry … Alfred-san …"

"I know, Keeks … I know. Me too. You have no idea …" I desperately hoped he could hear the sincerity in my voice.

By his expression, I can tell he did.

"Thank you …"

I looked down at him with pure fondness, turning with him in my arms. My men were standing in the doorway, absolutely dumbstruck. I snapped a few orders at them, fuming because they hadn't the audacity to come and check on my friend with me. My friend, who was hanging limply in my arms, his katana long-forgotten on the floor. They scattered. Some went to prepare the helicopter once more, others went off in a search for water, and something to eat. I strode towards the door, and as I reached the entrance, I stopped walking and looked down at him once more, with a life that hadn't been in my eyes for a long time.

"Any time, Keeks." I smiled my trademark smile, my glasses glinting in the light.

That smile of mine must have been contagious, I'm sure. Because he too, smiled back at me, a genuine laugh passing by his blood-stained lips.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. All right to it belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.