Aderthad
A/N: Hey, look, I'm finally posting something! :P We were learning about Chinese reunification with Hong Kong at school and of course I had to write something.
This is not slash.
"On July 1, 1997, at exactly twelve o'clock midnight, the ceremony for the transfer of sovereignty over Hong Kong officially came to an end. After one hundred and fifty years of English control, Hong Kong finally returned to the embrace of the motherland." (1)
The streets of Beijing are loud and crowded, masses of people threading their way home as cars and city buses move sluggishly along. Hong Kong picks nervously at the starched cuffs of the formal suit England had insisted he wear, and sidesteps someone's white poodle trotting along. He has a dim, hazy memory of sunlight filtering through the dust kicked up from dirt roads by horse-drawn carts, and wonders briefly how much else has changed since the last time he was here.
England—no, Arthur, Sterling thinks, as he watches the blond man's hands clench into fists at his sides and unclench, repeatedly—is silent beside him, lips pressed into a tight line, thick brows almost throwing glittering green eyes into shadow. The people around them glance at this foreigner curiously, but for the most part no one really gives him a second glance, though Sterling catches some hostility lurking in dark eyes.
The hot July sun beats down on them as England leads him through the winding streets and hails a taxi—there's the thought that Arthur shouldn't know Beijing better than I do, and Sterling feels a slight pang of discomfort, something twisting in his stomach. There's a flutter of anxiety, too; how will China react after all these years?
They stop at an old house on the outskirts of the city, half-hidden from the road by an encroaching forest. England fumbles clumsily with the foreign bills for a moment until Hong Kong takes pity on him and hands the right amount of money to the driver.
As the sound of the taxi's engine fades into the distance, England looks apprehensively at the house, and speaks for the first time since they boarded the plane in London. "Are you..." he starts, and then clears his throat and changes the question. "Is China at home?"
Sterling shrugs, studying the house that he barely remembers after being gone for a century and a half. Making up his mind, he motions to England to follow him as he walks around the house and into the forest. He can feel England's questioning gaze on his back, and explains, "China kept his garden in a small clearing not too far in. He or one of my other...siblings might be there."
Arthur catches his hesitation, but doesn't really have the heart to call Sterling out on it. After all, Arthur thinks with discomfort, I was the one who took Sterling away from his family.
There's someone already in the clearing when they enter it quietly, someone in a white and red kimono with a blue sash, tending to the flowers that wave gently in the wind from the banks of a pond. Japan looks up as they draw closer, and his face breaks into a joyful smile, dropping his mask of cold indifference for once. Gardening forgotten, he stands and embraces Hong Kong briefly, before holding him at arm's length to look him over. "Welcome home, brother."
Sterling can't help but smile. "It's good to be back," he breathes, before his hazel-golden eyes turn mischievous. He slips off his shoes and socks, ignoring Arthur's disapproving look, and sits down by the pond, dangling his feet in the water as Kiku and Arthur continue talking quietly.
"Yao-nii never really forgave you, you know," Kiku says softly, and Sterling starts, thinking for a moment that Kiku was talking to him. Arthur looks down at the grass beneath his feet, dry and brown in some places from the summer heat.
"I know," he whispers, and Sterling knows that he regrets what he did a hundred and fifty years ago. But will China accept that? his mind wonders.
"Come, brother," Kiku says then, turning to Sterling, his lips threatening to quirk into a smile again. "Yao will want to see you."
Sterling scrambles to his feet, glancing at his shoes as he debates whether or not to put them back on. He bends and picks up the shoes by the laces, before following Kiku and Arthur back to the house, the grass delightfully warm and soft under his bare feet. As he walks, he shrugs out of his suit jacket, leaving the dress shirt underneath—it really was too hot in Beijing in the summer.
England eyes the door cautiously, earning a smirk from Kiku. "Just because the doorknob has a dragon carved on it does not mean it will bite," he teases gently.
Arthur rolls his eyes, but chuckles. "I'm not too worried about the door," he says, trying to look grim. "I'm worried about the dragon behind the door."
Kiku's soft laugh floats back to Sterling on the slight summer breeze as he catches up to them. The Japanese man opens the door, ushering them in, as he calls out, "Yao-nii, it's me, Kiku." He bites his lip, amber eyes darting from Arthur to Sterling, but before he can give a warning about his company, China has bustled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands hurriedly on his apron. His long hair—it wasn't that long before, was it? thinks Sterling—is pulled back in a messy ponytail, loose strands dusted with flour.
His golden eyes harden slightly when he sees England standing nervously in his hallway. "England," he says, with just a hint of frigidity and a nod. Then his eyes land on Sterling, and they widen almost comically in shock.
Hong Kong realizes, with a jolt, that he has to look down now to meet China's eyes. He dredges up distant memories of falling asleep in said nation's lap in the middle of a bedtime story, of being tucked into bed next to Taiwan and Korea, only to get up in the middle of the night and stumble sleepily into China's bed instead, of China tearfully pleading with England to leave Hong Kong alone—
"Oh, my God," China says, breathless, golden eyes still wide. "Xianggang?"
Hong Kong takes a cautious two steps forward, past Arthur, who gladly fades into the background. China has not taken his eyes off Hong Kong yet, still seemingly unable to believe his eyes. Then, shakily, he raises a hand, searching for the birthmark on Hong Kong's neck, just below the point where the jawbone meets the neck. Hong Kong lays his hand over China's and guides them to the exact spot, watching those golden eyes carefully.
Once Yao feels the slight ridge of his baby brother's birthmark, he lets out a breath he doesn't know he has been holding, and blinks against the sudden tears that come to his eyes, opting instead to pull Sterling into a crushing hug.
Surprisingly enough, Sterling returns the embrace with equal fervor. "Gege," he whispers.
"I missed you so much, aru," Yao murmurs into Sterling's shoulder, before pulling back to look Sterling up and down, leaving only their hands intertwined. "Well," he says after a few moments' silence, "it's a little disconcerting that my baby brother is taller than me, aru—" his lips twist into a rueful smile—"but at least England raised you well." He shoots a glare at the Englishman, but there's an undercurrent of gratefulness in that gaze, and Arthur feels that Yao has come another step closer to completely forgiving him.
There are fireworks set off in celebration over Beijing that night, and the three Asian nations lie down on the grass, watching the colorful sparks mingle with the stars. Yao still has barely taken his eyes off of Sterling, drinking in the long-missed sight of his baby brother, re-memorizing the young man's features. "Korea and Taiwan will be here tomorrow," he says, almost absently. (Japan shifts uncomfortably.) "They'll be happy to see you, aru. Both of you," he adds, when he looks over to see the guilty look on Japan's face.
Kiku just shrugs, unwilling to argue on a night like this. The three remain in companionable silence for a few more minutes, before Yao suddenly gasps. "I almost forgot, aru!" he exclaims, and gets up. "I'll be right back," he promises, and dashes into the house. Sterling raises an eyebrow at Kiku, whose shrug says he doesn't know what Yao is talking about.
Yao returns a few minutes later with something held gently in his hand, and lies down again between his brothers. Sterling feels something light and cold drop into his hand, and glances down at it. "I kept it for you, like you asked," Yao says, watching his reaction carefully.
Sterling squints at the object in his hand, trying to see what it is, before another firework explosion illuminates it. It is a jade pendant on a red string, a golden dragon on each side curled around an embossed Chinese word. He inhales sharply as the memories return—England shouting at him to leave the necklace behind, Hong Kong asking China to keep it for him until he comes back—
"Thank you," Sterling murmurs, squeezing Yao's slender hand, and slips the necklace on. It is cold against his chest, but quickly warms up, and Yao smiles affectionately at him as another firework explodes in the night sky.
As the sparks trail gently down, they briefly form a zijin flower, the symbol of Hong Kong.
A/N: The zijin plant is known by many names, even in China, and its scientific name is Bauhinia blakeana. Random tidbit in case you were curious. Xianggang is the shortened Chinese version of Hong Kong, and gege is (older) brother.
(1) is a translated quote from the last paragraph of the accompanying short essay for Lesson 2 in the Jinan University Chinese Language textbook, Grade 7.
Please review! Constructive criticism much appreciated.