Relentless

Kiku's muscles screamed in pain. He gritted his teeth, keeping his gaze firm and ahead of him. He gripped his blade's handle once more. The back of his hand was a fiery red from constant thwacking by bamboo stick.

"Try it again." His teacher commanded.

Gripping hard, Kiku stepped forwards. He tensed his forearm and unsheathed his blade. For a moment, he thought his teacher smiled. Kiku returned to his upright posture, returning his katana to its long sheath at his side. He gripped it firmly, despite a sudden trickle of blood roaming down his knuckles.

He was in pain, but he was also growing steadily stronger.

"Repeat it ten times." His teacher said, drawing away from Kiku.

Kiku nodded and trained. He trained and trained and trained. His teacher had insisted on returning to the basics after Kiku displayed a flaw in his performance several days back. Of course, Kiku had been getting over a cold then. Yet he had no right to say it was unfair. After all, Kiku could not afford to make a mistake out on the battlefield. Images of green seas of grass swam before his mind. He longed to—

"Ha—" Kiku gasped in pain as the bamboo brush greeted his hand again. Spirals of pain sprung anew from his hand. He looked up through watery eyes at his teacher and muttered an apology.

"Do you apologize to your enemies when they slice your neck open?" He asked, his lips curling in resentment.

Kiku shook his head.

"Then do not apologize. Learn."

The constant threat of pain, of death, lingered in Kiku's mind. He trained harder than before. He strengthened his muscles with practice each night and with a focused, clear mind when his teacher, the samurai, taught him. Relentless.

. . .

The sun splashed golden, warm light across the thatched roofs. Kiku stood near one, his katana hooked on to his person. He grew into the habit of carrying it wherever he went. The blade stuck out like a warning at his side.

"If you stood any more stiffly I would have thought you a statue."

Kiku turned smoothly to the side, where he heard the rustling of footsteps. The rolling hills greeted him and, amid them, his friend appeared. Kiku smiled and approached him. His hand drifted along the handle, as if drawn by a string.

His friend, the stocky, short Kenta, eyed his actions with bemusement. "Sensei has beaten it into your head already, then?" He nodded at Kiku's hand.

Kiku nodded. "I must always be prepared for battle."

"Indeed, so you must be…" Kenta said, still grinning. "Then why are you standing out here like a lost child?"

"Did I look lost?" Kiku asked in surprise. He hoped no one had seen him, then. His pale cheeks flushed, giving an even starker contrast between his flesh and his inky hair, which had yet to be cut at the scalp.

"Now you do, I was only making fun of you!" Kenta said, slapping Kiku's rigid shoulder.

"Ah, I see…"

"Who else did you ask to come here?"

"I asked Eiji and Masa to meet me here." Kiku said. He nodded towards the path he had followed. He still had yet to see his other two friends.

Kenta turned towards the path as well, folding his hand delicately before him like a general. He was the highest-ranking among his classmates. It was unlikely that he wouldn't be placed somewhere high, somewhere important. Kiku's future had been hazy, until that morning. He once envied Kenta, somewhat. But it was hard to feel any hard emotions towards the jovial, oversized man.

"You can relax," Kenta said gently, "They won't hit you on the hand for slouching."

It was a wonder how fast news flew in the village. One moment Kiku could easily hide his scarred hand and the next every child wanted him to expose the tender muscles. Kiku stiffened further. He still wanted to look prepared.

Finally two new forms came bobbing along the path. At the front was Eiji who rushed towards Kiku, his face radiating excitement. Kiku never called upon his friends unless he had something important to say. Eiji fidgeted nervously with his long ponytail. His fingers caught along a tangle and he struggled with it nervously until Masa came up behind him.

Masa appeared grim, as usual. He walked towards Kiku, limping. He had suffered a blow to his leg. But even before that he was wary and tended to jump at the slightest noise. Kiku approached the two and made sure the others had gathered around him.

"Stop looking so stiff," Masa grunted.

"I kept telling him that and he won't listen. Amazing what gets through his head." Kenta said in mock-exasperation.

Eiji's wide eyes flickered between the two.

Kiku still refused to release his muscles from their near constant tension.

"I ask because you obviously don't want to draw attention to yourself." Masa said. He was the oldest of their group. Kiku finally agreed and reposed. His shoulders felt sore. Masa cracked half of a smile. "The less you want to be noticed, the more you want to look natural."

"O, wise one, what other blessing of knowledge will you place upon us?" Kenta asked.

"That you should shut your mouth," Masa retorted calmly, "I still can hit you with my hands."

"Good luck catching up to me."

Eiji snorted in laughter.

Kiku raised his hand, trying to draw attention back to him. Three sets of eyes landed on him expectantly. Kiku cleared his throat lightly.

"I wanted to ask your opinion on something." Kiku said.

"Go ahead." Kenta said. Masa settled into silence.

"I was considering joining the Imperial Army." He paused, as if the gravity of his words shocked him.

None of his friends made any comment. Kenta looked away from him. Eiji smiled politely. "I think that's wonderful, Honda. They say you're a talented warrior. I'm sure you'll shoot through the ranks!"

Kiku nodded his thanks.

"However, it would be difficult leaving you without any certainty that I would come back." Kiku said. "That's why I wanted to tell you now, for my own sake."

Kenta remained quiet. Masa ran a hand through his thick patch of hair. "There is certainty that you won't come back. The world is threatening to delve into war. You of all people should know that."

Kiku smiled solemnly. "I know."

"Maybe I could join you." Eiji said. He quickly added in response to the curious stares shot his way "—I mean, as a messenger of sorts. I'm not trained in anything and it's too late, but I can watch over him. And… Well, don't you want to be a general, Kenta?"

Kenta finally turned to them. "Eiji, I want to stay here." He was fond of the smaller man, allowing him to use the familiar first name. "This village needs me. There are only so many soldiers we can send into the capital without completely draining our supply of men here. This village is far from them. We need to protect ourselves and I owe it to my homeland to do that, at the very least."

"That's very poetic of you, Kenta," Kiku said softly.

"You wrote your own eulogies, all three of you." Masa stated, breaking the silence before it was even born. "I have no announcement of my future to make."

"You can do your civic duty too, you know." Kenta said. "Besides, why are you so caught up in our deaths? Are you planning to have us killed?"

"No," Masa scoffed, "I'm only speaking what I believe to be true."

. . .

Kiku's training was cut short by bare feet padding up to him. His teacher eyed the messenger girl warily.

"What do you want, child?" He asked.

The girl, dressed in pauper clothing bowed to him. "I have a message for Honda Kiku."

"Deliver it, he's right before you." His teacher said. He gave Kiku a look that meant he was dismissed to receive it.

Kiku sheathed his blade and turned to the girl. From her furtive posture, he had a feeling she knew who he was before his teacher told him. She rocked on her small heels. Her hair was pulled up tightly, save for a few curls surrounding her round face.

"May I speak with you outside?" he asked. A dirty hand directed him just outside the sliding doors.

Kiku agreed, following her through and to the overcast outside world. Rain threatened. He watched her as she nervously checked her surroundings, so they would not be overheard.

"Speak, child." Kiku commanded in the sweetest way he knew how.

"Wang Yao would like you to see him for some importance business next week, sir." She said, holding out a letter.

Kiku took it. The paper was fine and the writing elegant. Someone very important had wanted to see him. Though, Wang was not a Japanese surname… "From where is Wang Yao from, child?"

"He comes from the Forbidden City." She said.

"Beijing?" Kiku asked. What did someone from across the seas want from him? From this small village a few miles away from the sea? Was it an opportunity…? He doubted the girl would know any more answers than he did. She was a simple messenger. She remained in front of him, wringing her scrawny fingers.

Kiku dug in his pocket and produced a few coins. He pressed them into her palm and she scampered off. At least he was doing the poor a favor, he thought, tucking the note into the folds of his clothing. He would find out soon enough.

Several disclaimers:

I do not own Hetalia.

This war, this village, and this time period are fictional. This is not meant to be an accurate portrayal of the remarkable Japanese history, which well merits study. This is not a classification on this group of people. This is a story, simple as that, with a few fun facts thrown in.

This story is written before having been posted. So, rather than asking me to continue, I would like it if the reader would please actually review and comment on the story. Thank you.

I hope you enjoy.