An invitation to acceptance
A/N: Once again, a South Korea-and-Japan-related story. I was intending to write some China-and-Japan-related stuff, but that will have to wait.
It's rude and presumptuous of me, but if you've read my other Hetalia story, you might see some similarities between this and 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night' – please see the end note!
This is based off of the end of the Korean ban on Japanese media in 2004, so perhaps it could be called historical.
I'd like to stress that this could be considered a bit more serious than 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night', and that once again – I really do not wish to cause any offence in the slightest.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Fruits Basket, FullMetal Alchemist, Megami Tensei, Metal Gear or Howl's Moving Castle.
"Moshi moshi, this is Japan," Japan answers the phone with a distracted tone, more caught up in the announcement of yet more Fruits Basket volumes and a new FullMetal Alchemist anime. "Can I help you?"
"Er- hi, Japan, um… Yo?" Japan promptly snaps to attention. Now there's a voice that he's never expected to hear on his telephone, and really, it's no surprise, given the way he had treated his caller.
"South Korea-san," Japan says formally, his voice betraying none of the slight giddiness and nervousness he felt. "This is… a surprise."
"Um, yeah, I mean…Sorry about that, it's just…"
"A pleasant one, of course," Japan remarks, trying to fight off feelings of shame and guilt once more. It's only natural that South Korea is nervous around him, Japan knows that, and feels grateful that he is so humbled as to be receiving a phone call from his brother (not that Japan ever calls him that nowadays, for fear of hurting South Korea's feelings – but then again, that plan has backfired, hasn't it, and people tend to think that he is unremorseful; when actually he just doesn't want to upset anyone and it's hard to apologise because well, it just is, isn't it – and look at him, trying desperately to explain his behaviour, the wire of the telephone wrapped around his finger! The shame!).
He untangles his finger from the plastic cable and silently reprimands himself for his behaviour – he caused the situation, he should bear the consequences. To allow himself to feel upset about the current state of his relationship with his brother is selfish on his part, he thinks, but he cannot help it. This, he does not like. He can put on the blankest mask he needs around other people, but—analytical by nature—he cannot help but think endlessly about his actions and feelings.
South Korea takes a deep breath and clears his throat, and Japan hears the shuffling of material as South Korea shifts from foot to foot. "Are you, um, busy at all?"
"No," Japan lies easily, ignoring the countless odd jobs he had to do and the email marked 'important' that he has just received. "Do you need something?"
"Well, no, not exactly, I was just…" Japan frowns and looks at the phone.
"Sorry, could you repeat that?"
"I was wondering… if you wanted to come over. Tonight, I mean." Japan blinks in surprise, before smiling, only softly. He has, of course, no idea what South Korea is thinking, but the thought of seeing him is more than enough. Again, he thinks. I am being selfish. To do this… This is my fault. It cannot be remedied so easily. Expecting him to even care… I must remember my place.
"If it's not too much trouble," he says stoically, reminding himself to get South Korea a gift. "At what time should I arrive?"
"Well," South Korea replies, sounding more relieved now that he'd managed to blurt out what he'd wanted to say. "Seven's good, I guess. And, er, it's not like it's formal or anything – I mean, I've got some ice cream, and er, thought it'd be nice to share it, and well… bring some stuff, alright?"
"Sorry?" Japan is confused as to what he means by 'stuff.'
"Didn't you say you've got those new games you wanted to show me? Or those new programmes?"
"Um, yes," Japan mutes the volume on his laptop, startled by the sudden explosion of sound from some stupid online advert. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that you…" He trails off, shame-faced. South Korea had rightly turned around and told him that he wanted nothing to do with him, and that included his stupid games and movies.
"Well, you were talking about it and it sounded kind of good, so… I mean, I'd like… Unless you'd rather not bring them, it's up to you…"
"No, it's no trouble; I would be honoured," Japan says quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. He is nervous. "I'll see you at seven?"
"Right, okay."
Both of them speak at the same time, a sudden reminder of when they were younger, closer. "Um, bye."
Japan hangs the phone up in shock. Did that really just happen? His laptop reads two o'clock – suddenly the odd jobs don't seem that important (more accurately, he reflects, their importance has been ousted by a much greater one) and he dashes around his house in his shorts and t-shirt, collecting various 'stuff' to take to Korea's and finally having an excuse to buy Tales of Symphonia and dig old movies out of their boxes in the storage room.
He books a flight to South Korea while trying to neatly wrap a box of sweets with red paper and pink and gold ribbons arranged in flower shapes (the Internet tells him that pink is considered to be a colour of trust in Korea, and so pink ribbons it is. He actually has no idea whether that's true or not, but he's trying).
He smiles as he puts everything in bags (of which there are a lot; he's had to pack games consoles in case Korea doesn't have them), excited but nervous and rather ashamed that he hasn't managed to apologise first. Nonetheless, he feels happy, and his slight smile is only wiped away when he finds himself face-to-face with South Korea's door.
"Um, hi," South Korea forces a grin as Japan hovers at his door, rubbing the back of his head in what is apparent embarrassment. "Come in."
"Thank you," Japan removes his shoes and is given a pair of slippers, hauling the two bags into which he managed to condense everything he wanted to bring into the hallway. South Korea looks a little nervous, but lets Japan into the living room, still smiling awkwardly. "Is tea alright?"
"Tea would be lovely, thank you."
So they sit and drink tea, South Korea happily commenting on the nice wrapping of the gift, and as the night sets in they hole themselves up in South Korea's living room, watching various Korean dramas and the nervousness between them easily melting away. Japan sets up the PlayStation 2 and they spend hours pounding on the buttons, each with a bucket of ice-cream and shouting with youthfulness appropriate for young men thousands of years their junior. Howl's Moving Castle goes down a treat, as do even older things like the Megami Tensei series and the Metal Gear franchise. They fall asleep in the nether-regions of the morning with their heads resting against one another, waking to the day-glow buzz of the screen and slightly stiff. South Korea makes a late breakfast as Japan tidies away, not-really-struggling to choose whether or not to give South Korea the games. Yes, he paid for him; they're his, they've been used and played over and over again, but… none of that really matters. He leaves them in South Korea's living room and makes his sleepy way to the kitchen's veranda, where they sit and eat rice and drink soup in companionable silence.
"That was fun," South Korea says eventually, stifling a yawn. "I'm glad I asked you to come."
"It was fun," Japan agrees, half-smiling, but still nervous around the other. "Keep the games, and the movies."
"Hey, are you sure?" South Korea thanks him happily, looking at Japan and sighing. "We should… do it more often."
Japan blinks, a strange kind of relief settling over him. He looks down at the ground, watching and wondering and feeling remarkably…empty. "I'd like that," he says to South Korea, meaning every word. "I really would."
Korea kicks his legs as he dangles them over the side of the decking. "So would I."
Japan is pleased to find that it becomes routine.
The telephone rings. South Korea picks it up, hearing the one voice he doesn't want to hear on this day – the day that Japan turned on him, bruising and breaking bones, killing his citizens… Sixty years does little to erase the scars. "South Korea-san?"
"Y-Yes?" South Korea tries to hide his displeasure – not very well, he thinks.
"Um, well. I… Do you…" Japan clears his throat, sounding a little bit strained. "No, I mean… I'm sorry. For everything I did. I really am. I'll go; I just wanted to say that. Ano, I…"
He apologised. He finally apologised. South Korea nods, then becomes aware that Japan cannot see him. He thinks Japan is sorry, but he's always found it difficult to sacrifice his pride (cleverly disguised under the word 'honour') – but then, so has Korea. And does that mean that just because he's apologised, he thinks it's all resolved between them? Some of his citizens still remember, and he'll certainly never forget, but there's a lot to be said for the feeling of sadness. Why should I be sad when Japan deserves to apologise? Why should I want to forgive him? He knows the answer, somewhere deep down in his heart.
Because he's my brother. And no matter how he hurt me, he loved me once, too. Maybe he still does. And maybe, one day, I'll be able to come to love him again, as well.
He remembers a time when both he and Japan weren't so occupied by occupation. As much as he does not want to admit it, those days—those uncountable, wonderful days—are some of the best memories he holds. Racing Japan to the river from China's house. Waiting for Japan to catch up. Pushing him in, and jumping in after him. Days when they used to share adventures and nights when they used to share dreams. What does he think of when he thinks 'Japan?' He takes a moment to ponder. He thinks of things to lead to thoughts of nature; of ink, and calligraphy—grace in the hands that draw and write it; a necessary peace and an unfalteringly good temper. Betrayal, and regret—regret seems now to be the colour of Japan's favourite haori, hidden though it may be in the back of his wardrobe of emotions. He feels a little bit of childlike jealousy at how Japan can change and adapt and impress, but that's no longer important to him, because he is his own nation, with his own identity and his own personality.
He's not afraid of Japan anymore. He had been, once, at a time when those cold eyes were colder than steel and the steel was sharper than glass.
The hand of the clock on his wall swings forward—a millennium in a second; sixty long years in a heartbeat.
He realises he hasn't answered.
"Japan. I understand. See you tonight?"
A sigh—maybe a sob—of relief. "…With pleasure."
A/N: As I said, some of you might think 'hey, this is pretty similar to 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night'.' That's because this is the original, per se, the inspiration for it, so actually, 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night' is similar to this. (Whenever I type 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night' I can never remember if it's 'South Korea and Japan' or 'Japan and South Korea'…)
Anyway, although this is the inspiration for 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night', there are some differences. The first is that this is based on the end of the Korean ban on Japanese media (e.g. games and manga) in 2004 and 'And then South Korea and Japan stayed up all night' is based on the Japanese apology to Korea in 2010 – although this one actually features the apology (or at least one interpretation of it). The other is set afterwards.
I'm still not sure about the title. I was struggling to choose between 'Invitation to Acceptance', 'Invite to Acceptance,' 'An Invite to Acceptance' and 'An Invitation to Acceptance.' I think 'An Invitation to Acceptance' is probably the best: acceptance in this case doesn't consist of just one invite (hence the indefinite article) but I'm still trying to work out the connotational differences between 'invite' and 'invitation'. 'Invitation', however, sounds a little better in this phrase, so 'invitation' it is. (*shot for language rant*)
I think they're also quite differently stylistically. This is closer to the characters and their actions rather than telling a story. Though, I must say, I get the feeling the parts with Japan aren't my best writing for him. That might be because I'm trying to detail (to a point) what he thinks and feels, and by doing that I'm losing some of his more complex thinking. It's easier to write as him than for him.
Moshi moshi = 'hello', used on the telephone (Japanese. The old-fashioned version is apparently 'mousu mousu').
In 2004, the Korean Government lifted the ban on the import of Japanese manga and games and media. Before that, though, there were some imports of movies and the ban was partially lifted in 1998. 2004, however, marked the complete end of the ban. I used Howl's Moving Castle because that was apparently very popular in South Korea (although I was going to use Spirited Away).