A Very Asian New Year

New Year was tomorrow, its eve this very day, and with the way things were headed, it was bound to be dismal. There seemed to be a grey hue shrouded on the house, its fumes rippling through the crevices and corners, ensnaring everyone in its thick silence.

Japan twiddled with his phone by his bed, mindlessly scrolling through the various apps, rereading old messages and occasionally playing a small game before he threw it down and lay back, the ceiling blankly staring back at him. He heaved a heavy sigh. He ruined it for everyone, didn't he?

He was weighed down by boulders of guilt.

He ruined it all, didn't he?

Why did he even come? They would've been better off without him anyway. A simple text message was more than enough from his side, or a fifteen second voice note. Why did he decide to ride a flight to China, get in the car with Hong Kong, sit in the same house as Korea and the rest of them? His temper got the best of him and he proved himself utterly immature- how old was he to act so childishly? To lower himself down to such a level that he literally humiliated himself in the eyes of his family?

That was, if they even accepted him anymore.

"Japan? I'm coming in, ok?"

His door smoothed open, the rubbing of the wood against the floor oh so loud in the dense, dim silence, and in stepped Korea. There was a forced smile on his face, yet it lacked the reckless cheeriness it always carried.

Japan remained on his bed, the crook of his arm covering his eyes, and wearily cursed himself for his impoliteness. As if he didn't do enough already.

He forced himself upwards and jadedly stood up, "I apologize for my rudeness."

"Uh… ok, I guess," Korea scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

He fiddled with the beats that were hung around his neck and Japan remained standing, his head turned to the window which was fogged from the cold. They stood in that silence for a few minutes, and Japan vaguely wondered- in the blankness of his mind- what the Korean could possible want. To tell him off? Yell at him as well? Tell him to leave? Pinch his breasts? Break his phone? Listen to K-pop…

"So… nice weather, da-ze?"

Japan blinked.

"Eahgh!" Korea let out a whiny sigh, plonking himself on the bed, "I hate doing stuff like this, da-ze!"

He looked up at Japan, expecting the man to ask him what it was or to shift uncomfortably from the obvious hint thrown, but found none of that. Japan looked blank and numb.

"Should I leave?"

Korea bit his lip for a minute, swaying from where he sat, before he brought his hands to his lap, quirking his lips.

"Well, you could," Korea nodded.

Japan felt a small flare in his chest- stinging and hurting and burning- and stiffened. He would not make the same mistake again. He nodded, "very well," and moved towards his closet. If that was what they wanted, then so be it. He didn't want to feel any more of a burden than he already was.

"Or," Korea continued, "you could always try to fix things, you know."

"What do you mean, fix things?"

"Ah, the burden of being an older brother," Korea shook his head, "it's all on me to solve the problems between the youth of this family, da-ze. But, responsibility originated in Korea anyway-"

"Yong Soo, get to the point," Japan snapped.

"Im Yong Soo!" Korea sniffed, "unlike your weird naming skills that is too lame to originate in Korea-"

Japan threw open his drawers and grabbed his pile of shirts, throwing them on the bed before aiming for his pants.

"Wait, wait, wait! Impatience did not originate in Korea, da-ze! Calm down!"

"Korea," Japan turned, "look. It is best I leave. I know I have been a burden and I truly apologize. If that is all, please leave so I can pack-"

"And how are you going to get to the airport, huh?" Korea crossed his arms, cocking a brow, "did you book a plane? A hotel? A brothel? Hm?"

Japan blushed yet his words turned to a stutter.

"Who's going to drive you? Hm? Do you know the way out of here?"

Japan remained silent before he turned back to his drawers and pulled out his pile of pants and shirts.

"As long as I stop being a burden then I shall do what I must."

"Babo! So you're just going to leave everyone for a miserable new year and now aniki is going to be depressed the whole 365 days because he's superstitious like that, and Macau's going to go bankrupt in his casino because he'll lose all the luck, and Taiwan's going to be voted trashiest cosplayer in this year's manga event and Xiang or Leon or whatever he calls himself is going to live with that western kid with the weird white hair- can you believe he has white hair, da-ze? Do you think he's sick? Maybe it's from the volcanoes- but shouldn't his hair be red then? And now Hyung-Soo…"

Korea stopped.

That name…to Japan, it was like a small electric jolt in his brain, a slight churning in his stomach and a twist under his skin.

"It's new years now and… I've been thinking about him a lot," Korea's voice was softer than Japan had ever heard it.

The Korean was slumped, twiddling his fingers with his eyes downcast.

"Sometimes… his name just slips from me when I'm thinking and I… because it's suppose to be time for family now and he's my… well, I think he still- I'm not sure he really think that way now because…" Korea bit his lip and the room felt colder, "I miss him, da-ze… I know he hurts me sometimes but… he's my twin. We originated together- we're one."

Japan bit his lip and hunched back, every fibre in his body becoming uncomfortable and defensive.

"You hurt us too, you know," Korea continued, pointedly looking at Japan, "you hurt us a lot."

"I know."

"You still didn't apologize."

"I know."

"I still don't forgive you."

He didn't? But Korea's expression didn't waver- that eerie confident calmness that didn't suit him at all. Japan felt the heaviness in his chest harden and bile rise up his throat. Slowly, the walls were closing in and he started to feel nauseous. He had to get out of here- he had to.

"I don't," Korea shrugged, "but… we're family. So, I'll wait for your apology just like I'll wait for Hyung-Soo to come back home."

Korea stood up, pulling his Samsung from his pocket and digging his free hand back in. The way he casually stated that showed how confident he was- how utterly sure he was of what would happen.

"Xiang's had it hard, so don't go all grampa on him- that's aniki's job!" Korea beamed, "and don't go all philosophy and crap because it's Macau's job! And don't go all awesome because it's my job! After all, awesomeness originated in Korea, right?"

"Well, it's, like, completely outdated."

That cool, neutral voice carried itself through the dense thickness of the room and Japan felt further dread settle into his stomach. He didn't want to see any more of them- especially not that kid. Should he bow and greet, as manners quoted him to or should he just ignore him because, truth be told, that was what he himself wanted to do?

Or should he just run a rampage, screaming and shouting like Italy would do, before they sign him into a mental hospital hence, he would register a great escape?

That didn't sound too bad…

"You've been avenged, da-ze! I paid back my life debt!" Korea laughed, "Japan was going to turn all ninja on you, slit your throat in your sleep and run to steal the Korean beer in my room that he was eyeing!"

Hong Kong walked into Japan's room, his eyes boring into the older man's orbs unwaveringly and rebelliously, his nose tipped in slight conceit. He stood a mere metre away, his arms crossed against his chest and his mouth pulled into a tight scowl.

"Hong Kong-san," Japan said flatly. It was mere acknowledgement.

Hong Kong let loose a puff of breath, "look. If it wasn't New Years tomorrow, I wouldn't have come to speak to you, just so you know."

Japan pursed his lips.

"I was going to light the firecrackers I hid under your bed, but then you'd get like, burned and we'd have to waste a whole day driving you to the hospital, so I didn't do that."

There were firecrackers… under his bed? Japan shot a quick look at the bed he had been sitting by not too long ago but quickly maintained his expression.

"So, for Gramps, I'll keep neutral with you until tomorrow and after that, we'll like, keep on the hate-fest, alright?"

"I do not hate you, Hong Kong-san."

Hong Kong cocked his head to the side a little daringly and a little disbelievingly. Now he was going to say 'well I hate you' or some other snarky, teenaged reply and Japan would have to keep himself in check lest he slap the kid... again. England called this kid a gentleman? He was seriously doubting whatever the Englishman would say in the future.

"I know you don't, I'm not exactly stupid you know."

What was he playing at?

"I know I look like a teenager and stuff but I'm not kiddish and I like, know my way around life, ok? Just 'cause I'm an 'administrative zone' doesn't mean I'm not, like, independent myself."

Japan blinked, "what are you talking about?"

Hong Kong stiffened and his blank stare turned hard and icy. The boy bit his lip yet Japan could feel something writhing inside the teen- some internal debate. Probably whether to rocket the Japanese to the sky knowing the Chinese teen's sadistic ideas of enjoyment.

"Nothing," Hong Kong huffed, "just keep it cool for Gramps, ok? You can go all 'war lord' on us later."

Don't lose control, his mind chanted. Don't lose control. Don't take those words to heart. Just ignore.

But how could he? How could he when he was constantly reminded of the things he hated- the things that made him shudder and wretch and tighten? Everything was already ruined anyway- this whole holiday was nothing but a superficial numbness over a giant, throbbing wound that was sure to bleed. He was going to leave. Why was he so hesitant before- he was getting out of this place.

He couldn't stand it.

"Don't worry," he said as coolly as he could, "I'm leaving anyway."

"You can't do that," Hong Kong said sharply.

"I will not stay where I am not wanted," Japan tried to keep his gaze, "I will not act like yesterday never happened-"

"Yesterday was your fault and now you're just going to walk out?" Hong Kong sneered.

His brittle nerves were on the brink of shattering.

"What happened to always 'caring for us'? Not working out for you-"

"Hong Kong!" his voice snapped the boy shut. For a moment- for one dreadful moment- Japan feared his control was lost once more. But he could hear his shallow breaths and feel his thrumming heart and knew that he was still the same, "I have made my stance very clear. You cannot stand me, so stop prolonging this situation and get out of the room so I can pack."

"Come on Xiang," Korea tugged at the teen's sleeve, "let's go."

But Hong Kong's eyes were silts, "you think I'm going to cower and shiver like I used to?" his voice was thin. "Well I won't, Nihon. You know what- you should leave. I'm sick of seeing your face here anyway."

Japan felt his phone crack and crumple into his palm, the glass piercing into his skin. However, he merely looked up, his lips curling ruefully.

"And this child is what England calls a gentleman?"

He seriously thought the boy would hit him. He thought Hong Kong would flip over and sock him right in the face there and then. But he forgot that Korea was in the same room who, though he didn't look it, did have some strength to reign back an enraged, insulted teenager.

"Don't act like you know my life! Don't act like you know what I've been through-"

The voice- so furious and so desperate- wrenched his heart guilty. He was slowly slitting the ties with his family… he was creating a hatred he knew he deserved yet wanted it completely eradicated. He wanted a true family- he yearned for it… yet looking at the hurt abhorrence on Hong Kong's face and the complete disappointment on Korea's, he shied away.

"Sufficiente!"

A clear, biting voice cut through the cold air. Macau stood by the doorway, his face contorted in an uncharacteristic display of irritation as he glared at his brother. Korea's grip on Hong Kong slackened and the teen's eyes were sharply averted, his throat clenching and unclenching, looking like an irritiated, cornered animal.

How many times had he felt that was as well, Japan thought bitterly. How many times was he cornered by nations and humans alike, with blame and anger or misery? Too many times, he decided and Hong Kong's shoulders began to slump from that strong conceit he once carried. Too many times, he decided as Hong Kong's eyes were starting to redden. Too many times…

"Haven't you done enough? I told you to speak with him, not to vent-"

But Hong Kong already stormed past him, not casting anyone a second's glance. Korea threw a quick, pointed look at Macau- 'you just had to say that'- before following the teen himself.

Macau ran a weary hand over his face, slipping off his glasses for a moment, muttering something in Portuguese. Macau turned to Japan, heaving a burdened sigh before the mound of clothes caught his eyes. He gave a slow understanding nod.

"I'll drive you to the airport."


He brought down his suitcase and turned to the door, securely locking it. He leaned against the wood, taking in a deep breath, before running a hand down his face. He was back home, in Tokyo, in his silent, desolate house where the cherry blossoms were bare, the grounds were coated in bitter snow, completely alone.

Just the way he liked it, right?

He grit his teeth.

Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to throw himself from the highest cliff. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He wanted to forget- he wanted to disappear- he wanted-

He fiercely pushed himself from the doorway, stormed into his living room and grabbed the nearest thing he could see. The vase crashed against the wood, shards digging into the wood like nails and screaming against the crystals with tortured, high pitched wails.

His arm felt relieved but his soul felt heavier with each passing second.


He sat on the porch by a naked cherry blossom, the cold piercing his bones underneath his thick cloak. He discarded his turtlenecks and pants for a thick kimono and an even thicker shawl that draped around his shoulders, held in place by his thin, pale hand. In the other hand, he had a small cup of hot tea that was quickly cooling in the stale air. In a few hours, the Chinese New Year would start… and he had ruined it.

By that simple visit he severed the relation between two brothers, put Korea in the midst of misery, didn't even think about how Vietnam and Taiwan would feel and selfishly ruined the one event that meant so much to China.

As if Japan hadn't hurt him enough.

Macau drove him in stilled silence and he booked the quickest plane to Tokyo the moment he stepped into the airport. He arrived by noon and stayed outside in the cold, dim night.

He could hear footsteps- crunching of shoes on the snowy pathway- before the silhouette of a youth came into view. He was wearing a thick hoodie that covered his head, jeans with his hands dug deep into its pockets and sneakers that were glimmering from the wet snow that surrounded. Whatever the youth was listening to was sharply turned off the moment he stepped into view yet Japan could've sworn he could hear Arctic Monkeys blaring from the headphones.

He paid no heed to the youth who continued to come closer, paid no heed as the slim boy took a seat next to him, paid no heed as the boy's eyes casually observed the hidden stars, his arm leaned back to hold the edge of the seat.

"Guess we both ruined it, didn't we?"

He paused, "Hai," he nodded softly, lowering his eyes to the steaming cup in his hands. "We did."

The silence returned, sitting between them ever so lightly.

The silence felt heavy, yet his mind null. He wasn't racing with questions on the sudden, completely unexpected appearance of the teen. He breathed in, took a small sip of the bitter tea, before looking up at the dull sky ahead.

"They all went back to China's house in Beijing," Hong Kong continued, "after you left."

"I deeply apologize."

"Sure you…" Hong Kong started sarcastically before his voice died in his throat. "Nah... Don't. I was a bit out of line there…"

Japan looked up, meeting the boy's dark eyes questioningly.

Hong Kong pursed his lips, raising his thick, foreign brows in thought. For a moment, Japan couldn't see those slightly slanted eyes, that dark choppy hair, that pale, thin face… he could see England. He could see England's stern yet open expression, England's quirk of the mouth, England's clasped fingers, England's straight posture, England's tilt of the neck-

Then, it disappeared and Japan could see how strongly Hong Kong resembled China.

"I just… don't really know who I am," Hong Kong twiddled his thumbs, "and it's been bugging me for a few days so… since you're my least favourite person, I, like took it out on you." He shrugged yet his shoulders slouched uncharacteristically.

"I understand."

But Japan's words sounded dead and flat to his own ears. Politeness was expected and he'd much rather keep the conversation with the boy civil until the boy would leave. Any spark of irritation that could've touched him was numb and null. He was too tired to react.

"No, you don't," Hong Kong said sourly. "Have you been passed around like a thing your whole life? Think it easy, do you?"

"Hong Kong-san, I'm sure I am not the proper person to speak to about this-"

"See!" Hong Kong stood up, his fingers balled into trembling fists and his eyes pricking red once more, "you don't even listen- you don't even want to listen! If you want to be a part of our fucked up family then listen!"

Improper, he wanted to say. Hold your tongue, he wanted to reprimand. Wash your mouth, he wanted to scold. But he didn't.

"Why did you come to me, Hong Kong-san?" Japan ran his eyes over the frozen pond, "you said it yourself, I am your least favourite person-"

"Fine, I'll cut to the chase then," Hong Kong sneered, "I caught a three our plane all the way here to bring you back to Beijing, ok?"

Japan swallowed but his throat felt tight and constricted. The tea in his hands stung against his cold palm. Where was the logic in that? That very question he should've asked himself the moment he saw the teen finally surfaced. Where was the logic in that?

"You're spinning in circles," his voice was as tight as his chest. Why was it every time the teen spoke he wanted to explode? Every time a single word left the boy's lips he wanted to scream out in frustration because there was no logic at all-! "What is going on? What is wrong Hong Kong-san?"

What was he playing at?

Japan sharply winced.

"What do you want?"

The teacup shattered against his fingers but he couldn't care. His voice carried over the icy emptiness around them, echoing in continuous desolate bitterness. He bit his lip, his heart jumping in his throat. His breath was ragged, needles pricking the side of his lungs with each cold breath. The teen didn't answer and Japan sharply snapped his eyes to the side, feeling utterly worthless when he could see shameless tears dripping down Hong Kong's face.

"I'm like, totally sorry, ok? I know I'm like, confusing you, but I swear, I like, don't- no one bloody understands what I'm going through- not even Macau and he's supposed to- but the idiot thought he could just walk in like he owned the place and-"

Hong Kong spluttered for a minute, a flush rising to his pale face before he rubbed his eyes with the thick sleeve of his hoodie hastily.

"I just don't know who I am," his voice was broken, "no one does… who am I, Nihon? Who am I? Am I British owned? Am I Chinese? Am I my own? Am I yours?"

"I really have no time for this-" Japan stiffly stood up.

"I wanted to stay there!" Hong Kong's voice rose volumes. "I w-wanted to stay there, with him- but he just walked in and sent me to the airport the next morning like I was nothing! H-He didn't care how I felt but I cared- because to me, he was my brother!"

Japan stiffened, the blood gushing through his ears competing with the spluttering of the once composed, controlled Hong Kong.

"I liked that house- with India, Canada, Australia, N-New Zealand- I was raised to be English and t-then he sent me to a place so damn different-"

"You were always Chinese-"

Hong Kong hissed, "I lived with China when I was younger, but I grew up with England- he raised me not Gramps- I- I'm not happy here. I-I'm not happy anywhe…" his glare intensified, "then you came out of nowhere with your ridiculous imperial dreams and thought yourself so high and mighty you- "

"Mou ii yo-" he grabbed the Chinese teen from the scruff his shirt and pinned him against the tree, "Enough! Enough! Enough-" with each word, he slammed the youth's back against the bark.

Everything felt hot and everything seemed darker- his eyes were looking through a hue of blood red so vivid and so sharply it enraged him- it burst through his veins and scalded against his skin- made him tense and stiffen and shake, wanting nothing more but to destroy with his bare hands from sheer fury-

He suddenly let go, his hands trembling madly, his eyes burning harshly-

Hong Kong was hunched against the stiff, bare tree, his arms weakly raised against his face in feeble defense. His eyes were wide- wide and terrified and shocked- and Japan was plunged sixty years ago to a time when fury controlled his every impulse. A time when they were nothing more but silent wanderers- tortured phantoms- in his dank house filled with hatred. The youth was frozen- unmoving- before he took in a wheezing gasp, constricted by shock and constricted by pain.

Japan could smell the blood clotting his nose, he could hear the screams of all those he slew, he could see the faces contorted and touch all the bulging, throbbing wounds so inhumane-

"I-I'm sorry…" when did his voice sound so harsh? When was he so cruel? W-what was wrong with him- "I'm sorry, I-"

No matter what he did- no matter how wrong and how big the mistakes he made when he was younger- China would always stand by the bamboo next to the small house they lived in, his posture relaxed and his eyes softened, waiting for him with that small smile of his as to say 'I forgive you'. But back then, his mistakes were never as big as the massacred desecration he had done at the height of his greed, and so he avoided that small house by the bamboo- avoided his family- avoided China- because he was too scared he wouldn't see him standing, waiting for him with that small smile and those soft eyes.

The boy's shuddering breaths snapped him back to reality.

He could clearly remember Hong Kong- small, bright-eyed- standing by China and tugging at his sleeve wherever he went… that small, small boy who preferred to play in the paddy fields than sit for tea, or play with the matches and build small fireworks to see the night brighten with colour… However, that boy changed to a teenager caught in a limbo so culturally clashing- so severe- that Japan couldn't understand.

The youth's haughty stance was broken, his arrogance now bowed and Japan felt his stomach twist from how he helped destroy the once composed nation.

He took a step forward- the boy winced- before he gripped him from his shoulder and pulled him tight. He dug his fingers against the boy's back, pushing that too thin waist closer to his. Hong Kong was stiff- as tense as a rod unrelenting- before he slowly caved in, trying to stifle the small cries that spluttered from his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Japan's eyes were wide yet unseeing, "I'm sorry…" he could feel those fingers grip his kimono and the wetness soaking against his shoulder. It was like a dismal, dead chant from his chapped lips- a meaningless prayer for something ruined and gone.

No matter how different they were- no matter how far they were or how distant they had all become… he was still supposed to look out for his younger siblings. Something he failed to do before and something he dismally failed at right now.

He didn't know what do.

It felt like mere seconds, but Japan knew it was longer, until Hong Kong suddenly pulled away, his expression humiliated and etched with disbelief. He flustered with his sleeves, hastily rubbing away the traces of his tears and tried to constrict the adamant hiccups. He was muttering something too quick for Japan to understand… but something in him- something in his heart- pulled at him, telling him to say something at least.

Anything…

"England-san…" Japan licked his chapped lips and sighed, "England-san lives alone now and China-san has changed in many ways… I won't tell you to change, nor will I tell you to be yourself. But I will tell you to adapt… because there's nothing else you can do."

Because China is going to remain communist and England is not as strong as he used to be. Because times are changing and wars are played differently than they used to be played. Because the world has changed, people have adapted and the past is already set and done.

Hong Kong looked away, eyes running over the icy pond and for a moment Japan felt the boy was going to simply walk away.

But Hong Kong nodded slowly before reluctantly meeting his eyes, "thanks."

It wasn't much, Japan knew that, but at least it was something and perhaps… perhaps that was what Hong Kong was looking for the whole time. The silence stretched as Hong Kong slowly continued nodding and Japan remained standing, awkwardly in the middle of his bare, icy forest.

"You've been promoted on my hate-o-meter," he never knew he'd be so relieved to see that annoying grin on the teens face, even if it was slightly worn out, "right above Hyung-Soo but under Russia."

"I find it quite hard to believe that you prefer Russia-san over me," Japan found himself pointlessly smiling.

"Russia's got cute sisters," shrugged Hong Kong. "Don't worry though, you're still far from the top." Hong Kong ran a hand into his pockets and pulled out a small crumpled piece of paper.

Japan blinked, taking the paper from the teen's cold hands… a plane ticket. To Beijing.

"We can make this year, like, worth it… and stuff."

For once, he actually agreed with the man. "Yes…" he felt his lips tugging, "we can."


AN: This chapter was meant to be half of what I posted just now... I even had the author's note ready with the whole 'I'm abandoning this story... jk, jk' bit but... oh well, I'll use that somewhere else.

Being from two different countries myself- though not as severely different as England and China are like poor Hong Kong has it- it does get a bit confusing and a bit heart wrenching at times (or that's what I feel anyway XD). So, though Hong Kong is part of China, it developed and flourished under British rule (hence, he grew under England) so Xiang/Leon is a part of both worlds yet really doesn't know where he fits. He where the "East meets West" so he's stuck in a limbo in the very in the middle.

Apart from that, it must be a bit frazzling to be taken from one side of the world (China) to the other side of the world (England) then back to the other side of the world (Japan) then back to that other side you were previously with (England) before you were handed over to where you were initially from anyway (China). So... the poor guy's had it rough.