Cold.
Icy.
Freezing.
Frozen.
So many words he could use to describe what he was feeling. His lungs were frozen, so cold that his throat burned. His heart was shattered so beyond broken that he could feel the glass-sharp pieces digging into his chest cavity. Mouth speaking words of an anger he didn't feel; another lie to add to his list.
Anger directed at someone he swore he would never raise his hand against, someone he doesn't want to hurt, even if his boss says he must, even if those he is allied with have no hesitation about hurting him.
He knows the air around him isn't freezing cold. It's so warm that most of the allies have abandoned their long sleeves and pants, so hot that the old AC sputters as it tries to provide some relief. He knows no blood is trickling from the area where his broken heart lies.
How strange it was, China thought, that frozen lungs could breathe warm air without cracking.
How strange it was that a shattered heart could keep beating, steady, steady, so steady.
How strange it was that it was so easy to feign hatred for someone he swore to protect, someone he still swears to protect.
But then again, nothing concerning Japan ever made much sense for China.
----
Hot.
Disgusting.
Ruining.
Ruined.
Bloody hands, bloody uniforms, faces turned old before their time splattered with blood, grief, anger. Hatred. A thick overlying scent of iron, a scent he's never going to loose the memory of, something that makes him gag and strengthens his resolve at the same time.
Blood soaked fields, blood painted sky, a crimson sun setting to the west. The west, he thinks. The west is where the one he wishes he could protect lives. He is where the sun rises, the other where the sun falls. Places they are bound to, places bound to hatred for the other, although they are so similar.
He smiles bitterly as he picks his way across the field to his comrades, his allies. One tall, the other shorter, both still taller then he is. One silly in a way he never was, even as a child. One serious in a way he can relate to with far too much ease.
Both out to destroy those he values most, and the allies of that person.
How strange it was, Japan thought, that lungs filled with burning air didn't burst from the heat.
How strange it was that a heart could ache until it broke, yet still pumped blood through his body.
How strange it was that it was so easy to destroy his mentor, teacher, brother, his everything even though his heart screamed for him to stop.
But then again, nothing concerning China ever made much sense for Japan.
----
Bombings tearing lands apart. Houses burning, people mourning, tears a common sight. Hatred, anger, fear all too common of emotions, surrounded by them, awashed in them, people live on with their grief and sorrow.
China feigns hatred and rage, even as his heart breaks further.
Japan destroys everything he can, even as he wishes it wasn't like this.
The allies and axis powers fight on, oblivious and yet noticing China's sadness, depression, anger, fear, hope -so many words, so many that it makes him laugh through his tears- noticing and yet not seeing Japan's unwillingness to admit he is anything less then fine after a battle, after a clash of weapons and anger – so much anger, so much that it makes him laugh through his tears.
War ruins even the best of us.
Anger destroys us.
Fear stomps on our remains.
And hope watches silently.
----
China was human; he admitted it. It didn't matter how long he'd lived, how long he would live, what he'd seen, what he'd done. Didn't matter he was a country, had been alive for thousands upon thousands of years.
A human heart beat in his human chest, a human heart racing with human fear, human longing. A human face flushed by human anger, human tear tracks drying on his human cheeks. Human hands clutching a human gun, aiming it at the one his human heart beats for.
Japan looks stunned, angry, scared. Human emotions for a human face, someone that China never wants to injure. Someone he loves, promised to protect so long ago the memory is blurred at the edges, like an old photograph.
China screams, and drops the gun. Human fear, shock, shame overwhelms him, but he can't shoot. Not now. Not him. Not Japan.
He runs, and doesn't look back.
----
Buildings reduced to rubbish. Trees fried to nothingness. People annihilated where they stood, their footprints a stark white against the pavement. Where they last stood, never to move again, to be gone forever.
Japan is damaged.
Maybe dying, because China remembers that look of absolute horror on his face the moment Japan's side bursts open, and oh dear lord the blood and anger and Japan's paling face and the fear that shot through China like a bullet that it could happen; he could loose Japan-
Japan gives in.
- he's so relieved when he hears those words, even though he shouldn't be, even though Japan lost and is disgraced and ruined and broken and so goddammed broken and not Japan-
Japan surrenders the war.
-he's so happy, even though his happiness came at such a heavy cost, but for right now the others can focus on defeating Germany's boss and Italy's boss because it doesn't matter about them, he has to help Japan, no matter what his boss says-
Japan is defeated.
World War Two has ended.
-and China is so, so grateful as his frozen lungs warm and his shattered heart begins to fix itself, even though this is far from over. Japan's eyes are still cold, and his words still angry, but China hopes time will heal that.
Hope has returned to him now, and it has never tasted sweeter.
----
Author's Note:
Sorry if you dislike this pairing...I just wanted to write it. It was late, and I was really, really bored...so...hope ya all like it somewhat.