They went down deeper and deeper. The air became much colder, so much so that they could see their breath in the air around them.
The Asians all peered curiously at their surroundings.
The walls that surrounded them seemed to be paper. However, when touched, it was revealed to them that they were painted over bricks. It was truly impressive that someone was able to do this in such a short amount of time. In addition, while they were walking, the group tried to open several doors. None budged. As they continued, they realized that the doors that they traveled through were opening automatically, leading them through the halls.
Once they figured this out, the nations each placed a hand on their weapons and continued forwards more cautiously.
In a room deep underground, Yao smiled in pride.
The door before them opened, the group of five siblings tensing in anticipation. Light streamed through and slowly, ever so slowly, Japan led them into the bright room. As they became used to the light, they noticed several things.
First, were the number of weapons all around them. The decor was second, paintings and sword rakes lining the walls. The floor was a dark brown wood and there was a mat in the middle of the room for sparing. But it was the person kneeling directly in the center of the mat that caught their attention.
China analytically watched as they tensed upon noticing his presence. He then stood up from his position and crossed his arms. A tiny smirk came over his features and the nation tapped his chin mockingly.
"Well, well, well," China drawled, "What do we have here? Little boys and girls that can't find their way back home aru?" A dark chuckle came from his lips as he turned around. The oldest nation made his way over to one of the weapon stands and gently drew his finger across the flat part of one of the blades. Japan's eyes narrowed and his hand twitched towards the handle of his katana. China's head looked slyly over his shoulder at them, the maniacal grin that had become his trademark over the course of the war spreading over his face.
"What is this? Nothing to say~?"
"Please Yao," Taiwan pleaded, "We don't want to fight!" A dark glint flashed through China's eyes, the orbs glowing red for a split second. Swiftly, the oldest nation pulled the blade off of the rake by its sharp tip and flung it at them. The siblings jumped out of the way. The sword imbedded itself into the wall, a loud clang echoing throughout the room.
China's eyes gleamed brilliant red in the room. As he licked the wound where the blade had cut him as he threw it, a feeling of dread had come over Japan.
Yao's eyes.
They had been brown before Taiwan had called him by his human name.
"You had lost the honor to call me by that name ever since this war began!"
With a snarl, China grabbed two of the Korean fans from another rake and rushed them.
Yao leapt back from his attack, breathing heavily. Blood dripped off his body from the cuts in his flesh, the rest of his military jacket as well as the shirt he had been wearing lying in tatters on the floor. Before him, the nation's younger siblings were also in similar condition. Thailand had a cut across his cheek from where the tip of the fan sliced him. Taiwan had several bruises from when the Chinese man had flung her into one of the weapons rakes. Hong Kong was lying unconscious on the other side of the room, Korea struggling to his feet beside him. Japan was the only one who remained more or less unscathed.
Outwardly, the mask the nation showed was one of pure lunacy. Inwardly, however, Yao was a mess.
He could feel that side coming back to the surface once more, that side that destroyed millions of civilian homes during his push for more land. The side that took opium. The side that wanted everyone to just die and never come back.
He was afraid.
He was afraid of what that side would do to his siblings, the ones he raised. The ones he took care of. The ones he loves. So, Yao did the only thing he could think of doing.
Yao ran. He dropped the fans to the floor with a clatter and ran.
And Japan chased after him.
Feliciano couldn't stop the tears. The nations before him stood stalk still and watched as the tears ran down the Italian's cheeks.
"Never, never, never coming back," he mumbled continuously. Sparks came from the hole in the keyboard. His honey brown eyes were blank and unseeing as he stared at the ground before him.
"Italy..." The Italian's head snapped up and he glared murderously at France. The man was reaching towards him.
"You were the one to kill him..." At this, the French man stiffened.
"You killed him... You killed Holy Rome... I'll kill you..." France's eyes widened. Feliciano let the knives in his sleeves fall into his hands.
"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL SLICE YOU UP INTO A MILLION PIECES!"
Alfred was panting as he turned another corner. His footsteps echoed loud enough so that the nations chasing him could easily follow him.
"I need to give them time... We need more time..."
Yao ran through the maze, his breath heavy and his eyes watering from tears that he struggled to hold back. The nation quickly climbed the ladder, pushing open the wooden doors into the shed. He then kicked the shed door open and the Asian stumbled into his backyard. With a hurried glance around, Yao turned to the bamboo trees and fled further and further away.
He finally stopped at a clearing, panting, bending over, hands on his knees. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face from his prior exertion. Then, the bile in his throat came up and the nasty juices of his stomach struggled to throw up what he hadn't had for breakfast. Once he finished, Yao sank down to his knees, weary. He readjusted his position so that he was sitting and he curled up as best he could.
"Yao-nii." The nation froze. It didn't take a genius to realize that Japan had found him.
So, he just pretended that he hadn't heard him.
"Yao-nii." His cursed name was repeated and the Chinese man gritted his teeth. The nation could hear the soft sound of his younger brother's footsteps as they padded closer over the grass and stopped right in front him. The sound of a click made him slowly look up. The nation found himself staring down the end of the barrel of a gun. He sneered.
"What?" Japan stared at him, his dull brown eyes sad. Yao blew his bangs out of his eyes.
"Well? Aren't you going to shoot? You can end my part of this war right here and right now, you know." Japan's hand shook. The sound of running made Yao glance behind his younger brother. Their other siblings came to a halt. The sound of something hitting the ground turned his attention back to Japan. He flinched in surprise when the normally expressionless nation hugged him tightly.
"W-What-?"
"I'm sorry." This made Yao pause, his eyes wide.
"I'm sorry for leaving," Japan continued, "I'm sorry for not calling, for not visiting... I'm sorry..."
Their siblings' faces were grim as Yao watched them in shock.
"I'm sorry for abandoning you. I'm sorry... China... No... I'm sorry... Yao-nii..." The nation in question sat there, frozen. His wide eyes welled up with tears before closing.
"It's okay... Kiku... But... I'm sorry too."
At this, Kiku turned his head. Yao's hand had reached into the pocket of his pants as the tears continued running down his pale cheeks. The Asian siblings gasped as Yao pulled out his detonator. And he smiled the first real smile that they had seen in a long time.
"I hope you know... That I already forgave you all a long time ago... Right aru?"
Kiku saw that Yao's eyes were that soft brown once more.
The Chinese man's thumb pressed down on the trigger.
2 - F, 1 - A, 5 - M, 3 - I, 4 - L, and 9 - Y.
SnK is short for Shingeki no Kyojin, or in English, Attack on Titan.
