11. Broken spirit.
Trigger Warning: Transphobia, usage of a deadname, WWII made people into assholes.
Japan, ever dignified in demeanor and grace and manners, held out a cup of tea towards South Korea. South Korea looked at it as though it were poisoned. That is so strange. Kiku wouldn't go to such underhanded methods of poisoning a tea to a guest. Still...the Korean obviously had something important to say, and Japan knew that he should clear the air before things and tensions mounted.
"Is tea not to your liking," Japan said as he took his own cup of tea and began to drink. "Or would you prefer filthy water like your people in your land? Of course, mayhaps your brains have been addled too long without strict rules and discipline."
South Korea looked out the window. He then spoke in Japanese that was perfectly fluent "When can I go home?"
Ah, that question. Kiku let out a long suffering sigh, before he set his tea cup down and observed the Korean more thoroughly. Was he not happy here, in his house? Didn't Japan teach him the proper way of doing things? How utterly ungrateful! He was the elder brother, after all, and he would strike Yong Soo if Yong Soo showed any sign of rebellion or rejection of the Japanese culture and way.
Yong Soo looked dead. Tired. His eyes reddened and he didn't touch his food. Japan provided a nice house for him to live in and food too, and yet Korea rejected every single thing that he did for him. How was this acceptable? As the older brother, it was his duty—no, it was his right—to exert control over a younger brother who didn't know any better.
Korea remained silent. Still staring at the cup as though Japan poisoned it. Perhaps Japan might've been tempted to at one point, to cause the country some suffering for the former rebellion that they tried to cause against the older brother.
"I want you to call me Kiku-onii-sama," Kiku said with sharp, hard eyes. "And I shall call you Eun Jung."
Korea visibly reacted to that name. Vitality returned to his face and eyes as Korea stood so suddenly, fists clenching and unclenching. However, Japan simply drank his tea. Seems like he could get some reaction out of South Korea after all.
"You still don't find it fit to talk to your older brother, little sister?" Japan said mockingly.
South Korea trembled. His fists clenched and Japan swore he saw some half moon crescents where the nails dug into the flesh.
"Don't…" South Korea said, anguish in his voice. "Call me by that name."
"I will call you Yong Soo, then, if you do something for me," Japan said. "Take out that flower that you're growing in a pot in your room."
"The mungunghwa?" South Korea said.
"Yes," Kiku said, his eyes hardening. "I want it taken out of your room and replaced with a chrysanthemum."
Korea gritted his teeth. Japan, stood up, folding his sleeves together, and put a hand against Korea's cheek. "It would provide me some comfort if you grew another flower instead of...that filthy little weed."
"You take me in your room," Korea said bitterly, in Japanese. "Whispering obscenities into my ear that I'm nothing more than a filthy whore."
"But you are a filthy little harlot," Japan said. "Filthy, just like that filthy weed in your room. Corrupted."
South Korea looked towards him with something very akin to hatred on his face. Japan reveled in it, because he could feel his own blood pressure rising and the room was starting to feel claustrophobic. Exerting control over Korea, trying to monitor everything he ate and drank and what books he read—he would have none of that trash that Korea liked to read. He would write in Japanese, read Japanese literature, fight for the Japanese cause and nation. His own feelings on the matter didn't matter, the people within Japan collectively said within him. Japan wondered how, when he suppressed his feelings, how he sometimes let the voices of his people take over, and maybe one time Korea had been a beloved brother once, but now...now things are different. His people's voices clamored for Japanese nationalism and to spread the glory of the nation to the four corners of the world, and anyone who resisted that dream, that Japan would become an empire that was powerful and unquestioned—Kiku lusted in that power. Didn't every country want to spread the legacy of their nation, to write down heroic deeds and valor and the glory of war and conquest! To the spoils the victors, they said. And Korea was just one of the spoils of war that he acquired, and if he must force Korea to submit to him using force, he would.
"You understand your position very well, Korea," Japan said. "You're nothing but a paper cup. Disposable after use. That damned flower better be out of your room."
Korea remained silent.
"Korea will not remain silent about this," South Korea said. "You took my people and forced them into your army, to fight your battles. You took my women and made them your comfort women. What more do you want to take from me, Japan? What more do you want Korea to give before it breaks under you? But I will let you know this, Kiku. I may be in your house. I may follow your rules. I may, at times, even give you my body. But you will never. And I say this for emphasis: you will never win my heart or my soul."
Kiku raised a hand and slapped Korea against the cheek. That was the lightest punishment that he could give him, really. Korea looked shocked at first, but he stared at Kiku with an expression that he found completely unacceptable. Korea looked at him wrong, looking at Japan, his glorious nation, like he were a mere cockroach underneath his heel. How dare he! How dare Korea make a mockery of Japan and it's greatness! The nationalism within Japan rose, and Japan the human inside numbed his emotions because the clamoring voices were too much and when swept in the tides of nationalistic fervor a country had no choice but to listen. Maybe some part of Japan knew this was wrong, that he was doing something absolutely unforgiveable and if he pressed further than there would be a relationship that would be broken into several unreparable pieces, but Kiku...Kiku would not give up his dream, of purity and bloodlines and the descendants of the Sun itself. The land where the sun rose, shining red, red, red like blood, and Kiku saw blood, and eventually he found himself strangling South Korea, but Korea did not cry out or even tell him to stop. That's how it happened sometimes, that Japan would physically 'reprimand' Korea but it never led to strangling before, but that damned flower was so irritating and symbolic of something that meant Korea would not be stamped out, and it was this form of small rebellion and spirit that made Japan so, so, so angry.
"You're testing my patience," Japan said, feeling detached from his body and letting himself swim in the pride of his people. The pride of his people, the love for his people, the wish to protect and serve them always—he would not let them be insulted!
"The flower stands for immortality," Korea said in between gasping breaths, before Kiku released him, breathing heavily. "A country never dies as long as it's people lives, but go ahead, strangle me, Kiku. It makes you satisfied, doesn't it? Even more than my body does, doesn't it?"
Kiku raised a hand as though to hit Korea again. Korea stood unflinching in the face of his oppressor, and Japan simply went and took a kettle of boiling hot tea from the pot and started pouring it on Korea's head, letting tea slosh down through his hair and dribble down his face and yet Korea still stared at him with those damnable eyes. That he was nothing. That really, looking at him like Kiku never meant anything to South Korea—honestly, it should be Japan that was looking down upon Korea! Kiku was only hospitable and gave Korea all the comforts of Japanese food, learning, and nationalistic pride. Why wouldn't he bend and accept!
"Your body," Kiku said. "Is only an outlet in a sea of frustration, Korea. I've had better. But because you're available and cheap, I will take whatever I can. I give and I give and I give yet you refuse everything. I will not accept such bad manners or an insult to my country or people. May the glory of Japan be a reminder that it's because of me that you're worth anything!"
"I hate you," South Korea said in a low voice. "Korea will never bend to you. Make me bow, Japan."
"If this is not enough to humble you," Kiku said, his face distorted into a rare mask of anger. "Then lick up all the spilled tea on the floor. Lick it all up, then beg for my forgiveness."
Korea gave Japan a dirty look, before finally going back to his room. Japan stood there for a few moments, taking in the rebellion that Korea just showed. He would teach Korea later what respect and manners really meant. But for now, as the tea cooled on the floor, Japan simply threw the cup he had been drinking from until it shattered against the wall.