America stood outside of Japan's house listening to the gentle sound of the nearby fountain in the garden. He was unsure if he should knock on the wooden door or walk away. America had come to check in on Japan because he had a feeling. America wasn't sure how to explain the feeling, but it was an unsettling one that kept nagging him. But since the end of the Second World War, it was an eternal feeling that loomed over all their interactions- the elephant in the room, to be exact.
The thing they didn't talk about.
Japan never said anything.
So, America felt it was best to do the same.
Sure, he was one who had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but about things that didn't matter.
I should go home. Japan wouldn't want him to drop in unannounced, anyway. But as he turned to leave, America remembered why he was here in the first place. Japan had been acting weird the past few years. Missing meetings, leaving early, and most recently, missing Britain's Christmas party.
After the Second World War ended, no one expected Italy, Germany, or Japan to attend any events for a while; but now, it was years later and Japan was still flaking.
America could theoretically imagine the feeling of losing a war, but there was no reason to be so petty about it! He walked up to the door and gently knocked. "Hey, Japan? Are you in there? It's me, America."
No answer.
The North American country sighed and moved to sit on the front steps. It was possible Japan was out shopping or something, so all he had to do was wait for the other country to come home.
But as America waited, he couldn't shake the feeling that led him here: the feeling something was wrong.
Reluctantly, he once again knocked on the front door.
It was then he heard footsteps come from inside. Annoyed, but walking toward him.
"Yes, America?" Japan's voice asked from the other side of the door. "What do you want?"
"I wanted…" America stopped himself. He wasn't going to burden his friend with his stupid mushy words. Instead, he would keep to the point: "You missed Britain's Christmas party! What gives, bro?"
"I am sorry," Japan said, adding after a pause, "I was tired. I am sorry I let you down."
"Don't be," America understood. "We all need a vacation after all-that's what holidays are for- and stuffing your face full of cake."
He heard the other country laugh a little and could not help but smile. But, there was something else he had to ask. Something America didn't want to ask, but had to know. "Why haven't you been at the world meetings lately? You're invited, you know. Just 'cause you were part of the Axis doesn't mean we hate you. I mean…"
I miss you.
"I know," Japan's voice sounded sad and America wanted to ask what was wrong, but didn't. "I was tired then, too. It's not that I don't want to come to the meetings. I am grateful you don't hate me after what I did."
"I couldn't hate you," America really meant that. He liked Japan. He was gentle, thoughtful and, sometimes, a lot of fun. It was weird to say that Japan was fun, because he was so quiet, but he was always up for an adventure. "If you are tired and want to go to sleep, I can leave if you want. I was just checkin' in, you know?"
"Yes, I know," Japan replied.
"Cool! Well, I will see you soon, then." America stood up and turned to leave when he heard Japan say the one thing he didn't want to hear:
"I am sorry we don't talk anymore."
"What…" America laughed nervously, not daring to turn around. "What do you mean, Japan? We talk. Like lots. I swear my boss is gonna kill me if he has to pay another 100 dollar phone bill. We talk about so much cool stuff! Movies, baseball-"
"About things that matter," Japan cut him off. "Like my fear of letting others in. Your fear no one likes you. Back then, when I was afraid of change, I didn't expect someone like you to care, let alone understand my feelings. Now, we don't talk and…"
"I don't want to talk," America hated to say that- especially to his best friend. "Not about that."
An eerie silence fell over the conversation- the silence America had been avoiding. But he couldn't leave. He wanted to leave, but instead, he found himself sitting down on the front steps once more. "I am sorry we don't talk. It's difficult."
"I know," Japan said, only to fall silent. Just when America thought he should leave again, his friend began to talk about the thing both of them tried to forget. "I was visiting the Red Cross Hospital in Hiroshima that day. My boss wanted me to raise the morale of our people. I was barely inside when a bright light flashed behind me, coming through the windowed doors. A second later, the doors were broken by a pressure, a wind, I cannot explain. It was so sudden, I didn't have time to protect myself- looking back, I do not know if it would have been possible to protect myself. I woke up on the floor, shards of glass in my back. Everyone around me had not been so lucky. So many dead. Patients, nurses, doctors. All in an instant."
"But how could you miss the 'boom'?" America asked, trying to lighten the conversation. "I mean, you must have heard that and tried to duck and cover, right?"
"No." Japan's voice was so harsh, the other country flinched. "That was the part that terrifies me. There was no sound. Only blinding light. I read later, people out at sea heard a thundering 'boom', you might say, but at the hospital, I heard nothing."
"Weird. Kinda cool, though, right?"
"No one else heard anything either," Japan continued, clearly ignoring America's stupid question. "When I woke up, there were only a handful of medical staff able to tend to the wounded. I did all I could to help them, but soon, like many others, I fell ill. I thought at the time, when others began to show signs of sickness, I would be all right as we countries are strange entities- but I was wrong."
He sounded so bitter, America forgot what he wanted to say to divert the conversation.
"… some days I can't escape the scent. It lingers and I find myself gagging. I know I am selfish, America. Like you. I wonder why I think of myself, not the thousands who wandered to the hospital seeking treatment or of the countless dead I saw scattered through the hallways and outside; their bodies burned and injured. No. I remember the putrid smell of my own vomit and the dead around me covered in the same disgusting bile from their unmoving bodies. I can't forget them. I can't forget that long nights in the dark, only an occasional candle lighting the hell I found myself trapped within. And as I lingered in the dark, I blamed you. I hated you. I hated what you did to me, to my people."
"Is that why you haven't come to the world meetings?" America asked, his voice surprisingly soft- as if he actually cared.
"No," Japan wished that was the case. He truly did. "I did not skip the meetings because I hated you. Because, I am tired. Most days, I can barely get out of bed and others I can't. Again, I thought I was different- that the long-term effects of the radiation wouldn't harm me. But like a lot of other Hibakusha, explosion-affected persons, I still feel ill. My wounds don't heal like they once did, I am tired all the time, and I feel so selfish for worrying about my own health when so many of my people feel far worse.
It frustrated him to no end. Japan told himself over and over he shouldn't be worried about himself- he was a country. He would be fine. Even if he did not know when, he would eventually be fin-
The sound of someone knocking on the front door made Japan jump. For a moment he wondered if America had left mid-story and he had been talking to air the last five minutes; but as Japan cautiously opened his front door, he froze.
America was still there. He was standing on the front steps, but as Japan opened his mouth to speak, America did something he never expected: The North American country, hands at his side, bowed deeply before the other.
"I am sorry."
Those were the only words America wanted to say as he stared at the wooden steps of Japan's house. The other country couldn't find a reply, so said nothing. Instead, once America was standing upright again, Japan stepped forward and wrapped his arms around America in a gentle hug.
Thank you.
A/N: I got back into Hetalia, it seems. Then, I felt inspired to write a historical piece about Hiroshima as I read Jack Hersey's book Hiroshima detailing the stories of 6 different survivors and their experiences. I was deeply moved by the book and the people I read about. The Red Cross Hospital was a real location and the events in this fanfic were detailed in the account of Dr. Terufumi Sasaki and the small team of medical professionals who worked tirelessly to help everyone they could. According to the book, the atomic bomb made no sound and was a flash of light to those in the city. Later if I remembered correctly, some fishermen heard a sound. The wind pressure that followed the flash flattened a lot of houses and that in turn started fires, etc. Then, people began to fall ill from acute radiation poisoning, and many who managed to survive suffered from long-term effects of the radiation and burn wounds. If you would like to read more about this, I invite you to read this book and any others regarding this historical event that I feel defines a century.