this is a short little thing i wrote for my friend amy (laveniis on ) a while ago. i figured i may as well post it now, so, yeah
"Play with me, onii-chan!" A young boy insisted, tugging at his big brother's hand, dark eyes directed up to the older man. China chuckled slightly and crouched, patting Japan's head softly, fingers dwindling between dark strands of his hair. "It's getting a little late, don't you think? It'll be dark soon."
"Onii-chan.." Japan murmured in a whine, clenching his fingers on China's sleeve. Despite the dark creeping over the landscape, there was still a little time for play.
"Aiyaa, you're such a silly child. What would you like to play? Knock the stick?" This exchange of words was received and addressed with a nod and a quiet 'Hai!'.
The older brother nodded and stepped off the porch to the yard, picking up three varied sticks from around the garden. He gave the smaller one to Japan, who took it with a small smile and made his way to face China, four of five steps back. The younger nation did as he knew to do for this game, drawing a line in the dirt, China doing the same on his side. At last, the third stick was placed in the middle, ready for the game to start.
The two played for a little while, China going easy against his cherished little brother, allowing him to win a few times. It was at the fifth round that it had become almost too dark to see. "Come Japan, it's late."
"Onii-chan, look at the moon!" The child murmured. China turned around to gaze up at the night sky's light.
"It's a full moon tonight. It's beautiful, isn't it?" He turned to smile at Japan, but the grin quickly vanished from his features. Instead of the little child, a grown man, a grown nation stood, sword drawn.
None of this was new. Old recollections of memories stored away blurred together, China's head was throbbing. Yet he was glued to the spot, body stiff. He couldn't even look away as Japan's weapon struck him, not at his back like what had happened in reality. This time, straight through the heart. Because really, the separation of himself and his beloved little brother was what shattered his heart into tiny little pieces.
China awoke, sweat beading on his skin.
The old nation's weary eyes opened to a hospital room, be his vision blurred by the puddling tears in his eyes. An IV drip was attached to one of his arms, his hand held by the Russian beside him, who spoke what was only heard as an incomprehensible mess of words.
After a little while, Russia's words began to make sense. Something along the lines of 'you were in a coma, they said it was shock' and 'I was so worried' reached his ears. China could form no words of his own, all he could really do was clutch his hand to his chest, over his heart. Even though the scar on his back was deep, it had healed. The wound in his heart, however, was there forever.