Author's Note: Hello everyone! Would you all believe me if I told you that there's one chapter left? I knew this story was going to be a bit longer than A Very Asian New Year (I need an abbreviation for that -_-) but I didn't expect it to end so soon xD However, due to the upcoming ending of A Very Asian Vacation (Dun dun duuun), a third Asian fic will be posted (a sequel to the sequel) to wrap our Asians up in a nice, neat little parcel! So, my Asian fics are officially a TRILOGY! :D
Either way! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
A Very Asian Vacation
It rained and so, he found himself sitting opposite China in the living room, getting extra helpings on a pre-dinner meal.
"This one has a secret Chinese ingredient," China said importantly as he moved a bit of the noodles from Japan's bowl and replaced it with some stir-fry. "Makes the flavor of the vegetables more pronounced, aru."
"Arigato-"
"This one has an extra ingredient that I personally use," China added a thick sauce over the side of the noodles, "no two bowls of this taste the same- each one has it's own characteristics, aru."
"Yes, thank you."
"This one has another ingredient- secret, aru- that makes the colours more appealing to the eater," China added a few pieces of chicken seasoned with herbs. "Also, the smell is stronger, isn't it? You can almost feel Beijing when you eat it, aru."
"Hai. I agree."
"I also have another bowl right here…"
Japan would've whimpered then and there. He was close to getting bloated and he was sure he'd have no room for dinner. The moment China stepped in and found him in the kitchen, trying to steam some rice, did he pull him into the living room and tell him to wait. He returned with a tray laden with different bowls and plates and pitchers, treating him to the different cuisines of China while his older brother went on and on about the secrecy of his cooking. It was delicious, Japan had to admit- not as good as sushi, though- but he just couldn't stomach anymore.
But telling that to an exuberant China… He really hadn't the heart.
"We're having dinner?" Korea appeared by the doorway.
He must've just finished bathing since his hair was sopping wet, hanging over his face in a rather cool fashion that Korea would normally never achieve.
"I'll start dinner now, actually, aru," China heaved himself up, giving a loud sigh as he stretched his back. "Anything you want-"
"KIMCHI!" Korea exclaimed. "Don't forget the kimchi!"
China scowled yet waddled out of the room. Japan wondered if he could get up as well and take his leave, hiding in his room until he was called down for dinner. Korea, though, had other plans. He plopped himself opposite the Japanese and gripped him from the arm, pulling him back into his seat.
"So, what have you been doing here all by yourself, Nihon?"
"Reading."
"Tokyo Kinky isn't exactly educational," Hong Kong drawled as he made his nonchalant appearance.
"Oooooh Nihon, what happened to honour, da-ze!"
"Probably never had it."
He was definitely going to take his leave.
Hong Kong's face was slightly burnt. His cheeks were much redder from the sun, giving him a very boyish look. As his large bowl of noodles, vegetables, seasonings, chicken and who-knows-what was dominated over by the his two brothers, Japan took it as a free ticket to wander out of the living room and find himself some peace. He left the newspaper here somewhere…
"Ah, Japan!" Thailand appeared. "Where did you run off to, ana~?"
"I wasn't feeling very well," Japan mumbled his excuse. "I preferred to rest rather than stay under the sun."
"Ahh," Thailand nodded. "The sun does get to your head sometimes, doesn't it? By the way, I haven't heard from Vietnam in a while… do you know how she's been?"
"Vietnam-san?" Japan blinked. That's odd. "I believe she's fine. Last I saw her was during the new year."
"Right, right," Thailand laughed. "Of course."
"Is something the matter with her?"
"Hm? I don't think so- well, I hope not. Just asking about how she is, that's all," Thailand explained. He fidgeted slightly before shaking his head, "are you on your way up?"
"Yes."
"Do you mind putting these incense sticks into one of the bathroom drawers?"
He took the box of lavender candles and an extra bag of vanilla wax. Thailand, in his usual cheery smile, thanked him and walked into the living room while Japan made his way upstairs. The lights were dimmed to give a very comforting night, casting a sheet of relaxed drowsiness over the house. However, he could hear the rumbling chatter of Hong Kong, Korea and possibly even Thailand, yet it was more of contentment than a nuisance.
A bathroom door was ajar by his room, and he pushed in-
Taiwan.
"G-Gomenasai- Uh- I deeply apologize- I didn't know- watashi wa nakatta aidea o- um-"
His fingers were shaking manically and his face threatened to burst into flames. He got to his senses and realized that he was still in the bathroom before he dashed out and slammed the door shut. His breathing was shallow- heavy- and he couldn't even see straight. A cold douse of fear gripped him from the centre of his stomach, making him feel sick.
He pushed himself against the door and hastened into his own room, running a hand through his hair with quivering fingers. He lowered himself onto his bed with a loud groan as frustration built up inside him.
What had he done?!
God, what was wrong with him?
Why didn't he knock?! Why didn't he ask if anyone was there instead of barging in-
He took in a shuddering breath, trying to gain control of the scattered thoughts in his scattered mind. He stared drily at the wall in front of him, the silence pounding against his eardrums. He could hear nothing but his breaths.
She was undressed.
Wet and half-naked.
Japan bit at his lip and clenched his eyes shut. He could see her clearly in the back of his mind- see her clearly as though it were stuck on his eyelids, forcing him to face the impropriety of his actions-
He couldn't face her again.
"NIHON! COME DOWNSTAIRS! NIHON! NIII-HON!"
A faint ringing in his ears blocked Korea's incessant voice, leaving him in a thumping stillness in his lukewarm bedroom. He could hear a voice, in the back of his mind, reminding him to stay still and simply breath- to not lose any control of himself. He couldn't burst into panic-
"God, Nihon, are you bloody deaf?" Hong Kong slammed the door open. "You're gonna have to set up the table with us-" Hong Kong paused.
Japan almost jumped- something completely surprising that Hong Kong's eyes widened a fraction on his burnt, boyish face. He eyed him from head to toe shamelessly, a slight disturbed twinge on his brow, before he edged forward and poked the older nation on the shoulder apprehensively.
"Hey, you alright?"
"Hai," Japan nodded slowly. "Hai, I'm fine."
Hong Kong winced slightly, "was it something I said?"
There was sincerity in his voice that shook Japan out of his thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
Hong Kong's concerned face was quickly masked, and he was once again indifferent. "Nothing, just come on downstairs. Gramps can, like, deny all he wants, but he needs help with dinner."
Every time something clicked or moved, Japan's eyes would snap towards the doorway.
He helped with the chopping under China's watchful, eagle eyes. China insisted on a particular way for the vegetables to be cut to release more flavor and had a nasty habit of forcing Japan to repeat if the carrot wasn't diagonal enough or the cabbage wasn't as thin as he liked. Korea bounced about in his usual energetic self, 'helping' in his own inconvenient way while Thailand chattered pleasantly in the background on things no one really cared about. Hong Kong had disappeared, even though he was strictly on table duty.
"Taiwan says she's like, not feeling good, so she isn't coming down," said Hong Kong, reentering with a tower of plates balancing quite nicely on his head.
China almost had a panic attack, launching himself towards the casual teen, screeching at him to hold the plates like a human instead of risk breaking them and killing all of them with stray glass.
Japan felt his throat clench.
After sending Hong Kong (who looked oddly triumphant) to sit down and simply not help for the night, China huffed by the doorway, his gaze worriedly on the staircase.
"I'll make her some Chinese herbal tea-"
"Secret, I presume?" Hong Kong piped.
"Don't mock the traditions of your ancestors, baichi!"
"Hey Nihon, are you alright?" Korea thumped him on the back.
He was already feeling nauseous and Korea's unexpected thwack reduced him to an intense, surprised coughing fit before he threw a sharp kick at the Korean's feet.
"I hope you're not falling ill as well," Thailand said concernedly.
"No, I'm fine," Japan shook his head, gently pushing the Thai's outstretched hand. "I just need a bit of rest."
"Not you too, aru!" China screeched from where he stood with a steaming glass of tea. "I didn't cook all this for nothing!"
"Don't worry gramps, Korea and I can totally handle it," Hong Kong said sagely.
"Ne! With honour, da-ze!"
He slept fitfully. It was hot and sticky, sweat clinging to his neck and forehead, making it too unpleasant to even remain asleep. He'd fall into darkness before springing back up, facing the underside of Korea's bed. He wanted to lower the dial of the AC, but felt too languid to move. He debated praying for the Korean to wake up, cause a clatter, and shuffle towards the controller himself instead of Japan.
Eventually, though, he did succumb to sleep.
Something he regretted.
Tap
Tap
Tap
He stalked down the vast halls, the moon sending in cold sheens of icy silver through the high-arching windows. The golden buttons of his uniform glinted maliciously in the light while the blackness of his shirt blended with the shadows he stalked through. He could feel the heaviness over his back and the thick, gruesome burden of imperial pride hang from his shoulders, billowing by his shins.
There was a dark fury engulfing him. A hissing, seething, searing anger that threatened to crack under his skin.
He stopped.
Shadows held their breaths.
"Taiwan."
She looked up at him, her eyes stained with tears and blood.
"I-," her voice was a horrified whisper. Her eyes were wide and dry and stained, unable to comprehend and unable to understand. "I-"
"I strictly told you to never enter this-"
"How…"
"I strictly told you to never enter this room."
She barely heard him, her wide eyes trailing off onto the empty, bare ceiling. She winced slightly, as though jerking away an incessant fly, before slowly looking at him directly.
"He's sick," she whispered. "He's so sick."
Her fingers, light and nimble and trembling, moved from the boy's arm onto his forehead. She brushed away his choppy bangs with those quivering hands as tears began to dribble down her eyes and onto his massacred, scarred face.
Hong Kong barely flinched.
If it wasn't for the guttural noise in his throat as he breathed through swollen, constricted airways, he could've been a ravaged corpse. His chest was too thin to show any proof of motion through his stained shirt and his mouth was dry and chapped and too pained to even move.
"I…" Taiwan's voice was lost amidst her shock. "He's so…"
Japan clenched his fist.
He could feel all that searing rage threatening to burst- all that pent up anger ready to lash upon the next thing that moved. He was exhausted and he was not in the mood for any of her pleads for something that was completely worthless in his eyes.
"I strictly forbade you to enter this wing," he said quietly. Warningly.
"But-"
He stalked into the room, the smell of blood and sickness slamming against his nose, and gripped her from her thin arm. He jerked her upwards, her surprised- or was it pained?- yelp stinging him ever so slightly, before he dragged her out of the room forcefully. He dragged her, his grip like iron, past the cold hallways and down the darkened corridors until they were back into the hostility of his room. He threw her in, his fingers clenching back into bleeding fists the moment he let go, and slammed the door shut. He hissed, closing his eyes to regain his composure, before glowering at her.
"What were you doing there?"
"He's starving…" Taiwan stared at the empty wall ahead of her, talking more to herself than to Japan. "His skin- it's… it's plague." Her hands slowly reached up to her face, cupping her stained cheeks in panicked disbelief. Her pale, shocked face crumpled. "I- I t-thought… I-"
"I strictly-"
An ear-splitting shriek. She screamed.
She screamed and collapsed into a fit of breathless, harsh sobbing, her eyes shining with a terrified, hysterical and frenzied radiance. Her whole body shook and her weeps were becoming more inhuman by the second, louder and louder until his entire room was resounding with it's abnormal echoed. Japan winced, his bleeding palm pulsing.
"Taiwan-" his voice cracked.
Her voice plummeted against his ears. He could see chaos- flashes of carnage- and the steel slice of a clean blade into screeching mothers on foreign streets. He could see the blood pouring like rivers, his boots stained and his skin bleached, and could see those dark, dark eyes glaring at him with so much abhorrence it made his skin crawl. He could see flames engulf that small house of bamboo, searing against the childhood innocence he had destroyed, and the crackling of the fire replaced with China's distressed shouts.
Her screams stopped- and so did the chaos.
However, her fingers gripped at the front of his shirt like daggers.
He jerked backwards- completely taken by surprise, completely off his guard- and held her shoulders instinctively lest she fell. She was so small under his hands- flighty and thin and frail- and the tears that dripped down her face wrenched guiltily at his heart. He hated seeing her like this. She was his treasure- his prized colony- the jewel of his empire… she held a special place in his heart that he liked to keep locked up, savoring it only for the small times he'd like to see her smiling under the cherry blossoms or listening to trickling streams by the gardens.
"H-how can you do something like that?" she said. "You'd n-never- never-"
"It's something you don't understand," his voice was as icy as the emptiness in his room. "You're still a child-"
"I'm not a child!" She shrieked. "I'm- I'm not a child!" she was hysterical. "I'm n-not a child- you're killing him!"
He grit his teeth.
He hated it. He hated the concern that was laced into her lips. The tears that dripped for the pain Hong Kong was in and not because for Japan's own demise. He hated the fact that his treasure had her heart burning because of the scars of a worthless destroyed island- an island ruled under a western fist, his language laced with western words and his system laced with western stains.
"That is none of your concern."
She winced. It was so sharp it looked as though he had hit her.
"You were never like this," she trembled. "You- you were never like this."
He kept his composure. He stared at her frenetic, distraught form with hooded, clouded eyes.
"It's for the good of the Empire."
"But they're family- our family. How can- how can you-"
"They're not my family," he spat. It was harsh and vicious and spiteful. "I've had enough- head to your room."
But Taiwan didn't move. He turned away, undoing the buttons of his uniform brutally and whipping the belt off his waist. He didn't hear the shuffling of her dress as she'd leave to room or her whimpering, shocked breaths. He heard plummeting silence that was once again broken by the stubborn girl.
"Am I not your family?"
He stopped.
"You've lost your mind," she said softly, tears dripping. "You've lost all your senses. You can't see what's real anymore."
They haunted the house like shadows.
He could hear Hong Kong's guttural coughs, staring down at the boy who vomited blood across the glimmering white floor. His skin was marred and ugly; his face thin and contorted into a vicious mask of pain. He didn't know why, but he felt so angry all the time. Even though victory was reigning across the east, he felt furious.
He didn't relent and he didn't bring any mercy. If they couldn't survive, then it was their incompetence- their weakness. If they couldn't survive, then it was a good riddance of a vile, lowly race. A perishing of worthlessness. A cleaning up of dirt and dust.
Or so he told himself.
He would wash his hands. He'd wash and wash and wash, yet the red still stained. He lathered in boiling water- he scrubbed his fingers raw- yet the red glared and glowered. He hid them under gloves, yet he could smell it- pungent and rotten as the plagued puke on his pearly floors.
His woman came to him that night.
A whore. A prostitute. A young girl kidnapped from the land of their fathers to commit the highest of honors.
Or so they told him.
Or so he told himself.
He wouldn't care what she looked like or where she was from. He didn't care if she was marred with bruises or had skin as soft as rain. He didn't care if she sobbed underneath him or moaned so guiltily it made the hairs on his back stand. He just released the pent up vehemence- that distraught disturbance that crawled over his mind like scorpions- those thoughts that tore his head apart and burnt across his skin like jagged knives-
But she was soft, this girl.
Far too soft.
Her fingers were frail and nimble and her shoulders were small underneath his palm. She smelt familiar- like flowery blossoms underneath a soaking, spring sky- and her sobs were more fear than pain. Usually he wouldn't care- he'd continue until he satiated- but this time… this time he stopped.
He stopped, hovering over that small body beneath him, shadowed under the darkness. He could hear her shuffle, her kimono like broken wings by her bare sides, and hear an unstable breath. The moon decided to glide tantalizingly by the window, shedding its icy lights into the room-
He stumbled away-
His heart throttled his throat and his stomach was gored with pain-
He retched.
He woke up with a jolt, sweating, coughing and spluttering.
Korea, wide-eyed and pale with fear, shook his shoulder.
"Kiku? What's wrong-"
Bile was rising up his throat.
He pushed past his brother and staggered off the bed. He raced to the bathroom, slamming onto a few corners in his blind blundering, before throwing himself at the toilet seat and retched. He puked bitterness, vomited sickness and heaved until he had gagged himself dry. Only when he swallowed and fell back did he realize that Korea was rubbing soothing circles around his back…
And that his arms were desecrated and bleeding.
"What happened?"
"Nothing." His voice was shaking. He felt despicable. "It's nothing."
"Nothing and you woke up half-dying, da-ze?!" Korea's exclamation was loud and high-pitched, driving needles through Japan's ears.
He felt a throbbing headache thump at the base of his forehead, making him groan and shut his eyes. He swayed slightly, on the spot, before he felt his brother's arms steady him. His fingers were bony yet firm, reminding Japan of iron bars. It must've been hardened by years of severe labor, destroying the hands that had once been once soft and simple.
"Should I call aniki-"
"Of course not, you idiot!"
Korea blanched. Japan swore. "I deeply apologize. That was rude of me," he swallowed back another plume of bile. "I-"
"Hey, no sweat," Korea said softly. "We're human, it's alright to get annoyed."
He watched his brother's slim back slither out of the door, leaving him in the heavy silence of the room. His clothes were wet with sweat and his sleeves were stained with pungent blood. His nails were cracked and crumpled, a ruined mess on his fingers far too painful to even be real. Korea returned with a handful of small bottles and bandages.
"We'll keep it our secret, eh Nihon," Korea winked.
Japan emptily stared at the wall.
He could feel those hardened fingers wrap the coarse cloth, feel the stinging of the antiseptic and took in the scent of the disinfectant that pierced up his sinuses.
"Was it a nightmare?"
"It was nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing," Korea held the edge of the bandage with his lips, a scissor in hand. "What was it about?"
"Nothing."
"I'm experienced with these things, da-ze," Korea said matter-of-factly. "Best thing is to let it all out."
Japan's lip quivered. He bit at it. God, he was acting ridiculous. Man up, he reprimanded himself. Don't show such weakness, it's disgraceful.
"I apologize for my inconvenience."
"I'm not accepting it unless you tell me," Korea crossed his legs, grabbing Japan's other bleeding arm, dabbing the blood away with a wet cloth.
"I'd rather not speak of it," he said bitingly.
"Come on, Nihon!" Korea whined. "Keeping it bottled doesn't do any good! If you want to keep it a one time thing, you should express it!"
"Korea, I don't want-"
"Nihon-"
"Enough!"
"Enough!" his voice resounded against the emptiness of the vast room, mockingly chanting off the walls, "enough."
He could see them like a picture shadowed by the fading of its memory, standing: thin, and weak and cold… tired and angry and exhausted. Eyes ringed by oppression and faces marred by cruelty.
"Nihon?" Korea leant slightly, trying to peer up into the hollow eyes of his Japanese brother. There was something quite… abnormal in them. "Is… is everything alright-"
"It's nothing," Japan's voice was a strangled whisper. "It's- it's nothing-"
"Nothing. We did nothing!" Korea's face had been desperate.
Japan remembered slapping him, straight across the face, his palm throbbing from the pain of its force. Blood splattered against the beige walls in furious red, like blasphemed war paint. He struck out his hand, clasping the attacking arm of his twin, and pinned him against the wall, staining his strained back with the blood.
"Whatever we do is our concern-"North had said bitingly.
"Your concern?" he had scoffed. "And who do you think you are to have concerns?"
"We have the right-"
His grip tightened, locking around the man's throat.
"I'll repeat what I said," he threw a seething glare at the man by his feet, "only once. Separate rooms, separate buildings. You are not to be seen together."
"Nihon-"
Japan sprung from the bed, stumbling away in panicked turmoil, almost toppling over from a wayward chair. The room was teetering, and the frightened face of Korea was doubling in his gaze, splitting like phantoms ready to surround him. His back was pressed against the cold, unyielding wall, his ruined nails digging against the wood that he could hear them crack and grate and crumble further into ruin.
"Japan, it's alright-" Korea brought a hand towards him.
"P-please," she whispered, her finger at his shoulders, lowering down his spine. "I-I'll help you. So that y-you don't hurt them anymore-"
Shee was like a broken doll. Her eyes that once held the spring were now like a fathomless abyss of winter. Her voice that once held so much emotion was flat and ruined. He felt suffocated with every word she said, as though she were drowning him further into a sea of his own sins- throttling him- choking him-
"Shut up," he whispered. He gripped his head with his nails.
"W-what-"
"Shut up!"
Insane.
Absolutely insane.
Her throat was under his iron fingers- her body arching painfully against him-
He was screaming. Shouting. About what, he had no idea… he could just see her eyes, threatening to bulge out of her head with pain and disbelief and smell blood clog up his noise. She was spluttering- guttural- heaving-
He pushed her away, staggering backwards, almost collapsing-
He could see them- see their eyes accusingly glaring at him-
His hands were stained and bleeding, the red oozing out painfully between his fingers-
The shadows laughed-
Mei cried-
Korea watched in disturbed confusion, backing away slightly from his quaking brother whose nails dug clawed into his forehead. Blood dripped down his cheeks from his scratched scalp and harsh whispers escaped his bitten lips. However, Korea stopped, feeling his heart shatter when tears starting dripping down Japan's porcelain face.