A friend and I are collaborating on another story on a shared account. It's called 'Our Turbulent Sea of Peace'. On behalf of this new story, I ask you to go find it and R&R, by Seven Thousand, which is us in disguise. Don't ask. :3
Also, I have decided abbreviations for SK and HK are stupid. I might forget that though and abbreviate them anyway, but it feels weird. :P
Review! :D
The memories were gathering, swarming like droves of flies up his legs. He didn't want to fall back into the seamless, never-ending stream. Japan had been around a long, long time, and was still considered young by his older brother. There was no need to become awash.
Or, worse, the memories and the nightmares mixing together as if stirred by a spoon, melding into a howling shriek of madness, 発狂. He would not be able to bear it. It would kill him outright, surer and quicker than any tortures the aliens could conjure up. But maybe that was their point.
The aliens were scarily smart. In his moments of lucidity between the fever heat, he'd analyzed what he'd seen of them while imprisoned and -he flinched, almost- the tortures they improvised. They were scarily smart, with a deep knowledge of psychology, and how did they learn all this? Was it invented on the spot? Japan didn't think so.
Truly, the thought of having these interlopers watch him and his people did not please him. In fact, it sent shivers down his spine.
He closed his eyes, unwilling to think any further on it. Instead, the one guilt-ridden memory appeared, as he knew it would. He'd anticipated its appearance, but even so, he still cringed at its arrival.
He knocked on the door. China opened it and startled in surprise when he way who it was. His brother had been away for a very long time, and they were currently in a war. Or, at least, their countries were. Was it too much to hope for that their personifications wouldn't be, either? "Oh, 你好, Japan, come in! I was just making zhongzi!"
His hand shaking with what he was about to do, he reached for the sword, resisting the feeling of having to do it, having to pull it out. The distinctive ring filled the air. China's brow furrowed in confusion. "日本, what are you doing?"
He had to watch the slow march of realization on his ex-brother's face, and he had to angle the sword towards his throat. His troops were going on his boss's orders, and he too was a troop, to be ordered. He was just a troop, albeit a special one...
And he had to follow his orders. The damage his troops were doing would be felt in moments anyway; best to disguise the twisted inner pain that would soon arise. It was only mercy, he told himself. Right?
Knowing that if he waited a second longer, he would lose his nerve, Japan closed his eyes to block the tears and pushed the sword in front of him.
China's screams were heard all the way to Europe.
The memory seemed as fresh as if it were yesterday. He broke from the rigid hold, gasping as if he'd surfaced from the bottom of a deep lake. He found tears on his face without much outward surprise.
The problem was, everyone saw him as the withdrawn, isolated nation, with no space in his mind for feeling such petty things as emotion. He only wished it was true.
When people disregarded him, it hurt on the inside. "Oh, don't mind Japan!" Italy had actually said one time. "He's part robot! He has no feelings!" He knew Italy didn't really grasp the concealed insult, and the affectionate Italian had then proceeded to glomp him, but it still shocked him to see that that was what others thought of him. Am I really like that? Do others perceive me as an emotionless robot?
He knew his eyes didn't have sparklies like the others, but that didn't mean anything. It was just a quirk. Did it really render him a robot? He didn't think so, but it wasn't his opinion that mattered on this topic.
Each dismissal, each time any feelings he might have were ignored ripped the hole in him wider. If you'd asked him where the hole ways, he'd say it was where his heart used to be. But that was of no big detail, at least not to anyone who might've cared. And to the few people who actually would have, he'd even isolated himself from them. And within it, his oldest brother who unconditionally cared for him, or at least used to all the way up to the betrayal.
There's nothing I could've done, right? He thought wildly. Right?
He jerked out of the memory, sweating and feeling dizzier than normal.
Suddenly, Japan wanted nothing more than a hot bowl of soup and to lie down in his room, surrounded by all his cute fuzzy things he collected. He imagined his room. Nice and dark, with the blanket for hiding under. Yes, that room. He would give anything to be back there, with the knowledge that the rest of the nations were safe as well.
His head hurt, and his stomach churned. "The ship must be moving," he said to himself, to ward off the loneliness. In his mind, a large black hexagon spun across open space. The image sent a wave of nausea rolling down to his stomach. "Ah..." Japan's voice sounded strange to his ears, like a wind chime or a spiderweb. He shook his head. I must be going delusional, this fever is making me sick. He rubbed the sting on his forehead. It felt puffy and inflamed, and slightly damp, as if it were moldering.
He flinched away from touching it when he pushed his sweaty bangs out of his face. I'm not turning into a zombie, am I? Too many horror movies watched with America flooded to the forefront of his mind, and he pushed them away. I need to focus on the now...
Except now he was too hot, and his head felt like it weighed 50 pounds and was full of nails, with beads of sweat popping out on his body. So now wasn't the best time to focus on.
And neither was the past. The pain of the most recent memory attested to that. But it's not as if I could focus on the future...it hasn't happened yet, and abstract wondering is never good...
Japan lay down on the bench, pillowing his head in his hands. If he tried, really tried, he could call up a benign memory of when he was little, and sick as well. China's given him a warm bowl of soup, and after much cajoling from the smaller nation, even sung him a song. It was a nice song, with a sweet melody, but he'd forgotten what it meant.
He almost thought he heard it then, lying in his cell as he was. Just the faintest echo of words.
Hǎo yī duǒ mĕi lì de mò li huā...
Japan jolted up straight, trying not to stagger with the way the ship was slewing back and forth as if it had hit some atmospheric turbulence. He had to find the source of the song. As he braced himself in the corner, hoping the ship wouldn't suddenly pitch him into the crackling bars, he cocked his ears for the next line. He heard...silence.
Just as he was about to hang his head and decide that he'd been hallucinating, he heard it again.
Hǎo yī duǒ mĕi lì de mò li huā...
It continued, almost sparkling.
Fēn fāng měi lì mǎn zhī yā...
Japan whipped his head around, searching for its source. It remained elusive.
Yòu xiāng yòu bái rén rén kuā...
For a moment, he thought he saw a ghostly shape near the bars. Then it was gone, and instead, there was-
"Switzerland?" the Japanese nation asked incredulously, suppressing another swell of nausea as he moved too quickly. "What are you doing here? Can you get us out?"
The other nation spun round, recognition lighting up his features. "Ah, Japan, you are here."
The dark-haired nation almost smiled in relief. "Yes, yes, I am here! Do you know how to get me out?" He had to get out.
The Swiss nation was already turning away. Japan stumbled towards the bars. "Wait!"
Switzerland vanished, quite literally. Japan sagged against the wall and leaned his forehead against the cold metal in despair.
"Aniki?"
A familiar, worried voice assailed his ears. He didn't look up, fearing another hallucination.
"Aniki, it's me! Are you dead, da-ze?"
Japan closed his eyes tighter and put his hands against his ears. "You're not real! Stop bothering me!"
"But, aniki..." The voice sounded hurt. "I am real!"
Japan opened one eye to see South Korea standing at the bars. He peered closer. "Are you all right, da-ze?"
"Don't touch the bars!" Japan nearly screamed as his younger brother's face went too close. South Korea pulled back just in time. Magenta electricity snapped and popped where his face had been moments ago.
"Thanks, aniki. Why are you staggering all over the place like that?"
"Are you really real?"
"Why wouldn't I be real?" South Korea struck a dramatic pose. "Being real originated in me, da-ze!"
Japan still had his doubts. "How did you find me?"
"Well, aniki, we were walking-"
"We?"
"Yeah! Prussia, Belarus, me, Greece is watching the ship, and...hmm..." The Korean tapped his chin with a forefinger. "That guy I forgot, and Switzerland."
"Switzerland's actually here?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't he be? Aniki, what are you doing?"
Japan was kneading his temples with thumb and forefinger. His headache was getting worse. Suddenly, he sat up straight. "Why are you here?"
"To rescue you, of course! Rescuing you originated in me, da-ze!"
"How are you going to get us out?" Japan was once again interested in the conversation.
South Korea shrugged. "I dunno, we haven't got that far yet."
Japan was hopeful anyway. Maybe, by the grace of some celestial being, they could all go home and this nightmare would be over... The ship tilted and he stumbled again.
South Korea squinted at him suspiciously. "Aniki, are you high?"
The outright ridiculousness of the question startled him into a choked laugh. He felt bile rising in his throat. "No, I'm not." He staggered to the left and fell to his knees. "How are you staying still?" asked the Japanese nation, struggling to keep his voice steady. "The ship is moving all over the place."
The Korean frowned. "It's not moving at all, da-ze. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I know I'm not all right," said Japan faintly. His brother's answer only confirmed his suspicions; that he was ill, and not to be trusted.
His stomach lurched, and unable to suppress it anymore, he vomited all over South Korea's shoes. It was the color of the sludge they'd made him eat, or the dirt that covered him head to toe, strangling him..."I'm sorry," gasped the Japanese nation. "I didn't mean to throw up on you-"
South Korea looked alarmed, and he bent to peer closer at his older brother, almost forgetting the screamed warning- "Don't touch the bars!" Electricity crackled out and zapped his face, turning it first flaming hot and then so numb it burned. He jerked back so fast he almost got whiplash. When his vision cleared, Japan was face-down on the floor, unmoving.
"Aniki...?"
No response.
Switzerland, who'd been patrolling the hallway impatiently while some of the nations scoured the walls, glanced over. The cell that contained Japan seemed to be hidden from view by some sort of illusionary shield that could only be broken when the person in the cage was recognized by someone outside it. It was an impressive feat for South Korea to somehow pierce the shield, and now the other nations were combing the walls for any other hidden rooms without shocking themselves like the Korean had. "What's going on?"
The Asian was pale. "Japan just passed out. I think he's sick, da-ze. Have you figured out how to open the cages yet? Rescuing them all originated in me..." His voice drooped off.
Switzerland shook his head. "Not yet. But soon."
South Korea nodded his assent and began sliding his hands along the walls. Finding his other aniki was more important than pain. Switzerland walked past him to where he'd stationed Belarus as watch, despite her insistence that she help find her brother. "Have you seen anything?"
"No," she said sullenly. "Prussia and the other one wanted to go upstairs, though, and they haven't come back."
"Which direction?" inquired the Swiss nation, suddenly worried. If they screw up, if they give up our presence...
"Find out yourself, мудак,'' spat the Belarusian venomously, flipping a knife out of her sleeve for a moment before sliding it back in. The threat was clearly evident in her glare.
Ignoring the threat, he continued down the hallway and sure enough, found some stairs. He took the steps two at a time, and, checking his gun, whirled around the corner to find-
Canada glued to a window, transfixed, a look of horror on his face, his bear curled up asleep on his feet. Prussia was nowhere to be found. The hall was empty and threat-free. In three large steps, Switzerland crossed it and put his hand on Canada's shoulder. "What do you see?"
"Look for yourself," replied the traumatized Canadian, stepping aside to make room.
Switzerland pressed his face to the glass, his eyes darting around before settling on the centerpiece. There was a flayed-open form, organs suspended above it in greenish bubbles, and blood dripping languidly through clear tubes. Aliens were scurrying around, prodding the body and taking notes. Horror squirmed up inside him when he saw half a face draped on a frame. "Is that..." he began.
The aliens adjusted the cadaverous form, and Switzerland's fear was confirmed. It was America. "But that's...that's not even possible." breathed the Swiss nation, voice laden with disbelief.
"Apparently it is," whispered the Canadian sadly. "He was always kind of a jerk, but he was my brother. He didn't deserve to be..." He exhaled shakily and looked down. "Oh, maple...And neither did the rest of them."
"The rest of them?" Switzerland stood up straighter, fearing for his sister. "Who did you see?" His voice was nearly frantic."Who was it?"
Kumajiro opened one eye and yawned before settling down again as the Canadian began. "I saw France and England as well. And they..." He couldn't make himself go on.
Switzerland nodded, feeling a deep gush of relief that his sister had not been so brutally mistreated. To assuage the awkward silence that now filled the hall, he asked, "Where's Prussia?"
Only to be confronted with an empty stare. "He ran off to find his brother before anything like this could happen to them."
Switzerland gripped Canada's shoulders with painful force. "But where is-"
"Gone." The bespectacled blond shrugged. "I just don't know."
Translations:
発狂 - insanity, madness, etc. [Japanese]
你好 - hello [Chinese]
日本 - Japan
мудак - Asshole [Belarusian]
The song that Japan remembers is a traditional Chinese song called 'Mo Li Hua,' (茉莉花) or Jasmine Flower. My Chinese teacher had tried to make my class sing this song. It didn't work very well. As in, he was just singing it by himself and all eleven students were staring at him until he ordered us to sing with him. Then we all sat there, awkwardly muttering the words. Good times. Sort of.