Even at the end of the world, Japan has claustrophobia.

Warning: Anarchy, mention of murder and torture, character deaths, fight scene

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Russia

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds

The darkness drops again; but now I know

Ivan lay in his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It was dark, the curtains closed and the lights off. He had his gloved hands folded over his abdomen, fingering the material of his old World War II army great coat and cap. He smiled at the irony. All that he put into his country— his life, his being—was for naught.

So, this was how it would all end?

The government buildings in Moscow were burned and looted. Innocent supporters of the regime were killed as well as all officials discovered. The army was reduced to a few hundred soldiers. The infantry was retreating. Religion did not matter anymore. Cathedrals were seized and destroyed. Those of the cloth were murdered. Whole cities were burned to the ground.

And here he was, lying, waiting. He would not commit suicide nor would he kill his people. If his citizens wanted to topple the old order and kill him while they were at it, then so be it. Until then, however, he would wait for his demise with dignity.

At that moment, all the gunfire ceased outside, just a mile from his home. The army knew he was here, waiting, and they insisted upon protecting him, though Ivan had no idea why. There was no stopping the united will of the people—he knew that from experience. And he also knew that this time around, he would not be able to change that.

Not ten minutes later, there was a pounding at his door. Ivan kept his eyes locked on the ceiling and shouted, "Enter!"

"Sir!" A battered-looking soldier stumbled into the room, catching his breath. "S-Sir… there has been a cease-fire."

"So I have heard."

"No, Sir," The soldier was bold to tell Ivan he was wrong, but Ivan allowed it to slip. "It has been enacted on the enemy side. The General fears they are planning to launch an air attack."

"So?"

"Their main objective is to eliminate you."

"Oh," Ivan broke his stare at the ceiling to smile wryly at the young man. "Isn't that unfortunate?"

"Y-yes, Sir." The soldier was obviously disturbed by his behavior. "There's also something else."

"And what would that be, comrade?"

The soldier swallowed and turned, motioning toward the doorway. Ivan watched curiously as two more men entered, carrying between them what looked to be a corpse.

"You brought me a body?"

"No, Sir," the soldier replied as the others lowered the corpse to the floor beside Ivan's bed. Ivan's eyes widened and his heart sped up (actually beat a few good times) as he recognized the identity of the body. "We've brought you the President."

Ivan was silent for a moment, the blood roaring in his ears. "You rescued him?"

"No," The soldier looked shamefully at his feet before continuing, "The enemy returned him to us. They warned us this is what would happen to you."

"They only seek to weaken our resolve." Ivan replied, gaze returning to the ceiling. Quietly, he muttered, "It seems as if he's won the race to Death before me. Lucky bastard."

The soldiers were quiet for a moment, as if they were expecting more of a reaction. Then, one soldier said, "Sir, will you not flee?"

"Flee!" Ivan's sharp, almost hysterical laughing rang throughout the room, making them all flinch. Ivan turned his head to look at them. "Fleeing is for cowards. I must face what I have created."

"If you do not," another said slowly. "you will be killed."

"I have long known what my fate would be." Ivan closed his eyes as he faced the ceiling once more. "You needn't repeat it for me."

"You don't understand, Sir." a soldier replied, and Ivan gave him a how-dare-you-tell-me-what-I-do-and-do-not-understand look. Nevertheless, he continued, "All of the officials are dead. The only authoritative figures left are the remaining Generals and you."

"Unless you unite with the other leaders," another added. "Russia cannot be righted and saved. You must escape so that when peace comes, you will once again be able to restore order."

"Mother Russia," Ivan mumbled. "is no more. The people are Russia. Without their support, I am nothing but just another enemy opposed to their ideas." Oh, yes, he'd learned this, had seen his royalty killed for this…

"Then what do you intend to do, Sir?"

"I intend to end how I began: by the hands of my people." Ivan swallowed his regret and continued, "There is no saving this country from the wrath of those who created it. There is no stopping the Uprising. After I am long gone, a new Russia will rise from the ashes and who were once my people will start anew with rules and ideas they approve of."

There was a tense silence, then the soldiers stepped forward. Ivan turned to look at them quizzically. "If that is what you think, Sir," one said. "Then we have no choice but to forcibly expel you from the country."

Another soldier stated, "By order of the remaining Generals of Russia, you are officially banished from the country until further notice."

Ivan sat up, a dangerous look on his face. "You cannot banish me from my own country! I am this country!"

"As you said earlier, Sir," a soldier quipped, lunging forward to subdue him. The others immediately followed. "This is no longer your country."

"Let me go!" Ivan growled, managing to throw one soldier off of him, only to have the other two pin his arms by his sides. Damn! I'm too weak… His strength had been waning ever since the beginning of the Uprising, and now it was reduced to nothing more than that of a mortal.

"There is nothing left for you here, Sir."

"Stop resisting."

"Dammit, let go!"

Ivan was held down, one arm twisted behind his back as he was shackled. They then sat him up on his bed and placed his cap back on his head.

"There is no time to pack, Sir." one of the soldiers began ruefully. "We have all the supplies you may need. You are taking the last of the government jets to America. There you will stay until you are contacted."

Ivan was silent for a few moments before he looked at them and smirked. "You three are all very cocky bastards. I order you to retain that attitude until the end."

"We will, Sir." they all said at once. They all saluted Ivan, though Ivan could not salute them back.

"I guess I have no choice, then." Ivan said wistfully. "Do what you will with me. Though, I cannot guarantee that I will keep away until your call."

A soldier smiled. "We expect it."

Ivan lowered his head so that he was looking into the ghosted eyes of the President. "He was a brave man. Was he tortured?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very much so, Sir."

"He never gave away any information, though, Sir."

Ivan smiled. "Loyal bastard,"

He rose to his feet and was led by the soldiers out of his home and into the jet that waited in his backyard. Once they were inside, Ivan was chained to a chair in the cabin.

"The Captain will have the key." one soldier assured. "He will release you upon your arrival."

"Of course," Ivan offered them another smile. "I only wish I could have been of more help to you."

"You wouldn't have been allowed anyway."

"Who says I would have obeyed?"

The soldiers chuckled and waved in farewell as they made their exit. "Just… try to stay safe."

"I will," Ivan replied. "Or else all of this effort to send me elsewhere would have been for nothing, yes?"

The soldiers gave him a last smile as they exited the cabin, closing the door securely behind them, all of them knowing what fate awaited them back at the front.

Ivan sighed as the plane took off and he peered out of the window. The battle had started again, as it sounded, and small planes could be seen on the moonlit horizon. But it was too dark and foggy for the planes to follow, and he would be far away before they would arrive at his home.

Ivan leaned back in his chair as, once again, he laughed at the irony of his situation. "It figures that my only escape route would end up being one that led to America…"

Japan

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

Kiku cried over the body of South Korea, his head in his arms which were folded across the younger man's now cold body. It had only been a couple of days since Soo came to him, having been forced to flee his own country, and the two had been ambushed, Soo taking a bullet to the chest and head in the process. Kiku knew they were coming for him now that they knew where he lived, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was mourn Soo.

There was a knock at the door, and Kiku stopped crying abruptly, as he'd always done when he feared someone would see him showing any kind of emotion, which was quite rare. He instinctively reached for his katana, though he knew that it would do no good against guns and grenades. Even so, he would defend Soo's resting place to the very end. He wouldn't give anyone the chance of violating his brother's body like they did so many others.

The pounding continued, and Kiku braced himself, his katana raised and ready.

"Japan! Japan!" a familiar voice shouted frantically. "Kiku! Please, open the door! It's China!"

Without even the slightest change of expression, Kiku opened the door, and China stepped in, a look of horror on his face.

"What happened, China?"

"This!" Yao turned around to reveal the limp form of Hong Kong hanging from his back. Kiku examined him for a moment before Yao wailed, "He's dead! Shot! Murdered!"

"Oh, no…" Kiku backed away from the scene, his resolve weakening with the sight of Hong Kong's blue lips and pale face. "How did he…?"

"I tried to get over here with him," Yao began hysterically. "to see if you were okay. But the boat we took was intercepted by an enemy ship just offshore. We were forced to bail and swim the rest of the way, but they shot the water and hit Hong Kong. I had to drag his body to the shore and carry him here. I thought he would last until then, but…" Yao lowered his eyes to the floor in an effort to hide his tears.

Kiku was at a loss about what to do. He hadn't seen Yao cry before and wasn't very close to him. Comforting him was a foreign subject to him.

Instead, he took Hong Kong off of Yao's back and carried him to his couch, arranging him so that he looked like he was stretched out with his eyes closed. "Now it looks like he is sleeping."

Yao smiled and sniffled. "Yes… his facial expression even matches."

"Yeah,"

Yao laughed wistfully and he turned toward Kiku's room. Kiku, panicked at the thought of Yao finding Soo, darted in front of him, blocking the way. Yao gave him a puzzled look.

"What is it, little brother?"

"Nothing. My room is messy."

"Nonsense," Yao clucked. "You're the last person I'd expect to have their room so disorderly."

Kiku shrugged. "I… haven't been able to tend to it for a while."

Yao narrowed his eyes. "What is it you are trying to hide from me, Japan?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, really?" Yao tried to push past him, but Kiku's samurai reflexes prevented him from doing so. "Japan!"

Kiku sighed. This struggle was going to last forever if he allowed it. "All right," He stepped aside. "But you'll regret resisting me."

Yao gave him a worried look and opened the door cautiously, as if expecting a monster to jump out. Then, he gave a sharp cry, surging forward to Kiku's bed where Soo lay.

"I'm sorry, Yao." Kiku placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as he cried into Soo's chest. Yeah, that seemed the right thing to do. Like in those sappy American movies… "I tried to save him."

"They're all g-gone!" Yao sobbed, hugging Soo's dead body. "Vietnam, Taiwan, Hong Kong, South Korea, Thailand…" He heaved a sigh, as if struggling to suppress his sobs. "I don't want to lose you too, Kiku."

Kiku felt awkward at the confession. Sure, Yao had always considered him his brother, but they weren't particularly close. "What should we do, then? The rebels know where I am. They'll be here within hours."

Yao gave him a horrified look. "Then we can't stay here."

"We'll leave to a bunker, then."

"No, Kiku." Yao stood and took him by the shoulders, looking at him with serious eyes. "We have to leave the country."

Kiku felt his claustrophobia kick in, and he pushed Yao away. "Sorry. But how? My boss is dead and the city is crawling with rebels. We won't be able to make it to the airport."

"Do you know anyone who's able to fly a plane?"

Kiku thought for a moment, then got an idea. "Come on," He motioned for Yao to follow him as he ran out of the house. "I know where we can find one."

Yao paused at the doorway, glancing behind him ruefully before following.

Kiku and Yao ran for what felt like miles, until, finally, they reached a rundown building just outside the city. Kiku paused to catch his breath as Yao caught up.

"What… what is this?"

Kiku pointed up to the sign above the door. "Tokyo Helicopter Rides."

"Oh,"

"Let's go,"

It was dark inside, and Kiku unsheathed his katana as he entered. Yao stepped slowly in after him, wielding his large wok.

"Makoto-kun?" Kiku called out, his voice ringing off the walls. "Makoto-kun, are you here?"

"Yo!" Kiku flinched as the lights were suddenly flicked on, revealing a young man wearing a white tank top and gray sweatpants. He threw a gun back on the table he was leaning on. "Heya, Kiku. Haven't seen ya in a while, man."

"I know," Kiku began, glad the man didn't pounce on him like he always did when they met. "Do you still have the helicopter?"

"Of course!" Makoto said gleefully. "Ya know, guys, I thought you were some of them rebel mobs or somethin'. I almost pissed my pants!"

"Uh… that's nice." Kiku said with a slight grimace. "So, about the helicopter…?"

"Oh, yeah, right!" Makoto took one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it and scuffing it out with the toe of his shoe. "Right this way, my good sirs."

He led them out around the back until they were standing in front of a helicopter. "Here she is. Isn't she a beauty?"

"Sure," Kiku said, then turned to eye him seriously. Which wasn't hard considering he was Japan. "But we need to leave in it. Fast."

Makoto blinked at him. "What for? Doncha like the new scenery?"

"Makoto…"

"All right, all right," He peered around him at Yao. "So who's this guy? One of them long-haired rockers from downtown?"

"No, he's a friend of mine from China." Kiku said before Yao could retort. "He's coming with me."

"And where exactly are you going, hm?" Makoto leaned up against the helicopter, lighting another cigarette. "Planning on touring Beijing? I've heard the crowds are very friendly nowadays."

"Not exactly…" Kiku waved away the smoke. "We plan to escape to another country."

"Which one, hon? Ya know there are, like, a million countries in the world, right?"

I doubt that… He thought for a moment, then said the first place that he first thought of. "America. We want to go to America."

Makoto nearly dropped his cigarette in shock. "What! All the way the hell over there? Like, across an ocean? Nah, dude, I haven't ever gone that far."

"Please, Makoto," Yao cut in. "We really need your help. The rebels are tracking us. They could be here in less than—"

There was the sound of wood crunching and glass shattering in the building. They all froze, unable to speak as shouts erupted behind them.

"Looks like they've found you." Makoto said, putting out his cigarette and climbing into the cockpit. "Could you guys get me some fuel over there? This thing's not nearly full enough to travel an ocean."

Kiku and Yao quickly went to work, tossing in as many containers as they could before the rebels emerged from the building, guns firing as soon as they saw them. At that time, Kiku and Yao were by the building, preparing to get the last containers before they were forced to pull back. The rebels roared and ran after them, and Kiku could feel the bullets whiz by his head.

They were nearly halfway to the now running helicopter, when Yao shrieked. Kiku glanced to his side and felt his heart race as he saw that a large rebel had grabbed Yao's shoulder and was struggling to subdue him. Yao had long since put his wok in the helicopter in order to carry more containers, so he had little to defend himself with save for his fists. Kiku responded quickly, surging forward and slicing the man's arm with his katana before the rebel knew he was there. The man cried out, blood spurting from the wound and crumpled to the ground.

"Run," Kiku panted, turning to do so when he saw another rebel approaching him in his peripheral vision. He spun around at the last moment, running his katana through the man before turning to look for Yao. He was horrified to see that the Chinaman was struggling to throw off two attackers now, one at each arm. Just as Kiku was about to launch his katana at one of the men, both rebels screamed and dropped to the ground, blood welling from their stomach wounds. Befuddled, Kiku looked quizzically at Yao. Yao pushed back his sleeves to reveal blood-stained butterfly swords attached to his arms. "Just in case this happened." Yao smirked.

Kiku nodded and they both set off running again, this time making it to the cabin and clambering inside. As soon as they were in, Yao grabbed his wok and Kiku crouched with his katana raised and ready. The rebels were closing in, now only twenty yards away from the helicopter.

"Makoto!" Kiku shouted over the sound of the whirring blades.

"I'm punchin' it! Hold onto your asses, guys!" With that Makoto pulled up, allowing the helicopter to hover over the ground before it finally tilted away. Yao and Kiku were thrown back against the cabin as they shot over the building and toward the city.

Bullets still managed to hit the copter, and Kiku quickly pulled the door shut. He and Yao sat back once they were out of range, panting heavily.

"You guys okay back there?" Makoto asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yes, we're fine." Kiku answered, wishing Makoto would turn around and watch where he was going. He was notoriously known to be a reckless flyer.

"We'll have to stop in Yokohama to refuel. I just hope the people there are more merciful."

"I doubt it." Yao said. "Everywhere I've been has yielded no such results."

"For the record, I'll have to contact any Air Traffic Control tower in the U.S. before landing anywhere. I don't think it would be a good idea to drop you guys off at an airport—or any location at that—where there are no other pilots to get you out of a jam. But we do have to land on some islands to refuel before that."

"Do whatever you think is best." Kiku said. "And Makoto?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"Please try not to crash."

"Gotcha,"

No translations!

A Word From the Writer: Yeah... I don't know who or what inspired Makoto's personality. I guess I had the urge to include someone whimsical among all the dramatic stuff.