Author's Note-Hey, sorry for taking so long to get you the next chapter. School and research kind of swallowed my life. I know that the last chapter kind of ended on a dark note. I hope that this chapter can end with the positivity of the dawning sun. But before we get to the story itself, a few quick shout outs. Thank you to TheNSIGirl, Mofalle, and Kishima91 for leaving a review.

Part 3- Dawn

It has only taken me two hours to determine that I prefer Alaska's company to that of Texas. America's largest state knows how to enjoy silence…it is a trait that the second largest state has yet to discovered. Also, he apparently hasn't figured out how to use the internet to figure out cultural differences.

So far he has taken a bath while dirty (which meant will have to spend a whole afternoon draining and cleaning the tub), retrieved the mail shirtless (I will need to give the neighbors some cakes as an apology for that), and tried to make steak for every meal. Add that to the fact he never takes his shoes off when he enters the house, and I am almost ready to pull my hair out in frustration…now if only I could figure out a polite way to inform Texas that he is driving me crazy…I will have to meditate on that.

After a lot of thought, I realized there was only one way to convince America that Texas does not have to be here. I needed to return to Tokyo and get back to my regular life. I have spent the week making all of the arrangements, but I am finally here. As I watch Kanto sink happily into the padded armchair in the office, I can't help but relax. It feels so good to be home.

Moving back to Tokyo was a good idea, but I have to admit that all of the work that has been piled onto my plate has left me exhausted. It has been two months since the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster. I have thousands of people who are homeless, and I am struggling to figure out how I will feed my population because sixty percent of my fishing fleet was damaged beyond repair. I don't have the power to manufacture the goods that I normally export. I have hundreds of domestic issues to deal with, but right now the only thing that the international community really cares about is the one power plant that is critically damaged.

I am tired of being told that I was foolish to have a nuclear power plant so close to an active fault line, but, honestly, the fault wasn't the problem. I know this because the nuclear power plant which was the closest to the earthquake epicenter was able to shutdown without any problems; in fact, of the four nuclear plants that were severely shaken, only one was in critical condition and that was primarily due to flooding because of the tsunami. An earthquake caused the tsunami that was higher than any in my recorded geologic record – a tsunami which every seismologist agrees was statistically improvability.

I don't know how I will ever repair Japan's damaged international reputation, and I don't understand why so many countries have started to hold the opinion my domestic government is partially at fault for the deaths of my citizens. So many nations are acting like I purposely caused the nuclear radiation leak. Now, while expatriates from around the world are fleeing my shores, it seems like every national personification wants to become involved in my business. To be fair, I did ask a few of them, such as America and South Korea, for help but everyone else was not really asked…why can't they understand that in times of natural disaster the help they give should not come with the burden of baseless accusations?

I try to do my best not to hate other nations…I make an exception for Russia. I do not deny that each country is unique and each one of them brings diversity to the world, but I am not sure the world really needed the political, social, and environmental mess that is the Russian Federation. Yes, I know that we are neighbors, but a long history of botched interactions has left a very sour taste in my mouth...a taste which has only seemed to get worse in the wake of the earthquake last March.

I know that many nations think that my current disagreement with Russia is absurd. They do not understand why I would abject to someone providing aid to my country. They do not understand that very few countries give something and not expect something in return. This is especially true for your enemies.

I did my very best to limit my commitments to nations I can never truly see eye-to-eye with. In order to protect my national sovereignty and limit future contact, I turned away a hospital ship from China. I acknowledge that the extra medical would have probably saved the lives of some of my citizens, but cost of those lives would have been too high. Even now, China is trying to encroach on some of my outer islands. I have to put on a strong face now; otherwise, I truly believe China will go to war over that.

I truly wish that I could have done something similar with Russia, but Russia was simply too brash and powerful. He ignored my requests and sent foreign search-and-rescue contingents second to the United States. I know that I should feel grateful for this, but it is difficult because, now, Russia feels entitled to inform me that this nuclear disaster is my entire fault. Imagine that! The nation, who has had more nuclear incidents than the rest of the world combined, has the nerve to accuse me of negligence.

I learned this afternoon, that, apparently, lecturing me in front of the world was not enough for Mother Russia. No, he feels as though he is entitled to play a more active role in my attempt to clean up the radioactive mess that has contaminated Fukushima Prefecture. He isn't doing it directly; instead, he is sending his sister Ukraine. It is going to take all of my nerve to be polite during her extended stay.

If I say nothing else about Ukraine I have to admit that she is very attractive. When I drove to the airport to pick her up this morning, I could easily pick her out from the crowd. Her womanly figure; simple, yet bright, clothing; and blond hair looked like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day. I couldn't spend too much time admiring the view, though. It wasn't difficult to see that Ukraine was a bit lost and the airport personnel clearly didn't have a good idea how to help her.

"I am looking for this man…" Ukraine was flashing my picture around while she spoke using a slow heavily accented English. "He is supposed to pick me up, but he is late and I know that he has been having some really bad health issues, so I am kind of worried that he might have gotten into some trouble or something like…Kiku!"

The moment that the Slavic nation noticed my approach, she ran towards me and enveloped me in a very vigorous hug. I couldn't help blushing as every person in the entire airport appeared to stop and stare at us. The airport's attendants clearly didn't approve of the public display off affection but seemed relieved that the odd foreigner was finally off their hands.

After a few moments, Ukraine finally loosened her grip on me, enough that I was finally able to breathe again. As she sobbed in relief on my shoulder, I knew I needed to give an explanation of her behavior to the officials that had been helping her. I quietly explained to the airport attendants she was my cousin, coming to check on me because I had been injured in the recent tsunami. I explained that I still had a member of the household still in the hospital fighting for their life. I explained that Ukraine had volunteered to help us unpack our lives in Tokyo.

As I spoke, I watch the expressions of the people around me soften. No longer was Ukraine a hysterical foreigner. Now, they saw her as woman who had travelled a great distance to help rebuild a family destroyed by natural disaster. They were still uncomfortable with her open expression of affection, but they were now willing to overlook that.

"Are you alright?" I whispered into her ear, using language that only nation's speak. She hiccupped and nodded. "Good let's go then. The car is waiting for us."

"What are you reading?"

It took all of my self discipline to keep from jumping out of my seat. I must have been far more tired than I originally thought to allow Ukraine to sneak up on me like that.

"Government reports." I replied levelly.

"About what?" Ukraine asked.

One of her hands gentle rested on my shoulder, the other pressed against the desk as she leaned forward to peer down at the stack of papers I was reading. We both know that she can't read a word of kanji, but that still doesn't stop her from being curious. She bends in close enough for me to feel the warmth of her skin, to smell the rich scent of newly tilled dark soil and fresh baked bread. She doesn't realize it, but I don't have the energy to deal with the closeness right now. She has no clue how much I hate to be touched. I bit down a sigh and gathered up the papers so I could tuck them back into my desk.

"They are reports about Fukushima." I said quietly, then took a shuttering breath before continuing. "We have been testing every bit of food that that prefecture produces, and we just got some bad news. The rice harvest has been contaminated. Thousands of acres and hundreds of people will be severely affected by this. My government has done everything in its power to limit the impact of this nuclear disaster, but I feel trapped. How can I compensate the victims of this disaster? How can I tell farmers who have tended a plot of land for generations that their land has been contaminated and must lay fallow for decades?"

I spoke until I ran out of words and the depressing weight of my nation's current situation crushed down on me. My breath caught in my throat and tears began to prick the edges of my eyes. I tried to swallow my grief, but I couldn't keep a low mournful whimper from escaping my lips. Instantly, I hated myself for that. I was Japan, I was supposed to be stronger than this.

"Shhh," Ukraine wrapped her arms around me and cradled me as the sobs shook me. "Shhh, everything is going to be alright. Things aren't going to be fixed by tomorrow or probably not in the next few years, but your people are survivors. I can't imagine how much you are hurting. I have only experienced a nuclear disaster. I have never know massive earthquakes or tsunamis, but I know how painful radiation can be. I know how helpless it must make you feel."

Ukraine continued to talk, her lyrical voice speaking softly in my ear, but I didn't hear what was being said. She held me until I finally fell asleep.

I hate to admit it, but I think that having Ukraine come to my home and stay has been possibly as useful as having Alaska around. It helps to know that someone has been through a worse nuclear disaster and has come out the other side a vibrant strong nation. Somehow it takes the sting of the situation away. Perhaps it is simply because I feel more grounded when I know that I am not alone, but I suspect it may be more than that.

All nations know that we are often strengthened by proximity. We know that the pain and suffering of an ally can be reduced when we are there to share the burden. We know that a national personification brings comfort to the territories, states, and regions it protects. I am now suspecting that common experience may also create a bond between nations.

"Honda-sama," Miko-san said timidly as she knocked on my office door.

"Come in," At my call the secretary bowed and as she entered my office. Gracefully she placed a large parcel on my desk.

"An official from the American Embassy just delivered this package. I assume that you would want to look at the contents immediately."

"Yes, thank you Miko-san for your consideration."

The young woman dismissed herself, and I turned my attention to the box on my desk. To be honest, I was a bit confused. I thought that the package was possibly a stack of diplomatic messages, but when I opened it, I found a card and a large shape wrapped with tissue paper. I had no major gift giving holidays in the month of June, and America's birthday was eleven days away, so I was perplexed. Finally, I decided that the simplest way to figure out what was going on would be to read the card.

Hey Kiku,

As you have probably figured out, the reason I had to leave at short notice was related to the operation to take out Osama Bin Laden. The terrorist has been the boogieman of a generation of American's and so Alfred thought it would be best if there was direct oversight. Unfortunately, once he got me back into my military role, he kind of insisted that I help monitor the Arab Spring. I have been stationed in Libya for three weeks now, and I am already really sick of the sand.

Despite the fact I spend most of my days being shot at, I have been able to keep up with what is going on in your neck of the woods. I just heard that your earthquake was official rated as a 9.0. That means that you are tied with the Kamchatka earthquake of 1952 for the fourth largest measured earthquake. Congrats, you are officially in the top ten!

In this package I have included a little gift from the six nations that are already in the club. We hope that you will enjoy it and always remember that you are the Land of the Rising Sun.

Best wishes on rebuilding,

Samantha Wasilla Jones

I sat the note aside and pulled the tissue paper in the box apart. What I saw took my breath away. Gingerly, I lifted the blanket out of the box and spread it out on the floor. It took a few minutes for me to move everything out of the way so that it could lay flat. When I finally did, I could see the full pattern. I felt tears pricking the edges of my eyes.

The blanket was handcrafted with a striking black border of Russian wool. One-quarter of it was patterned with waves in vivid indigo Indonesian silk, the rest was knitted made in sky blue Linen from Tibet. The caps on the waves were pure white Ecuadorian cotton and the details of the clouds were made with nearly silver Alaskan Qiviut, but the thing that stood out most was the symbol across the center of the work of art. It was a sun knitted from a warm red-orange dyed Chilean Alpaca, rising out of the silk sea. Its meaning was clear. All six of the nations which had survived, at least, one of the world's ten largest earthquakes were reminding me that Japan would rise again.

Through most of my existence, I have not been one who focused on outward strength. The key to the Japanese people's survival has been discipline and innovation. I can't afford to be so narrow minded now. I will never be as physically strong as America, but I can become the strongest version of myself possible.

My strivings to become stronger is the reason my feet are thumping rhythmically on the treadmill. My lungs burn and my body aches, but I push myself to take that next step. Ever though I am in pain, I know that each mile I run will bring me closer to my goal. Just like every power plant we shut down will bring Japan closer to being a nuclear-free nation.

It takes a fair amount of effort to convince America that I am prepared to bring Tohoku home. We both know that once my damaged region has been returned to my shore that I will do everything in my power to make sure he fully recovers. I know that America wonders if I am currently strong enough to offer that level of support. Despite my greatest ally's doubts, I know I need to care for Tohoku. I need my country to become whole again. After a month-and-a -half of me nagging my friend, America finally relented. My wounded child returns home today.

It is difficult to see one of your children so broken. Every time I look at Tohoku with his arms and legs still in casts and thick layers of bandages covering the ugly red radiation burns that stretch across his stomach, a part of me wants to weep. It hurts me to watch him struggle to stand on his own, only to fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. It breaks me when he cries in fear every night due to nightmares I cannot sooth.

On so many days I have wondered, if bring Tohoku home was a poor decision, and if my selfish desire to care for my damaged region was causing him undue pain. When those doubts creep into my heart, the only thing I can do is look into Tohoku eyes. Despite the fact his eyes are always filled with agony, they are also hard with determination.

Tohoku is refusing to give up, he is fighting the pain, he is rebuilding. The least I can do is support him in every way I can.

New Year's had always been an important celebration in Japan. It is a time of reflection and renewal, a time for family and good food, a time of cleansing. When I was younger, he remembered the thrill of being given mochi and mandarin oranges, but the excitement of youth had faded over time.

Now, I usually spent my New Year's working in the government offices so that other officials can spend the holiday with their families. After work, I would make my way to my apartment and greet the new year with ice cream and manga. The next day three or four of my regions would visit, and we would pay our respects at a few of the local shrines. It was a pleasant way to spend the holiday season.

Greeting 2012 was rapidly becoming a completely different experience. I had decided that he needed to take the day off this year. Tohoku was still living in my home and as the holiday approached, it was clear that the region was becoming increasingly depressed. The wounded region had spent the morning listlessly flipping through the TV channels, clearly frustrated by the fact that he was too weak to help with cleaning the house. I had done my best to cheer him up, but the stories and jokes only seemed to make the region's mood sink deeper into depression.

After a while I gave up and resigned myself to the fact that I was faced with a holiday as gloomy as the soggy weather outside. Then there was knock at my door. Curious, I peeked through the keyhole and was shocked by what I saw. On my door step was my seven other regions. For the first time in decades all eight of my regions were going to spend the entire New Year's holiday as a family.

I opened my door and each of them piled into my home. After removing their shoes at the door and stating a polite greeting, they immediately went to work. Chugoku worked to clear space in my small refrigerator so that she could fit a large tub of Kentucky Fried Chicken into it. Shikoku moved to make some tea so he could fill a line of thermoses. Kyushu busied himself with organizing the pile of sweet and savory snacks the various regions had brought, while Kansai and Chubu finished straightening up the rest of the house. As I watched in shock, Hokkaido and Kanto managed to get Tohoku bundled up and sitting comfortably in his wheelchair.

"Father, are you coming?

"Where?" I asked as I retrieved my winter's coat from the closet.

"The Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. We are going to go see the NHK Symphony Orchestra perform in 30 minutes so we better head out the door because we have got a bit of a walk."

"How?" I asked a bit stunned. The NHK Symphony Orchestra was one of the most premier classical music performing groups and tickets for their New Year's performance of the Ninth Symphony were extremely difficult to procure. I was having trouble understanding why Kanto had gone through such expense and trouble. "Why?"

"I pulled a few strings and got us some good tickets, as to why…well, 2011 was a bad year. It was hard on all of us. We were forced to face a lot of pain and devastation together. After a year like this, I thought we really needed an opportunity to make a few good memories."

I smiled and gently and patted Kanto on the shoulder. "Thank you. Your forethought makes me proud."

It has been a year since the earth shook in the most violent earthquake ever to hit Japan. Life in Northern Japan is still dealing with the aftermath. Thousands of people are still displaced. The ones who used to live in the communities near Fukushima Daiichi may never return home. We are still working on providing the over fifteen-thousand dead proper burials. Then there are still over two-thousand of my people who are missing, and I suspect their bodies have found their final resting place at the bottom of the sea.

It is those two-thousand whom we have come to the ocean to mourn this morning. The stretch of beach quiet, dark, secluded. The only sounds that can be heard are the gentle lapping of the waves on rocks, the faint whisper of an early morning breeze, and the quiet sobs of three of my regions. In the silence I stand with my eight children and a few invited guests. Then out of the blackness, there is a slight glow of pink that appears on the horizon. Without speaking each member of the group removes their shoes and wades out into the sea. Once in the water they pull out little white paper boats from their pockets. I walk from person-to-person, giving each of them a lit candle to place in the boat. Once they are sure the little craft is stable, they place it in the water and allow the ocean to pull it out to sea. When all twenty boats are released, we stand, watching the tiny fleet of white paper bob on the ocean surface until it slowly slips below the surface of the water - only then do we turn our backs to the sunrise and walk back to the waiting line of cars.

Despite all of the efforts to clean the beaches, it is still easy to see little fragments of shattered lives. Little torn pieces of plastic and wood are scatter among the rocks and seaweed. A half a world away, on the other side of the Pacific Ocean I know another form of clean up is just beginning. Fragments of the floating mats of debris are slowly washing up on the shores of Alaska. It is only a matter of time before more rubble washes onshore along the western coast of North America. Both America and Canada promise that when this happens, the wreckage will be treated with upmost respect.

"So," America says thoughtfully. "Who is up to getting some breakfast? I'm starved."

"You're always starved!" England said, slugging the Super Power in the arm.

"It's not my fault I have an incredibly healthy economy," America countered, then winked at me, and I understood what he was doing. He was reminding me that while it was important to remember to mourn, I should never forget to live. I let go of a breath I didn't realize I had been holding and gave the first genuine laugh in a year.

"Well, we better go find you some food before you starve-to-death," I said with a smile, and we loaded into the black government vehicles.

Driving south I couldn't help but reflect on the last year. Here in Japan we use to think that our resilience made us able to survive the worst disaster that elements could throw at us. March 11, 2011 changed everything. It proved that the Japanese people were up the challenge.

Endnote- We will rebuild Japan…