It's Finally Over, Isn't It?

Summary: America has a talk with Japan on the day he officially surrenders.

Author's Note: General fic – Written for a friend. Mostly an introspective piece for Japan.

How long has it been?

How many days have passed since the war ended… since the Emperor conceded defeat… since we lost?

How long has it been since Hiroshima and Nagasaki has been lost?

Japan closed his eyes as he tried to will those thoughts away.

It's been twenty-four days since that fateful day—a day that will go down in infamy, Japan was sure—and eighteen days since the Emperor realised that the homeland could no longer withstand continued warfare. Not even a month yet.

And he already felt like he was going insane. His body, still littered with wounds and scars from fighting along side his men, and the hole in heart from all the Japanese lives that were lost, served as a constant reminder of what had happened.

He didn't even know what he felt. Of course, the most potent emotion he felt was overwhelming loss. Pain. Suffering. The next was shame. It was one thing to lose a war—which Japan had never even really experienced before, warrior blood flowing through his veins always ensuring that he fought violently, viciously, vehemently, until he won—but it was another to have started it, to have thrown everything into it… only to fail. Everything, all the effort, all the sacrifices, all of those Japanese lives—all for naught. So many soldiers had fought hard, had put in their heart and soul into battle for the sake of the Emperor, for the sake of the country, for Japan…

And they'd still failed.

Japan's pride could hardly take it, his ego pretty much shattered after this disastrous war, and neither could his heart handle being engulfed in guilt.

But, in the end, he felt… relief. Even when Japan had been doing well in the war, securing victories in places like Hong Kong, the Philippines and Singapore, his people hadn't exactly been flourishing, with as many as two-thirds of his military deaths being due to starvation and illness rather than one of honour on the battlefield. So, even though Japan would have to deal with having been disgraced on a global scale and would have to face the price of losing, at least his people no longer had to die unnecessarily. No more fire-bombing, at least.

The war was finally over.

Japan still almost couldn't believe it.

And today was the day it would be officially recognised. On this ship, the USS Missouri, Japan's future would be determined.

He already knew that it would be a long journey to get back on his feet.

The war was over… but the battle was not.

The cost of being a loser was not pretty. Japan was sure that the demands that were to be heaped on him would be unreasonable. He knew deep in himself that if it had been him who had won, it would be unlikely that he, or his government, would show the other side mercy. People who took Japanese lives could not be forgiven, and would have to face punishments for what they had done.

Japan was absolutely certain that the Allies thought the same thing when it came to their men.

At the moment, Japan was slowly walking to the meeting room where the negotiations (with no say from him, really, since his surrender was unconditional) were to happen, and where the formalisation of his surrender would take place. Japan was practically dragging his feet at this point, not really wanting to finally acknowledge his failure.

Of course he was not in denial. He knew. He knew he lost.

Just like Germany before him.

And Italy, even before that.

But he did not want it to be solidified, the ink of his defeat seeping into the paper like his people's blood spilt on the battlefield. The Japanese Instrument of Surrender will go down in history.

The dead won't, and will never get the chance.

For a brief second, Japan wondered how his former allies were handling their own losses. After all, he had been the last vestige of the Axis Powers.

Japan did not know if he was feeling nostalgia for the days when he had been still on top or feeling regret for joining them in the first place. If he hadn't yearned for expansion, if he hadn't kept wanting more and more and more… maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if he had stopped when he was ahead and had just felt content, there would have been less carnage.

Ah. But my people needed more and I wanted to give them everything. I still want to give them anything to ease their suffering.

Expand, expand, expand. Make Japan the greatest power in Asia.

Let the Japanese reign supreme.

Nobody else is as important as my people.

Japan shook his head then, wanting to get rid of those thoughts that had gotten him into this mess to begin with. Diverting his full attention back to his current situation, he willed his legs to go faster. Just a few more steps to the meeting room, a few hours until this whole affair was over, and a few minutes until he arrived back at home, so he could continue planning for the future of his nation.

Just get through this, Japan thought to himself. The sooner this is over, the better. It really will be better once this is finalised. Stop thinking otherwise.

"Japan! Is that really you? It's—it's been so long." A voice—a familiar one, at that— echoed from behind him and Japan felt a warm hand land on his shoulder.

Still a little jittery and alert from the war, Japan had to resist the urge to turn and kick the person or throw them. Instead he forced a polite smile on his face and turned around—only to be shocked by what he saw.

In front of him stood America, wearing a US Airforce uniform and a bomber's jacket, with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"It really is you," America said, and he looked ecstatic to see him, his hands squeezing Japan's shoulders in a friendly manner, as if he wanted to pull him to his chest.

Japan felt the exact opposite. He felt sick to his stomach. And angry. Oh so angry. He wanted to punch him, to scream at him, to hurt him.

So that America could experience the pain he had made him go through. America did not even look as if he had been through a war. There were practically no marks on his skin besides a scratch or two and his uniform looked pristine—he looked strong. Powerful. Dangerous.

And Japan's own body was still trying to heal. His own uniform was worn and torn. Pathetic. He looked pathetic and he did not need America here to take advantage of his weakness once again.

How dare he? How could America fight against him, kill his people, drop two nuclear bombs on his country, and still come up and talk to him as if absolutely nothing had happened?

Japan stood there silently, looking down at his feet. He had nothing to say to America. He could not even look at him. He would even throw out his manners, as long as he could kill this conversation before it starts.

America did not try to say anything either. They just stood there, in this weird tableau, awkward silence hanging between them. Occasionally, other officials heading for the signing would pass them, shooting them strange looks before continuing towards their destination.

At this point, Japan knew that he had to say something, or this would never end. Finally, he said, "Ah. America-san. I…did not expect to see you here. The rest aren't here too… are they?"

It was true, at least. Japan did not expect any other Nations to attend this signing. It was just a formality, after all. The war was already over. He thought the rest of the Nation's would be tending to their own affairs—representatives from each country were good enough.

Japan shuddered. If Russia was here… Well, that was to say, America was hardly the worst person that he could have run into.

America finally removed his hands from Japan's shoulders, thankfully, and used one of them to scratch the back of his neck. He let out an uncomfortable laugh.

"No, none of them are here. England and China have… to deal with a lot. France doesn't want to leave his country now that he finally got it back. Russia…" America paused for a moment. " Anyway, I am the only one here. I—needed to talk to you."

I can't say the same for you, Japan wanted to say. He felt floored. What did they have to talk about? It's been a long time since Japan had last seen America, and even longer still since they've met on good terms.

"That's very nice of you, America-san. But I think the meeting will start very soon so excuse me, but I think we should stop here. Goodbye." Japan bowed, before making to go away, trying to put as much distance between him and America as possible.

"Japan, wait—" America shouted, as his hand shot up to grab Japan's wrist tightly, stopping Japan's escape.

It seemed America forgot to control his strength as Japan could almost swear that he his wrist bone broke under America's steel grip. He winced in pain.

Just what I needed, Japan thought to himself, unamused. Another injury.

At least this time, America noticed Japan's discomfort. He loosened his hold.

"Please don't go yet. I really need to talk to you. Please just follow me. It won't take very long," America pleaded, hopeful blue eyes looking down at Japan's, begging.

Japan sighed. There really was no choice then. He nodded, and America started pulling him away from the ship's busy corridor, into a silent corner. The whole way there, the entirety of Japan's body had been screaming in protest, paranoia flooding his senses. He knew America probably meant no harm but one could never be too careful.

Once America was satisfied that the place he'd chosen was empty and private, words gushed out from him, unfiltered and plentiful, like a river rushing out from a broken dam. "I'm so glad you're alright. It's been so long since I've seen you—I can't even believe my eyes! I—I want to apologise. I hope that there are no hard feelings between us… I know what I'm saying must seem pretty rich right now but if it's any consolation, I'm really sorry for your loss. I… It's one of the most difficult decisions my government has ever made. "

Japan could hardly keep up with what America said, with how fast he was talking. But he caught the word 'apologise' and he wanted to scream. An apology? Really?

An apology will not bring the dead back to life, America-san.

Japan closed his eyes and his hands clenched, "You can't even say it. What you did. Why are you even talking to me? I don't believe we have anything to talk about, America-san. I'm not going to quell your guilt. Not after what you did."

America's face turned beet red. "Hey. I'm just trying to be nice… to ensure that a friend is doing fine after… everything. Don't try to guilt trip me. You're not free of blame. I did what I had to do. For my people—"

"At the cost of my own! You—My people and I have done many horrible things but what you did—what you did—" Unforgivable, Japan wanted to say but the word was catching in his throat. He lost, the Axis Powers lost—it didn't matter what he thought anymore. Only the victors get their compensation.

Japan couldn't hold it in anymore. He had been furious since the very first second he had set his eyes on America and his restraint was only so strong. This was probably the last time his voice would really be heard with the looming American Occupation of his country—and he's not going to waste it being passive and coy.

"There was no other choice!" America shouted, startling Japan. He didn't think America would be this enraged so fast. Honestly, Japan didn't even think America had the right. "Your emperor, your fucking government—they wouldn't surrender. What did you want me to do? Sacrifice my people? England's? Kill even more of yours? Drag on this stupid war that I didn't even want?"

"The emperor would have surrendered! You didn't have to drop them! It was unnecessary—absolutely unnecessary and you know it! America-san, don't try to justify your actions. Not in front of me." Even as Japan said it, he wasn't too sure… He was being defensive—too defensive. This—he wasn't prepared for such a conversation so soon. How like America to be so insensitive as to spring this up on him unexpectedly.

"S-Stop it! Don't you dare try to make me the bad guy! I'm a hero—I… I don't take lives lightly; I don't kill excessively. You didn't have to bomb Pearl Harbour either. But you did. You did."

"That was war – they were soldiers. You… the people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were civilians, just trying to survive and go about their lives in tough times. And you just ended it. Like it was nothing."

America rubbed his face, looking pained. He did not respond. But Japan was not going to leave it there. Now that he had found America's weak point. His guilt.

"And America-san. You say you didn't want the war… but it's not like it disadvantaged you. In fact, it's done you well, hasn't it?" Japan said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He had needed to win this war, his population skyrocketing but the amount of food not being able to keep up with the growth.

And yet, America had just waltzed on into this war and had walked out with a better economy. Now, there were even rumours that there were no other countries left that could match America anymore. America had barely lost anything, and he was walking out of this war a superpower.

He should not even have been involved. Japan thought. What do you think Pearl Harbour was even for? To deter you from entering, to stop you from helping England-san…

To prevent us from having to face each other in combat.

"You're not wrong," America replied. "But that doesn't mean I wanted it. I didn't start it. I hadn't wanted to participate. I did nothing wrong. I'm just trying to help. Many countries are still dependent on me, even though the war is over. England… and others." America's eyes gained a gleam to them, as if he was thinking of something far away. "You should see England now. His country is in shambles. He's gone through so much—so much. But he continues to carry on. His spirit is as strong as ever. I… I am going to help him. Even though he's one of the people who dragged me into this, I want to help him."

Japan swallowed harshly. He had absolutely no idea why America was telling him this. But he could not help but feel jealous. Why did England get to have America backing him? Japan would kill for someone to help him now, even if it slowly scraped away at his pride. His country was the one in ruins. His people were the ones slowly dying from starvation. His autonomy was the one that was going to be stripped away from him.

Of course he knew he had been on the 'wrong side'. The 'evil side', the one who had wanted a war to begin with. His own people have done terrible things during the war—especially to China… despicable things… but he really didn't want to think of him right now—but a Nation was always biased to their people. No matter what, his people came first, their wants and needs being top priority, even ahead of previous emotional connections.

He and his people had done atrocious things, sure, but that did not mean Japan deserved all the things that had happened, and all the things that were sure to come.

Silence had fallen around them once again. Japan had no idea how to reply to America. What was he supposed to do? Wish England well? When he himself was uncertain of his own welfare?

Suddenly, America broke the silence once again. "This conversation didn't really go as I planned. I didn't mean to blow up at you like that, Japan. Honest. I really had just meant to apologise, make sure that you weren't being mistreated. I—I truly am sorry. As Alfred, I really would have loved to avoid using… them. The guilt… it's unbearable. I regret hurting you so badly, even though you've caused me harm too.

"But I need you to understand. As the United States of America, that was the best course of action and… and…

"If I had to do it again, I would, without hesitation."

Japan had to bite his lips hard to prevent from retorting because in the end… he knew. He understood. As Nations, they had to follow the will of their leader, the government, to do the best for their citizens—what they themselves want, are secondary. They could try to protest, try to influence but in the end, the decisions lay solely in the hands of their leaders.

That did not mean, however, that Japan felt any less angry—emotions overpower all reason. He did not expect the conversation to go this way? How dare America even engage in conversation after all that he had done, try to offer him justifications after thousands of his people died as the result of America's actions?

Still, Japan would be lying if he said that he didn't feel at least a little touched by America's words.

"I—I understand, America-san. As Kiku… I'm glad you came all this way to check on me…

"But as Japan, I can't forgive you. Not now. Maybe… not ever."

America's face had stretched into a smile at first, when he had thought Japan was opening up a bit to him, but had immediately fallen when he realised that he was still not forgiven.

"Ha. I guess I deserve that. As long as we have a mutual understanding, I guess. Because, even though I feel bad for the bombs, that doesn't mean anything changes. You'll still be trialed for your war crimes. There—won't be much leniency, as you already know. However…however… I—My government will not leave yours in the lurch. A broken country can't repay debts.

"And…" America hesitated. "And if you personally need any help, anyone to talk to—

"I've never stopped considering you a friend. I'm still here, if you ever forgive me."

"I think the meeting will start soon… we should go. Good luck, Japan."

Japan stayed quiet and his eyes followed America as he started walking back towards the meeting room.

"Thank you… America-san."

Japan almost smiled as he trailed behind America. Even though the future seemed bleak, his country damaged severely and his people in pain… at least the war was over. No more mindless killing, torture, suffering. And no matter what happens, no matter what unreasonable demands the Allies throw at him in the final treaty, Japan knows he will be fine.

The Japanese people will stay strong.

They'll continue to survive—and prosper.

In the country where the sun rises, there's always going to be something better, something to look forward to beyond the horizon.

The sun will rise for us once again.