Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any of its characters. Those belong to Himaruya Hidekaz-sensei, who made a lot more out of them than I ever could have. ^^;; I just do fanfiction for fun, and earn no monetary rewards for writing it. Reviews are, of course, worth as much as silver.
Summary: Nations live lives radically different than those of their citizens - one is lost in the crowd while the other is a living government secret. : Co-existence AU. : Current and past events, time skips, language, BL
Title: So Many Ways To Do It Wrong
Chapter One: But not out of pity
Word Count: 2,947
Page Count: 5
Anime: Hetalia
Pairing(s) in this chapter: America/Japan
Warning: Current event, serious themes, language, BL
Author: Kita Kitsune (Call me Fox!)
Date: Sunday, March 20, 2011
Miscellaneous notes: No offense meant. This idea hasn't left me alone since a week ago. It demanded to be written, even if it's short. Never written America/Japan, before. [Oh, well. I'd sort of accepted that I'd write it, eventually…] Figures that my first non-AU fic in this fandom centers around Japan, though. [Also sorry about the random Japanese. iGoogle should work, for that. It's not really anything essential, it just struck me to do it like that...]
(To the Japanese: You guys are strong, and I admire you for that. You have my respect—after all, I'm majoring in your language. But you're our friends. Please don't be too proud to accept our help in this time of crisis. We are not trying to make you look weak. We only want you to 'get well soon'…)
[ …Sorry. For some reason I had to include that. Not proof-read. I'll catch the mistakes, eventually. x.x ]
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"Japan! Dammit, Japan, let me in!" The black-haired man sat quietly in one of his back rooms, hands folded in his lap as he tried to ignore the loud American pounding on his front door. The room was dark, to save power. A few blankets were piled over his shoulders, in an effort to save power on heating, as well. His eyes were closed in quiet concentration. The echoes of sadness tore straight to his heart—he could hear them. All of them. Nearly a half-million of his citizens were cold, tired and hungry. The rest were scared, just simply shell-shocked or even panicking. Bless them, that they still retained their Japanese pride enough that the last one wasn't as apparent. So much as America's journalists tried to make it so, in their articles—it was not apparent.
Japan felt a stab of irritation. He had kept up with the American newspapers covering the Sendai quake and tsunami, and wasn't at all pleased with how his country was being painted. The issues at the nuclear plant in Fukushima were not his fault! They were not Japan's fault! They had been as well-prepared as an earthquake-prone country could be, and while America's boss' attempts to fix things were not overtly insulting, America himself was being rather over-bearing. Sticking his nose where it had no place and throwing out orders left and right—he hadn't acted like this since after World War II.
Although he did have to admit—he appreciated that America's boss hadn't demanded mandatory evacuations of Americans in Japan. England, France, Germany had all already done so…
Well, it was not as though they needed more civilians at risk, here! Kiku felt his blood broiling, despite the calming thought. Perhaps it was broiling because of the clear divide of authority that had happened less than a week ago. Even though it had all smoothed over, the thought of it still annoyed him.
"Japanese living within twenty kilometers of the Fukushima plant should evacuate. Those living within twenty to twenty-five kilometers should stay indoors, with vents and windows closed."
"Americans living within fifty miles of the Fukushima plant should evacuate!"
At last, he could take the incessant knocking no more, and pushed himself to his feet. He winced as his left shoulder complained, and brought up a hand to brace against it. After the tsunami, his entire left side—from the hip up—had become cold and aching. It was almost bad enough that he couldn't move it. And yet, Japan also knew that this was only an after-effect—it had no physical origin on his body, and was just this body reflecting the thousands of lives lost and buildings destroyed and people torn from their homes to die in a towering wall of water that greedily ate up everything in its path.
He would have the nightmares of the dead for years. Flashes of water, pain and suffocation bubbling into his thoughts, unwelcome—a first-hand experience of death, over and over again. Usually when it was only one or two people who died, he felt a small mental nudge before it disappeared (he'd grown used to blocking out the usual weekly number of deaths, as every Nation had), but when so many had suffered and died, so quickly—he had actually collapsed. Twelve hours after the tsunami from the quake struck, he had simply collapsed, and only succeeded in adding to his superiors' worries. He had woken the day after, of course, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. Japan kept the small cough tickling the back of his throat—from his economy wavering in the days after—to himself, trying not to cause more trouble for the officials. But they had caught on, quickly, and sent him home.
And here Japan was quietly left to stew over the international response. Not that he didn't appreciate the efforts—and not that it was his decision or job to accept them, anyway—of those foreigners, but he couldn't help but feel insulted at the amount of nations who had offered help. This was Japan, not Haiti! They were well-prepared, here! They were not wallowing in poverty, they had programs and the Self-Defense Force to help them recover.
England and France had not bothered to visit, however. Neither had any other Nation. Under the Fukushima nuclear facility's compromisation, their governments were likely forcing them to stay at home.
It was amazing that America, himself, was here—considering that his government was encouraging Americans planning to travel to Japan to stay home, and Americans in Japan to return home. No, it was not mandatory. Japan, somewhat critically, couldn't help but wonder when that would change. When even America would abandon him.
"Japan! If you don't open this door right now, I'm knocking it down!" Japan was in the hall when he heard that one, and had just looked up when the sound of the door busting reached his ears. He sighed, and mentally made a note to have it fixed before clearing his expression and fixing a small polite smile onto his face as America's narrowed blue eyes fell upon him. The look instantly dropped to desperate worry and soon there was a bone-crushing grip around his waist and a blond head buried into his shoulder.
"J-Japan! Why didn't you answer! I thought you'd collapsed, again, and—"
Oh, wonderful. So his superiors had let that slip, had they? Japan fought a small frown.
He easily ignored the pain resonating from the side America was crushing with his hug. It was irrelevant. Not that bad. Nonetheless, he patted America's shoulder for a moment, before trying to step back and away from the contact. Japan winced as America only squeezed him tighter, making small spots appear before his vision. He shook his head, and at last voiced a response, tone quiet.
"アメリカさん。I am fine. There is no need to—"
"Like hell you're fine!" At the vulgarity, Japan quieted himself. Clearly it was more important that America vent out his feelings. He was always like that, so unrestrained and raw… Instead of the thought making him smile fondly, however, it caused a frown to crease in his forehead. How melodramatic…
Ah, but now those blue eyes were up and glaring at him. Thankfully, America withdrew from the hug and instead braced his hands on Japan's shoulders. Imperceptively hidden in the folds of his yukata, one of Japan's hands went to press against the area above his left hip. That entire side still ached. He resisted a shiver at the chill, as well, lifting his head up proudly to meet America's eyes, and cut him off before he could speak. Japan's tone was crisp.
"アメリカさん。仕方がありません。We have seen disasters like this, before."
"No you haven't! Not like this! Christ, Japan, there's already thousands of people dead, more thousands missing—"
"アメリカさん。Perhaps you have forgotten that our country is the best-prepared in the world for earthquakes and tsunami?" Japan was no small amount proud of that fact. He steadily met the American's eyes, his own narrowing a bit. "It is a natural disaster. It cannot be prevented, only prepared for. My people—"
"Are panicking, even if they're not showing it!" Dramatically, America waved one of his hands around, eyes bright and wide. "Blackouts, refugees, stores in Tokyo sold out, entire towns destroyed and now that nuclear plant—" Japan's hidden right hand curled into a fist over the one small spot in his side that had felt the prick of the escaping radiation. "Stop pretending to be so strong, because you know you need help and I know you need help and I'm your friend and it's not just me, but my citizens want to help, too, and—"
The back of a chiding, fed-up fist in America's gut cut off his ranting. It didn't hurt him, but it was firm and caught him by surprise. Japan withdrew in the following silence—the fist which had connected solidly with his friend's soft muscle drawing back and into his yukata before he slid both arms out of the sleeves. He quietly tucked in the front folds, straightening them, before looking up at America's hurt face. That look soon shifted to more surprise as he saw the darkness lingering in Japan's eyes.
"アメリカさん。However appreciative of your kind thoughts that I am, we Japanese do not require your assistance." With this, Japan stepped around his shell-shocked friend, carefully maneuvering himself into the genkan without once showing the pain that had once more flared up in his left side. He stood beside the remains of the door, lifting his right hand, palm-up, to indicate the path. A disapproving frown tried to tug at his expression, but he kept his face carefully neutral. "Please return to your embassy, and manage your own citizens there. I will pay for your return ticket myself."
America's brows descended, to that, and he began to storm forward. Japan recognized the hard, stubborn set of his jaw, and allowed his own expression to darken another notch. As usual, his boisterious and pushy friend seemed oblivious. America started to rant, once more, as he neared.
"The hell are you talking about, stop being so damn proud and let me—"
What he did not expect was for America to grab his left arm. The unintentionally hard, unyielding grip sent the pain into quiet agony and Japan grit his teeth behind his firmly-closed lips, not allowing an inkling of discomfort to squeeze through his tightly-controlled voice.
"アメリカさん。Release me." It was ignored, as America leaned directly into his face, expression growing increasingly irritated at Japan's own stubbornness in not accepting his help.
"No. Not until you listen to me, Japan! All of your people are reeling from this! The nuclear problem is way out of your control! Your government's not taking any responsibility—Hatoyama just resigned, even! Now you either have the option to listen to me and let us Americans help with delivering supplies to your people up in Touhoku and help with the problems at the Fukushima plant instead of giving us this bullshit about 'not having enough information', or else I'll—"
"You will do what, Amerika-san?" His mouth worked before his mind, and Japan snapped into America's angry tirade. Still feeling agony in his left arm—still held in America's grip—the smaller man glared defiantly up at him. "Will you not allow us to fix it ourselves? We are not helpless. We have the capabilities, we—"
"You don't even have fucking electricity at that plant, Japan! Listen to yourself! This is not a normal situation! Are you going to allow your pride to put your people in danger? Fuck! If that plant goes up like Chernobyl it'll be so much worse you can't even comprehend—there it was fallout over an unpopulated area, but here it would be—"
"This is only the third time radiation has seeped into Japanese soil. The first two times were your fault." A shadow of regret passed over America's face, but Japan kept his tone unaffected. "This time it is our fault. It is our problem. We shall fix it ourselves. …Release me, and go home."
To his unspoken relief, at last America did let go.
"I didn't mean… to make you mad, y'know. I'm just worried about you—"
His hand slid down, slowly curling around Japan's cold fingers, partially hidden by the sleeve of his yukata. Before Japan could really register it, America's eyes went wide and he surged forward, pulling down the left side of the Japanese man's yukata and revealing the blossoming bruises and bluish tint to the skin all along his left arm, side and torso.
"W-What the—"
Shocked at this sudden invasion of privacy, Japan could only gasp—a gasp which quickly caught in his throat, and turned into a series of quiet coughs. He lifted his uncaptured hand to cover his mouth, quickly looking away as he tried to shift to somehow reconceal his exposed skin.
"I-it's—" Cough, cough. "It's nothing, don't—"
His efforts were to no avail. America's grip on his yukata was insistent in keeping it open as trembling fingers rose to ghost over the injured skin—the younger Nation silent, for once. The air was uncomfortable, but the strong fingers gave off unexpected warmth, and—Japan felt the color rise to his cheeks at the places his thoughts were heading. He inclined his head further away, in shame. America's voice was unexpectedly gentle when he at last spoke, his hand palming the darkened skin.
"W-Why didn't you say anything—I didn't know it was this bad—your side's like ice—"
"The ocean is cold, Amerika-san…" The comment was murmured absent-mindedly, Japan's head ducking down a bit in defeat as he stubbornly avoided meeting America's eyes. "And some areas remain flooded. If you'll recall, the coastline was even changed—I-I think I've grown a centimeter since the quake, as it widened the land by almost four meters, e-even though it also dropped less than a meter—"
In another moment he was drawn into a gentle hug. He couldn't do much against it, and so just sighed, allowing the American to hold him. For his part, his arms were pinned to his sides, so he couldn't have done much, anyway.
"すみません。" His ears perked a little at the Japanese apology, and he fought a small smile. How like America to apologize for not knowing. "I didn't mean to hurt you…" …Ah. Shaking his head, Japan tried to shift away. Surprisingly, America let him. He tilted his head, offering a small smile.
"大丈夫です。I am aware you did not intend to." Japan lifted his hand, then, waving his friend off, a bit. "I will tell my government to be more open with yours and graciously accept your help. But please go home—or, if not there—" Japan amended, seeing America begin to frown, "—then to your embassy. You can do more good there than here." Still managing to smile, Japan slowly pulled the left side of his yukata back over his shoulder. America frowned at him, more, but hesitated and offered a nod. He turned to leave, and Japan watched until he had gone around the gate at the front. In a minute or so he heard the sound of a car departing, and sighed, moving to prop the door back over the entrance. It would get fixed. In the meantime, he made do with closing the doors beyond the genkan, and then quietly headed back to his room. He felt tired, but doubted he would be able to sleep…
Eventually, the chill in his bones won out. Worming under the covers of his futon (and the blankets piled atop it), he had just settled when he heard the sound of someone moving about in his house. He had just tried to sit up, when the perpetrator slid into his room, holding up his hands. Japan blinked. America grinned sheepishly at him, before kneeling on the floor next to his futon.
"Since, I guess… you don't want to turn on the heat to save power, right?" Blinking at him, wordless, Japan nodded once. America fidgeted, looking at his hands. "So… I told my guys to go back to the embassy and tell them to keep trying to work with the government. But if America's helping Japan, I thought it would be weird for me not to stay here, right?" At this the younger Nation glanced a bit nervously upward. Their gazes met. "A-And since England and France and Germany's governments aren't allowing people to stay here, I figured you'd be better off if someone was at least—"
Very slightly, Japan smiled. And scooted back to his side of the futon, lifting the edge with his right hand. America perked up like a child told they could crawl in bed next to their parent and soon did so, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and completely enveloping him. His chilly left side was pressed up against America's T-shirt and jeans, but the younger Nation offered no complaint. Japan allowed himself to be tucked against his chest, and felt the brush of a chin against the top of his head.
"You're going to be all right." The soft smile on his face was hidden against America's shirt, where Japan's cheek was pressed. The ever-pulse of New York, usually so fast and hard, was gentle and firm. Japan could only imagine that flags all over America were at half-mast. The thought of this being done for the sake of the thousands of Japanese lives claimed in the earthquake and tsunami left him feeling strangely touched. It was better, now that he knew America's efforts to help were not out of a thought of weakness, but merely America being his naturally compassionate self (due in no small part to his legions of kind, caring citizens). Although Japan's smile had faded, it still lingered in his heart as the battered—but not beaten—Southeast Asian nation closed his eyes.
アメリカさん。。。ありがとう。
"I know we will."
: : :
188 American cities have sister-cities in Japan.
[To those having trouble uploading new stories in the Hetalia category: Publish your new story under a category that works (for example, one that gets you to the 'type in title and description' page). Change the category to "Hetalia - Axis Powers" from the drop-down menu after you publish the story. You will get another Type 2 Error pop-up in the category space. Save your changes, anyway. It should now be in the Hetalia category you selected. Keep in mind that you will not be able to alter details for the description and title unless you change the category to a different one that works.
To those having trouble adding chapters to pre-existing stories (or updating content of an existing chapter): Change 'property' to 'content' in the "Type 2 Error" page url and it should work. Found this by scourging the Internet, and figured I'd share (even if a lot of you already know this fix).
Peace, guys. Know it's frustrating. (This first 'chapter' has been written for two days, for me, after all...) ]
-Fox