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Old Scars: New Future
Pairing: Yao/Kiku
Rating: T (for themes)
Summary: “The things he did will never be repaid, nor forgotten. Because the proof of his betrayal will always be on Yao’s back.”
Warning: nothing much, just angst and happy endings~
Disclaimer: I’m not Hidekazu Himaruya and sadly I don’t make a profit out of my fics…(though I think I should!)
~*****~
“Hey Yao! Kiku has this huge indoor swimming pool, you wanna come with us?” America asked over the phone, his loud voice drowning out the once silent peace of the Chinese man’s house.
“That sounds like fun actually, aru.” The brown haired man contemplated as he stared out towards his garden, the gurgling springs reminding him of a large pool, the thought of cool water and friends seemed so tempting in this humid dry spell they were in.
“It is! He even said that all the food and refreshments are free! Well not really but they’re at a discount or something, but I’m going to bring lots of hamburgers! You should too!” the much younger nation exclaimed, Yao could practically hear the smile on the dirty blonds’ face as he spoke.
“Aiyah, you’re going to get fat Alfred. I’ll come but I’m not bringing any more food for you to stuff down your throat, aru!”
“Aw man, come on Yao! Your food is one of the best! Better than Arthur’s even!” in his ignorance, the American couldn’t hear the Chinese curses coming from the other line.
“I’m not bringing any food, so you can keep your fatting burgers and your opium filled scones aru, goodbye.” Hanging up the phone Yao pouted for a bit before the older man smiled. Looking down and picking up his baby panda as it nestled his leg and sat quietly as he talked to the other nation,
“You know little one, I think today will be a very fun day,” and the panda nodded its little black and white head at his master.
~*****~
“Francis stop bickering with Arthur, aru!” Yao scolded the Frenchman as he fell back onto the pool chairs, under the large umbrella that protected his pale skin from the artificial light that shown above the men.
The Chinese man sighed,
“They’re old enough to care for themselves China-san, why do you continue to worry over them?” Japan’s polite and quiet voice asked from the older nations side. He too seated in a pool chair, hidden from the artificial rays of light.
It was rare for the Japanese man to talk to him, much less strike up a conversation.
Yao looked at the man who was once his younger brother, once his enemy, now his friend…if they could call themselves that. Golden eyes met with dark brown, and Yao smiled ruefully unable to completely hide the sadness in his eyes.
And Kiku knew what Yao was going to say before he said it,
“I can’t help but watch over them, aru. They’re young. They have so much to learn….” and the Chinese man looked onto the scene before him, as America swam in circles exclaiming how he could make his own pool twice as big, France and England at each others throats, Russia sitting on the pool’s edge eating shaved ice happily singing a song under his breath. And even Germany teaching Italy how to swim properly.
They were all children in the eyes of the oldest nation.
And Japan felt it. Still.
Seated beside the man that once took him under his wing and raised him up from nothing. The man who he once adored and loved above all others, China. Wang Yao, his once big brother, his nii-san.
Kiku opened his mouth, as if to say something- but closed it when he found no words would come. What would he say now? What did he want to say?
Instead Kiku looked away from his once father-figure, his mentor and guardian- friend. And looked to his fellow nations letting a smile fall onto his face. Looks like it was a good idea to invite the others to his indoor door after all.
~*****~
Some hours later after the men ate the foods, mostly American hamburgers and Japan’s food. Everyone went back to the pool,
“Hey Yao come on in!” Alfred yelled from the shallow end of the pool, waving at the Chinese man as if he were a little kid in need of encouragement to get in.
“No aru, I’m fine where I am.”
“Aww come on! I want to show you how fast I can swim!” the youngest of nations laughed, momentarily reminding Kiku of his (once) younger brother Im Yong Soo. A bitter smile and a dimming of his eyes showed his only concern before Japan hid his emotions again. Looking to China as he once again declined American’s pleading.
“Fine I’ll just go show Francis or Arthur!” in a rush to show off his super swimming skills, Alfred turned and swam away, unintentionally splashing Yao with pool water.
“Aiyah!” the 4000 year old immortal exclaimed, as he stood up abruptly. His long-sleeved red summer shirt soaked now turning a dark burgundy red. “This was a new shirt from Hong Kong too! Aiyaaah,” without much to do about his wet shirt, the Chinese man unbuttoned his top and slid his arms out of his shirt.
Putting it under the artificial rays of light, Yao hoped it would dry without leaving a water stain on the silk material. Glaring out towards the youngest nation in what he hoped to be a very angry fixed stare, he didn’t hear a light gasp come from the other Asian nation.
Kiku watched as Alfred turned and splashed his old mentor with water, not even turning around to apologize when he couldn’t have not heard Yao yell. Anger and an ugly feeling bubbled from the pits of Kiku’s stomach at such disrespect when an all too familiar guilt pulls at his heart and he looks towards Yao- almost out of instinct, as he took off his shirt.
It wasn’t often Kiku saw Yao’s skin. Not even as a child under the full watch of the Chinese man, did he ever see Yao show any skin other than necessary. He saw his hands, sometimes- when they held him and rocked him to sleep, he saw Yao neck, occasionally- when the heat was just that right amount of unbearable. And rarely, Kiku saw Yao’s forearms- only once when he rolled up his sleeves to punish him and Yong Soo for fighting in a temple.
But never, had Kiku ever seen so much of Yao’s skin.
His arms defined and still strong, centuries of martial arts. His chest small but lean, pale and perfect. His stomach, slender but not weak, the occasional flicker of abs shows Kiku that his old mentor isn’t as old as he claims to be.
Yao’s body is small, smaller now that he isn’t hidden beneath layers of fine red silk, and despite the perfection Yao’s body holds; Kiku sees the scars.
His eyes look for all the scars and wounds Yao has kept hidden away from prying eyes, for hundreds of years.
He sees the wounds of England’s kicks to his stomach, the slight deformation of his left floating ribs. Kiku sees the almost completely healed cuts and burns from America. The uneven skin tones of Yao’s collarbone and wrists, from Russia. He sees the dark bruises just barely peaking out of the waistband of Yao’s summer pants- for he’d never wear swimming trunks.
Kiku sees them all, the imperfection hidden so well underneath the perfection.
Kiku sees all the scars because he knows they are bound to be there, because he is looking for them. But one. One scar, Kiku doesn’t need to look for because there is never a need to search for it on Yao’s otherwise perfect body. It stands out on its own, for all to see should Yao ever let anyone that close again….
It is the one he, Kiku, had given to Yao….so many many years ago.
The sword scar, the cut that ran deeper than any blade of his could ever cut.
Kiku stares at the large wound, still red and raw- unclosed and just barely able to keep itself from opening again as if Yao were to bend in a certain way it would tear open and the blood would begin to seep. And Kiku can see in his mind’s eye the blood. Its on his hands…
The once pristine white sword now dyed crimson- soaked in Chinese blood. Yao’s blood. He sees the withering body of his mentor- no longer, the raven black locks unbound from his ribbon caked in mud and dirt. His shirt torn at the back as the blade- once so noble and a symbol of his pride, his blade cuts into skin and flesh and cloth.
There is a heaviness as he drags the blade across China’s back. A yelling- a scream that still rings in his nightmares, as the body of Yao falls along side his own dying people. Kiku drops the sword, his only protection against the armless mass of civilians- children and women.
And Kiku remembers there were tears in his eyes, running down his face- mingling with the blood of the people of his father and mother nation. He fell to the ground, yelling against the screams that surrounded him- in tongues he vaguely remembered he understood, looking up- pleading, towards Yao for forgiveness.
But golden eyes stared back at him.
In betrayal.
In hatred.
~*****~
“Japan? Japan are you okay, aru?” a voice asked, breaking the Japanese man’s train of thought. He looked up only to see nothing but gold. Betrayal.
He pulled back, his dark brown eyes wide and for once- frightened. “I-I’m fine China-san,”
“You’re pale, I think you’re the one who needs to join Alfred in the pool and not me, aru.” Yao commented lightly, sitting back into his chair a light twitch in his eye showing his only discomfort of the plastic material against his naked back.
For a moment, Kiku would have called his men out here in an instant and find another chair for Yao- anything to ease the pain he had caused the older nation. But, instead he did nothing.
He wasn’t in a position to do anything for Yao. Because what was he to the other man? An enemy still? A friend….? A stranger.
“I’m sorry.” The words have left his lips before he can even remember thinking them. Its reflex. Natural. His people’s way of coping with things they feel should be approached but have no idea how. Kiku has used these two words so often- even he isn’t sure if they’re real or not, and instantly they burn his tongue.
More lies and falseness. Yao turns to him and Kiku stares into golden orbs. Such wisdom and patience. Years of pains and joys, memories and tradition glow in a yellow halo in China’s eyes. Such kindness. Such Hatred.
“I’m sorry.” Lies or not?
“Why are you apologizing to me for, aru. You haven’t done anything to me,” and this time Yao is looking at the Japanese nation with a curious and weary look on his face, slowing sitting up from the laying pool chair. And he sees Kiku’s eyes instantly drawn to his back, and the twitch and dimming of dark brown eyes are enough to tell Yao everything.
Yao wants to say what he knows Kiku wants- yearns, to hear but Yao turns away from the younger man and draws his legs to his chest. He can feel Kiku’s eyes drawn to his back and this is the reason he’s sitting like this. There is reason behind everything he does.
Kiku needs to know he will not be forgiven. The things he did will never be repaid, nor forgotten. Because the proof of his betrayal will always be on Yao’s back. Always a reminder to the Japanese of his dark past- no matter how much his people may ignore and deny it; a reminder to China how to never trust so completely again.
But- that doesn’t mean they can’t start over. Somewhere….
“It looks bad doesn’t it, aru?” the younger nation looked up and flushed with guilt and embarrassment before looking away in shame. Yao would have missed the Japanese man’s head nod slight in agreement if he hadn’t been looking.
“It doesn’t hurt much aru, just numb most days,”
“….and. the other days?” he heard the younger nation whisper, almost as if he were afraid of the answer.
Yao looks over to the man who was once his beloved little brother, the pride and joy he had in him, those big brown eyes so much like Taiwan’s and Korea’s- not like his little Hong Kong who shares the same golden orbs as him, looked to him and Yao made sure Kiku would not look away,
“It burns. Those days this scar consumes me and my entire body hurts. Those days I feel I don’t have the energy to continue living and I don’t leave my house, aru.”
“C-China-san…”
“You hurt me Kiku. And no matter what you do, this scar on me will never completely heal aru. You betrayed me and you cut me. You turned your back on your entire family and-- I will not- I can never forgive you aru.”
“I-I…” Kiku bit his bottom lip and his eyes grew large filled with unshed tears for a past he deeply wished- he could have never done. But no matter what he was feeling, Kiku didn’t look away from the stare of his once only family.
“But I can put that night behind me, and I can look towards the future aru. If you’re willing, aru. I’m willing to lend you my hand again.” Smiling at the younger nation, Yao reached over the gap between their two pool chairs and held out his hand.
And Kiku saw the past.
He was in a bamboo forest, too small to find his way out and alone in a world that was much too big for him. There were tears in his eyes, but even then he refused to let them fall. When a man in green, comes out of the shoots,
There is a kind smile on his face and instantly Japan is calm. Golden eyes are looking down at him with a wisdom and love he finds he is yearning for and when the man, China, reaches out for him to take his hand. Japan looks at it for a moment….
And he reaches out and takes Yao’s hand. A smile on his face, Kiku answers his old mentor now friend.
“I would love nothing more than to be a friend to you again, Yao-san.”
~*****~
Its late and everyone has gone home, after thanking Japan for inviting them one by one the countries leave the island nation until there is only him and China left.
“It’s getting late Yao-san, you should go home before it gets too dark,” Kiku says, the old worry, he had once thought he had gotten rid of, is coming out of him as easily as his breath when it comes to the eldest of his race.
“It is getting late, aru. You should come visit me sometime Kiku, we can watch the moon again,” turning to the younger nation, with one foot out the door the Japanese man smiled down at his friend.
“I’d like that very much.”
“It’s a date then aru!” grinning at the blush that bloomed on Kiku’s face, Yao bid goodbye to the little boy all the while home whistling an old song.
“Today was, indeed, a very good day.”
______________________________________
DONE! How was it? My first Hetalia story!!!!
I’ve got more to come so stay tuned and remember to leave your loves for me!!! :3
Rating: T (for themes)
Summary: “The things he did will never be repaid, nor forgotten. Because the proof of his betrayal will always be on Yao’s back.”
Warning: nothing much, just angst and happy endings~
Disclaimer: I’m not Hidekazu Himaruya and sadly I don’t make a profit out of my fics…(though I think I should!)
~*****~
“Hey Yao! Kiku has this huge indoor swimming pool, you wanna come with us?” America asked over the phone, his loud voice drowning out the once silent peace of the Chinese man’s house.
“That sounds like fun actually, aru.” The brown haired man contemplated as he stared out towards his garden, the gurgling springs reminding him of a large pool, the thought of cool water and friends seemed so tempting in this humid dry spell they were in.
“It is! He even said that all the food and refreshments are free! Well not really but they’re at a discount or something, but I’m going to bring lots of hamburgers! You should too!” the much younger nation exclaimed, Yao could practically hear the smile on the dirty blonds’ face as he spoke.
“Aiyah, you’re going to get fat Alfred. I’ll come but I’m not bringing any more food for you to stuff down your throat, aru!”
“Aw man, come on Yao! Your food is one of the best! Better than Arthur’s even!” in his ignorance, the American couldn’t hear the Chinese curses coming from the other line.
“I’m not bringing any food, so you can keep your fatting burgers and your opium filled scones aru, goodbye.” Hanging up the phone Yao pouted for a bit before the older man smiled. Looking down and picking up his baby panda as it nestled his leg and sat quietly as he talked to the other nation,
“You know little one, I think today will be a very fun day,” and the panda nodded its little black and white head at his master.
~*****~
“Francis stop bickering with Arthur, aru!” Yao scolded the Frenchman as he fell back onto the pool chairs, under the large umbrella that protected his pale skin from the artificial light that shown above the men.
The Chinese man sighed,
“They’re old enough to care for themselves China-san, why do you continue to worry over them?” Japan’s polite and quiet voice asked from the older nations side. He too seated in a pool chair, hidden from the artificial rays of light.
It was rare for the Japanese man to talk to him, much less strike up a conversation.
Yao looked at the man who was once his younger brother, once his enemy, now his friend…if they could call themselves that. Golden eyes met with dark brown, and Yao smiled ruefully unable to completely hide the sadness in his eyes.
And Kiku knew what Yao was going to say before he said it,
“I can’t help but watch over them, aru. They’re young. They have so much to learn….” and the Chinese man looked onto the scene before him, as America swam in circles exclaiming how he could make his own pool twice as big, France and England at each others throats, Russia sitting on the pool’s edge eating shaved ice happily singing a song under his breath. And even Germany teaching Italy how to swim properly.
They were all children in the eyes of the oldest nation.
And Japan felt it. Still.
Seated beside the man that once took him under his wing and raised him up from nothing. The man who he once adored and loved above all others, China. Wang Yao, his once big brother, his nii-san.
Kiku opened his mouth, as if to say something- but closed it when he found no words would come. What would he say now? What did he want to say?
Instead Kiku looked away from his once father-figure, his mentor and guardian- friend. And looked to his fellow nations letting a smile fall onto his face. Looks like it was a good idea to invite the others to his indoor door after all.
~*****~
Some hours later after the men ate the foods, mostly American hamburgers and Japan’s food. Everyone went back to the pool,
“Hey Yao come on in!” Alfred yelled from the shallow end of the pool, waving at the Chinese man as if he were a little kid in need of encouragement to get in.
“No aru, I’m fine where I am.”
“Aww come on! I want to show you how fast I can swim!” the youngest of nations laughed, momentarily reminding Kiku of his (once) younger brother Im Yong Soo. A bitter smile and a dimming of his eyes showed his only concern before Japan hid his emotions again. Looking to China as he once again declined American’s pleading.
“Fine I’ll just go show Francis or Arthur!” in a rush to show off his super swimming skills, Alfred turned and swam away, unintentionally splashing Yao with pool water.
“Aiyah!” the 4000 year old immortal exclaimed, as he stood up abruptly. His long-sleeved red summer shirt soaked now turning a dark burgundy red. “This was a new shirt from Hong Kong too! Aiyaaah,” without much to do about his wet shirt, the Chinese man unbuttoned his top and slid his arms out of his shirt.
Putting it under the artificial rays of light, Yao hoped it would dry without leaving a water stain on the silk material. Glaring out towards the youngest nation in what he hoped to be a very angry fixed stare, he didn’t hear a light gasp come from the other Asian nation.
Kiku watched as Alfred turned and splashed his old mentor with water, not even turning around to apologize when he couldn’t have not heard Yao yell. Anger and an ugly feeling bubbled from the pits of Kiku’s stomach at such disrespect when an all too familiar guilt pulls at his heart and he looks towards Yao- almost out of instinct, as he took off his shirt.
It wasn’t often Kiku saw Yao’s skin. Not even as a child under the full watch of the Chinese man, did he ever see Yao show any skin other than necessary. He saw his hands, sometimes- when they held him and rocked him to sleep, he saw Yao neck, occasionally- when the heat was just that right amount of unbearable. And rarely, Kiku saw Yao’s forearms- only once when he rolled up his sleeves to punish him and Yong Soo for fighting in a temple.
But never, had Kiku ever seen so much of Yao’s skin.
His arms defined and still strong, centuries of martial arts. His chest small but lean, pale and perfect. His stomach, slender but not weak, the occasional flicker of abs shows Kiku that his old mentor isn’t as old as he claims to be.
Yao’s body is small, smaller now that he isn’t hidden beneath layers of fine red silk, and despite the perfection Yao’s body holds; Kiku sees the scars.
His eyes look for all the scars and wounds Yao has kept hidden away from prying eyes, for hundreds of years.
He sees the wounds of England’s kicks to his stomach, the slight deformation of his left floating ribs. Kiku sees the almost completely healed cuts and burns from America. The uneven skin tones of Yao’s collarbone and wrists, from Russia. He sees the dark bruises just barely peaking out of the waistband of Yao’s summer pants- for he’d never wear swimming trunks.
Kiku sees them all, the imperfection hidden so well underneath the perfection.
Kiku sees all the scars because he knows they are bound to be there, because he is looking for them. But one. One scar, Kiku doesn’t need to look for because there is never a need to search for it on Yao’s otherwise perfect body. It stands out on its own, for all to see should Yao ever let anyone that close again….
It is the one he, Kiku, had given to Yao….so many many years ago.
The sword scar, the cut that ran deeper than any blade of his could ever cut.
Kiku stares at the large wound, still red and raw- unclosed and just barely able to keep itself from opening again as if Yao were to bend in a certain way it would tear open and the blood would begin to seep. And Kiku can see in his mind’s eye the blood. Its on his hands…
The once pristine white sword now dyed crimson- soaked in Chinese blood. Yao’s blood. He sees the withering body of his mentor- no longer, the raven black locks unbound from his ribbon caked in mud and dirt. His shirt torn at the back as the blade- once so noble and a symbol of his pride, his blade cuts into skin and flesh and cloth.
There is a heaviness as he drags the blade across China’s back. A yelling- a scream that still rings in his nightmares, as the body of Yao falls along side his own dying people. Kiku drops the sword, his only protection against the armless mass of civilians- children and women.
And Kiku remembers there were tears in his eyes, running down his face- mingling with the blood of the people of his father and mother nation. He fell to the ground, yelling against the screams that surrounded him- in tongues he vaguely remembered he understood, looking up- pleading, towards Yao for forgiveness.
But golden eyes stared back at him.
In betrayal.
In hatred.
~*****~
“Japan? Japan are you okay, aru?” a voice asked, breaking the Japanese man’s train of thought. He looked up only to see nothing but gold. Betrayal.
He pulled back, his dark brown eyes wide and for once- frightened. “I-I’m fine China-san,”
“You’re pale, I think you’re the one who needs to join Alfred in the pool and not me, aru.” Yao commented lightly, sitting back into his chair a light twitch in his eye showing his only discomfort of the plastic material against his naked back.
For a moment, Kiku would have called his men out here in an instant and find another chair for Yao- anything to ease the pain he had caused the older nation. But, instead he did nothing.
He wasn’t in a position to do anything for Yao. Because what was he to the other man? An enemy still? A friend….? A stranger.
“I’m sorry.” The words have left his lips before he can even remember thinking them. Its reflex. Natural. His people’s way of coping with things they feel should be approached but have no idea how. Kiku has used these two words so often- even he isn’t sure if they’re real or not, and instantly they burn his tongue.
More lies and falseness. Yao turns to him and Kiku stares into golden orbs. Such wisdom and patience. Years of pains and joys, memories and tradition glow in a yellow halo in China’s eyes. Such kindness. Such Hatred.
“I’m sorry.” Lies or not?
“Why are you apologizing to me for, aru. You haven’t done anything to me,” and this time Yao is looking at the Japanese nation with a curious and weary look on his face, slowing sitting up from the laying pool chair. And he sees Kiku’s eyes instantly drawn to his back, and the twitch and dimming of dark brown eyes are enough to tell Yao everything.
Yao wants to say what he knows Kiku wants- yearns, to hear but Yao turns away from the younger man and draws his legs to his chest. He can feel Kiku’s eyes drawn to his back and this is the reason he’s sitting like this. There is reason behind everything he does.
Kiku needs to know he will not be forgiven. The things he did will never be repaid, nor forgotten. Because the proof of his betrayal will always be on Yao’s back. Always a reminder to the Japanese of his dark past- no matter how much his people may ignore and deny it; a reminder to China how to never trust so completely again.
But- that doesn’t mean they can’t start over. Somewhere….
“It looks bad doesn’t it, aru?” the younger nation looked up and flushed with guilt and embarrassment before looking away in shame. Yao would have missed the Japanese man’s head nod slight in agreement if he hadn’t been looking.
“It doesn’t hurt much aru, just numb most days,”
“….and. the other days?” he heard the younger nation whisper, almost as if he were afraid of the answer.
Yao looks over to the man who was once his beloved little brother, the pride and joy he had in him, those big brown eyes so much like Taiwan’s and Korea’s- not like his little Hong Kong who shares the same golden orbs as him, looked to him and Yao made sure Kiku would not look away,
“It burns. Those days this scar consumes me and my entire body hurts. Those days I feel I don’t have the energy to continue living and I don’t leave my house, aru.”
“C-China-san…”
“You hurt me Kiku. And no matter what you do, this scar on me will never completely heal aru. You betrayed me and you cut me. You turned your back on your entire family and-- I will not- I can never forgive you aru.”
“I-I…” Kiku bit his bottom lip and his eyes grew large filled with unshed tears for a past he deeply wished- he could have never done. But no matter what he was feeling, Kiku didn’t look away from the stare of his once only family.
“But I can put that night behind me, and I can look towards the future aru. If you’re willing, aru. I’m willing to lend you my hand again.” Smiling at the younger nation, Yao reached over the gap between their two pool chairs and held out his hand.
And Kiku saw the past.
He was in a bamboo forest, too small to find his way out and alone in a world that was much too big for him. There were tears in his eyes, but even then he refused to let them fall. When a man in green, comes out of the shoots,
There is a kind smile on his face and instantly Japan is calm. Golden eyes are looking down at him with a wisdom and love he finds he is yearning for and when the man, China, reaches out for him to take his hand. Japan looks at it for a moment….
And he reaches out and takes Yao’s hand. A smile on his face, Kiku answers his old mentor now friend.
“I would love nothing more than to be a friend to you again, Yao-san.”
~*****~
Its late and everyone has gone home, after thanking Japan for inviting them one by one the countries leave the island nation until there is only him and China left.
“It’s getting late Yao-san, you should go home before it gets too dark,” Kiku says, the old worry, he had once thought he had gotten rid of, is coming out of him as easily as his breath when it comes to the eldest of his race.
“It is getting late, aru. You should come visit me sometime Kiku, we can watch the moon again,” turning to the younger nation, with one foot out the door the Japanese man smiled down at his friend.
“I’d like that very much.”
“It’s a date then aru!” grinning at the blush that bloomed on Kiku’s face, Yao bid goodbye to the little boy all the while home whistling an old song.
“Today was, indeed, a very good day.”
______________________________________
DONE! How was it? My first Hetalia story!!!!
I’ve got more to come so stay tuned and remember to leave your loves for me!!! :3