炉心融解
Title: roshin yuukai
Rating: Supposed to be G, but to be safe PG13 for violent imagery.
Genre: Drama/Angst
Prompt(s)/Theme(s): the sky is falling
Characters/Pairings: Japan, the Asian family (plus OCs Macau, Singapore, Philippines), mentions of the Axis Powers and America
Summary: Kiku just wanted them to be his.
Notes: A shout-out to the authors of the fanfics “Infinity”, “Snapshots in History” (from FF.net), “Coming of Age” and “Hanil Hapbang Neugyak” (from LJ) whose works I used for reference. This fic was made for me to remember Japan’s history when we had our quiz bee, so I’m gonna try not to plagiarize…
Warnings: Obvious references to WWII the Death March, the atomic bomb, and other instances of Japanese imperialism. Experimental writing style.
~
Maybe it’s all for the best.
Lying on his futon, he doesn’t sleep (he couldn’t sleep); he remembers.
Meimei’s patronizing but resigned look as she smiled at him for the last time. (She really did love Japan, more than a brother even - but he had gone too far)
“Sayonara, Nihon.” She smiles, tears of joy and regret intermingling in her once-cheerful eyes, the eyes that once smiled and cried for him, and him alone.
Yong Soo’s fiery anger as he was forced into surrender. (He had always liked him, idolized his “Hyung-nim”, but one tap of his sword was all it took to send everything crumbling down)
“Gukchi-il.” He mumbles, slowly, deliberately, but Japan doesn’t hear him, his eyes more focused on South Korea’s shaking right hand.
Shun’s shrill shrieks when a katana pierced through pale skin. (It was something that made their little plum want to hit him, for once - she adored Hong Kong)
Hong Kong was silent during the whole ordeal, as if daring Japan to break him, never knowing the other would succeed.
Little Macau shivering, crying, pleading for mercy. (Japan didn’t care much for Portugal, but Macau made him remember his past)
He remembered his childhood and forced himself not to think about whether he’d still be this way had China not took him in such a brusque manner.
Singapore chewing on her sweet potato, slowly, lazily, without a care in the world. (As if all was well in her house)
She was a clever young girl; she could’ve snuck out, out loudly declared that she wasn’t Yao’s sibling (just as he did in the past), but she was loyal, unlike him, and so she stayed.
He laughed bitterly. A warm, loving family. A happy, prosperous life. All shattered due to one preposterous dream.
“The world shall revolve around a Rome-Berlin-Tokyo axis.” Germany tells him, as easily as one would say that the sky is blue; Italy’s mouth was in a thin line, it was hard to tell whether he was worried or serious.
He remembers his other little sister, weak but not surrendering, latching onto Alfred’s arm.
“You can never break me, Kuya.” It hurt not because she said it, but because she said it while hanging on for dear life to the blond Nation; it was hard to recognize which of the two was hurt more than the other.
And sure enough, he did not.
As the seconds ticked past, he allowed his lips to turn up into a forgotten smile. He was Japan, and he will give up; it shall all end soon.
If anything could have been heard over the blast of the Little Boy, it would have been the sound of shed tears.
without me, for sure, a perfect world
Rating: Supposed to be G, but to be safe PG13 for violent imagery.
Genre: Drama/Angst
Prompt(s)/Theme(s): the sky is falling
Characters/Pairings: Japan, the Asian family (plus OCs Macau, Singapore, Philippines), mentions of the Axis Powers and America
Summary: Kiku just wanted them to be his.
Notes: A shout-out to the authors of the fanfics “Infinity”, “Snapshots in History” (from FF.net), “Coming of Age” and “Hanil Hapbang Neugyak” (from LJ) whose works I used for reference. This fic was made for me to remember Japan’s history when we had our quiz bee, so I’m gonna try not to plagiarize…
Warnings: Obvious references to WWII the Death March, the atomic bomb, and other instances of Japanese imperialism. Experimental writing style.
~
Maybe it’s all for the best.
Lying on his futon, he doesn’t sleep (he couldn’t sleep); he remembers.
Meimei’s patronizing but resigned look as she smiled at him for the last time. (She really did love Japan, more than a brother even - but he had gone too far)
“Sayonara, Nihon.” She smiles, tears of joy and regret intermingling in her once-cheerful eyes, the eyes that once smiled and cried for him, and him alone.
Yong Soo’s fiery anger as he was forced into surrender. (He had always liked him, idolized his “Hyung-nim”, but one tap of his sword was all it took to send everything crumbling down)
“Gukchi-il.” He mumbles, slowly, deliberately, but Japan doesn’t hear him, his eyes more focused on South Korea’s shaking right hand.
Shun’s shrill shrieks when a katana pierced through pale skin. (It was something that made their little plum want to hit him, for once - she adored Hong Kong)
Hong Kong was silent during the whole ordeal, as if daring Japan to break him, never knowing the other would succeed.
Little Macau shivering, crying, pleading for mercy. (Japan didn’t care much for Portugal, but Macau made him remember his past)
He remembered his childhood and forced himself not to think about whether he’d still be this way had China not took him in such a brusque manner.
Singapore chewing on her sweet potato, slowly, lazily, without a care in the world. (As if all was well in her house)
She was a clever young girl; she could’ve snuck out, out loudly declared that she wasn’t Yao’s sibling (just as he did in the past), but she was loyal, unlike him, and so she stayed.
He laughed bitterly. A warm, loving family. A happy, prosperous life. All shattered due to one preposterous dream.
“The world shall revolve around a Rome-Berlin-Tokyo axis.” Germany tells him, as easily as one would say that the sky is blue; Italy’s mouth was in a thin line, it was hard to tell whether he was worried or serious.
He remembers his other little sister, weak but not surrendering, latching onto Alfred’s arm.
“You can never break me, Kuya.” It hurt not because she said it, but because she said it while hanging on for dear life to the blond Nation; it was hard to recognize which of the two was hurt more than the other.
And sure enough, he did not.
As the seconds ticked past, he allowed his lips to turn up into a forgotten smile. He was Japan, and he will give up; it shall all end soon.
If anything could have been heard over the blast of the Little Boy, it would have been the sound of shed tears.
without me, for sure, a perfect world