Give Me A Sign [1951] -- (OPEN)

[Hiroshima]

Dead star shine, light up the sky
I'm all out of breath, my walls are closing in
______________________

SEPTEMBER 8, 1951
WAR MEMORIAL OPERA HOUSE

Hiroshima stumbled, catching himself on a railing. He clutched at the sleek guide rail almost desperately; knuckles white thanks to his deathgrip. He shivered raggedly, the tremors wracking down his spine. Honestly, he was a mess these past few years.

'Mess' didn't even begin to cover it, though, if you asked the prefecture personally. He had become terribly paranoid, more cowardly than a small, timid kitten. Planes absolutely terrified him now (though again, if you asked him, he would pridefully deny such things as though they were myth or rumour). Poor health was something he'd grown almost accustomed to, these days. Everything ached, and migraine headaches were the norm. (As was feeling the world spin out of his control, as well as the wonderful thing called radiation poisoning.)

So, he asked himself, why the bloody fucking hell was he here?
There were the obvious reasons: he had to be there to support his brother, yes? That was a matter of honour as well as one of a family nature. All of that meant sitting quietly, listening as each of the Allied powers said their piece against Japan(it seemed like the whole world was there; did his brother have a real friend in this wide world?) . It was enough to make Yuu want to leap across the table at them, if he'd had the strength to. Instead, though, he sat perfectly still beside his elder brother, running purple-blue Shinto meditation beads through his palm. It kept his temper, although honestly he knew he could not take any of these nations on; to each and every one, he was their junior by at least a century or more. He would be an easy target, far too easy to take down. Little, bony, lithe Hiroshima; frail weakened by war and radiation sickness.

“Che,” He spat aloud, holding himself up as well as he could on both tremoring arms. It hurt, really. Everything hurt. Even his pride was severely battered by this whole ‘total warfare’ thing the Japanese prime minister had spoken of. It was useless, anyway. War was a horrid, brutal thing. Always repeating itself, and taking with it its casualties. Reflecting bitterly on these thoughts, the young prefecture tugged agitatedly at his foreshortened hair, growling as it barely reached the edge of his jaw. Not as though he cared for such shallow things, but he had always been accustomed to hair being at least the length of his shoulders. Longer, if he let it grow.

Letting go of the strands, a sharp gasp escaped Yuu as he felt himsel f waver again. Oh, what fun was walking down a flight of stairs. Dizzily, he clutched the railing again, gritting his teeth; determined not to tumble to certain injury and unconsciousness. He was probably a spectacle, he thought, half-mocking himself. A frail, thin Asian boy, clutching to something so simple as a railing as though it was his one and only lifeline. Trembling as if very, very afraid. Almost as if he had seen a ghost. Letting out a soft ragged sigh, the Japanese teenager continued carefully down the flight of stairs, intent on reaching the bottom without any more dizziness or (heavens forbid) fainting. Che, he wasn’t that weak, no matter what anyone in this damn Conference may have thought about him.

__________________
I can feel you falling away
No longer the lost, no longer the same

A/N: I've discussed this with Nihon and Mer, and... It's something I wanted to explore for a while now. Practically the entire world was at the signing of the San Francisco Treaty. The Soviet Union was in attendance, but did not sign due to the exclusion of communist China.

[Japan]

Kiku chose not to speak as he heard his brother stumble again against the rail, only a few steps behind. He wanted to reach back, to hold and support him, carry him to safety...

However, they were in public. Such things would show weakness, ruin the prefecture's pride, cast them both as weak and helpless in the eyes of the world (most of which was already down in the lobby below - Japan wasn't even sure why most of them were here). Despite all of that, though, the nation refused to stray far from his brother's side. It seemed more and more like they were each other's only allies, only friends, in this whole world right now. No, he would stay close by.

The careful composure that Kiku had spent centuries practicing had never been as tested as during this conference. One by one, nations stood to condemn him, cry foul against him, list his crimes (though who defines what is a "crime" during war? The whole thing is a series of crimes.), and every time, he remained seated, hands clasped neatly in his lap, eyes lowered just enough to be respectful, just enough to hide the fire and defiance and hate for this whole situation, just enough to show understanding but not, by any means, submission.

Would no one ask his story? His reasons? His thoughts? His grievances? No, of course not - after all, he was on trial, guilty until... well, just guilty. The only question was how guilty.

As they made their way down the stairs, Japan's knees quivered. He remembered with painful clarity, on August 6, six years ago, how his left leg shook and shuddered and gave out under his weight, and August 9 of that same year, how his right leg had done exactly the same thing as the other southern prefecture was decimated by a weapon that should not exist. He remembered, too, how just six days later, he had knelt in his office on those same shaking legs and thrust a short blade into his stomach, drawn it across his abdomen for the first time in centuries.

He still wasn't sure he had forgiven America for keeping him alive that day.

He pulled himself back to the present, though, to the murmur of conversation downstairs - an obnoxious burst of laughter pierced the air, completely out of place with the business just discussed - and the sound of his beloved brother's breath shuddering and catching as he leaned too heavily against the wall.

That was the other thing he didn't think he could forgive himself for - single-handedly bringing that death and destruction upon his family, his people.

[Hiroshima]

Dead star shine, light up the sky
I'm all out of breath, my walls are closing in
______________________

Yuu shivered to himself, wincing at the sudden, loud burst of laughter. Just who in the hell...? He shook it off. It wasn't important for now. There would be another time in which he'd investigate the mysterious, out-of-context noise. Argh. Trying his best to breathe evenly, the prefecture stumbled down the next few steps, mind set on catching up to his brother. Every strained motion, though, ached beyond his imagination. He hissed out a breath, trying his hardest to remain expressionless -- betrayal of pain, after all, was weakness (at least that was how he had been taught).

He would be strong, damn it all, even though it was just for his stupid pride, and nothing more. But, a small voice in the back of his head whispered, its tone chiding, It isn’t just for you. It’s for your Onii-san, too. The Japanese teen nodded slowly to this mental reassurance, stumbling further in a small attempt to catch up to his brother – he wasn’t that far away, but still. It was enough that he was there; they had to support each other, as their only friends and allies at this point.

Was it enough, by this point, that the Allies had his brother’s surrender? Did they really need this, or was it just an assurance of ego? Growling to himself, Yuu was absolutely certain it had to be the latter. Lost enough in his fuming thoughts by now, the prefecture found himself startled at the sudden burst of noise, the horribly out-of-place laughter in such a dark time. It seemed almost too sunny, too bright, given the dreary atmosphere of the opera house. A small burst of golden sunshine peeking through a storm cloud, if you will. That sunshine was unnecessary, though, Hiroshima thought with an experimental shake of his head. As welcome as a bullet to the head. Or…

Ugh. No. He refused to think of the events of the war, closing his eyes tightly against the memories. Shades as they were, he just could not seem to pull himself out of this… trance? Shell-shock? Uncertain what to call it, the Japanese slowly caught up to his elder brother, attempting a shaken little smile at him. A reassurance that he was still there. It didn’t feel right, unfortunately, and he dropped the expression. ”…Che.” It was nothing more than a vocalisation of his distaste and irritation, frustrated by the optimism downstairs. It was probably Alfred.

Alfred. That was the idiot American's name, as he recalled being told -- the person who committed such a war atrocity in what seemed to be a fit of revenge. Why wasn't he being charged for any war crimes? He had, in Yuu's opinion, been more guilty than his Onii-san in the area of bombings. The word alone made him shudder. Then again, the prefecture thought with a dark note, the American was the 'hero'. He'd 'saved' the world from the Empire of the Sun. "Fucker." His tone was soft and the word had been forced, but it was the only way he could truly express his hatred for the Allied nation; at least, at the moment. As though envisioning the idiot's throat, Hiroshima's hand tightened over the railing, knuckles whitening due to the iron grip.

_____________________________
Daylight dies
Black out the sky

[America]

Come undone, surrender is stronger
I don't need to be the hero tonight
___________________

Over. The war was finally officially over with the signing of the peace treaty. Even after he had said his own piece, Alfred could only sit in one of the main seats, twirling his pen on the table and keeping his chin in his open palm as others stood at the podium, many giving so-called hard evidence of Japan's continually growing mountain of war crimes. However, none of them saw him that day. That day almost one month ago with Ja-- Kiku laying in a steadily growing pool of his own blood, blade laying not much further away from his felled form. The last remaining remnant of the Empire of the Sun. The last small piece bleeding out with the defeated nation laying on the floor, usually crisp white uniform stained red.

Despite what he himself had done not six days before that...He didn't understand himself why exactly he saved Kiku that day. He had an inkling as to why, though it was a thought that haunted his thoughts since that day. Even during the meeting, the thought haunted him.

Even with the signing, there always had to be some sort of problem to come up from it. Russia had to cause a problem by making a big deal about not being part of the writing of it, and with China not being invited to the meeting. Hell, everyone knew China was having problems already trying to get back to his feet. Why cause more issues by asking him to even come?

Oh well. What's done is done, can't go back on it now.

Even after the meeting adjourned and signatures were made, it was still horribly somber. Despite such, one would think it would have been a bleak day. But no. It was bright, warm, sunny. A sign of new hope and a new beginning for everyone maybe? A good outcome was to come now that the war was finally over? Maybe now there would finally be peace again and things could go back to normal or as normal as they could possibly get after a major war?

Something that was said as everyone filed out of the room caught his ears, unable to stop himself from letting out a loud, abet inappropriately timed, laugh that filled the different corridors.

It was a new day and a new beginning. For everyone. He was sure everything would be ok, it had to be now.

We all want love, we all want honor
Nobody wants to pay the asking price
___________________

[Japan]

He paused as he waited for his brother to catch up to him. He truly hated how he thought at times... Right now, for instance. He looked at his brother and the first thoughts to his mind were injured, sick, damaged, weak, useless, burdensome.... and lastly, guilt. This condition, this poison in his body, this frailty, was his fault. He said nothing as Yuu staggered, but held out a hand discreetly to him. He would not force assistance on his beloved Nii-san, but make it known that the help was there.

He hated forced kindness.

He hated many things right now.

Most of them were in San Francisco at this very moment.

In fact, they were in this very building. But what was one more false treaty signed at knife- or gun-point?

But he had to maintain his calm, keep his composure, his patience... If there was one thing he had really learned from his... from China (he had lost the right to call him anything but the most formal of titles)... if he had learned one thing from him, it was patience. All things would be made clear with time, and the scales would tip again.

On the other hand, though...

On the other hand, his economy was thriving.

He was growing stronger every day, and his cities were being rebuilt.

He could almost walk without hurting.

Because of the very nation that had so devastated him.

Quite the conundrum.

He got ahead of himself, though. (As uncharacteristic as that was for him, there he stood.) Still torn between resentment, anger and gratitude, and frustrated with this position in which he found himself, he looked outward, scanning the room at the bottom of the stairs. People socializing, just conversing as though... Well, they were not in his position. All they had to do was either present their 'evidence' (more than evidence, it seemed like the baseless list of grievances against Germany after the First Great War, placing blame on his country for the things that happened after another acted in hostility). That wasn't a particularly taxing experience.

A/N: Finished this time. Pushy muse was uncharacteristically pushy.

[America]

Wrap me in a bolt of lightning
Send me on my way still smiling
_______________

Everyone had begun to leave already, all seeming to be ready to put the 'meeting' and all of the everything behind them. Not that he could blame them, now all that was left to do was the clean-up and reconstruction. Though, he knew that wasn't all that was what had to be done. A lot needed to be done, as well as too much that was too early to confront. He felt his head give a small shake, hand raising to push his bangs out of his eyes. Damn. God he hated feeling like this; that sinking, sick feeling deep in the pit of his gut. That feeling that he hadn't been able to shake since...That day.

He had found himself beginning to wander now, to move down the mostly noiseless hallways. Needed a minute to think he guessed, that's what it was. Just needed a minute to think. The war was now officially over, but somehow it didn't feel like it was. Why he wasn't sure, it just felt that way. Maybe it was cause of his own unfinished business, even though the treaty was supposedly what would clear up all of the loose ends. It looked good on paper, but that's all it was.

Stopping for a minute when he heard footsteps and quiet voices on the stairwell, his head tilted slightly before turning to look and see who was still actually around.

Two of the people that he didn't want to see.

Two of the people that he hoped he wouldn't see.

Two of the people that he wasn't ready to see.

Not after what he did.

His lips had curled downward into a frown at the sight of the kid struggling on the stairs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Japan there too...If they had turned around to see him, confront him, what was he supposed to do let alone say? Sorry and move on?

No.

He wasn't ready.

He wasn't ready in the least.

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and began to walk forward again without as much of a word to either of them. God what a coward he was, leaving with his tail between his legs. Even though the treaty promised a new day and upcoming peace, that wouldn't be the case for years to come. Maybe on outside appearances, but not on the inside. For how long though, he didn't know. They would just have to deal with it until everything could be confronted and dealt with.

Maybe that's the way I should go
Straight into the mouth of the unknown
_______________

[Hiroshima]

The town is filled with brilliant lights
The chill of anesthetic aether
__________________

Blinking down at the discreetly-offered hand for a moment, the city didn't respond as quickly as he normally would have. It was his brother, he knew how much it wounded both of their prides to be in this position of all things. Tentative though, he laced his hand with Kiku's, unable to control how it shook, making the other's tremble, too. God damnit. There had to be some way to stop this. This poison in his body. This frailty. The city, he knew, was being rebuilt, but the people were far from healed. It hurt him to even think of, by now.

True, this signing meant a new day; the daybreak through the darkness of the Second World War. But he couldn't see it. Couldn't even perceive it.

But, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Isn't it?

Squeezing his brother's fingers in his own, the younger Japanese gave a weak half-smile, an attempt at optimism while they were both in such a dark place. "Onii-san... Tha - thank you," He whispered in their native language; he had kept this quiet, subdued tone all day, no need to break it now.

He paused, though, curious, at the sound of quiet footsteps behind them. Just crossing nearby, but still. Hiroshima turned to catch sight of the blond, studying his form for a moment.

Then, recognition struck him.

Dislike. Hatred.

Fear?

No.

He didn't want to think of it. Was that person even the one that'd decimated himself and his sister? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had no doubts. Merely a faint, wavering anger. "Is that..." He trailed off, dark eyes trained on the retreating figure so very nearby. True, now that he thought about it. That was America. On the Allied Forces. The one who'd put them both in this situation. He didn't like the look of the nation. Not one bit.

Turning his gaze back to his brother (and the staircase), he figured that they'd probably run into each other at the bottom.

But... Then what?

It wasn't as simple as an apology. At the very least, the American seemed to know that much.

__________________
I want to dive into the nuclear reactor
Surrounded by the beautiful blue light