In order to celebrate HETALIA'S anime adaptation. AXIS POWERS HETALIA KINK MEME
axis powers
hetalia kink meme
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Okay, let's make history and be more epic than these people, shall we?
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Yong Su stills, awareness beginning to trickle back. “Gege,” he murmurs back, and then he throws his arms around Yao in return and wails “Gege!”
“Hush,” Yao whispers, his hand skating over the layer of bandages coating Yong Su’s back, nearly a match for his own. “It’s all right. Hush. Hush.”
***
“I was tired,” Yong Su tells him in between mouthfuls of rice. They sit almost propped against a wall as they eat, draped in the blankets they slept on in lieu of shirts. “Of him. I couldn’t give in anymore. In our own language I told him where he could stick his if he thought he could make us use it, and he... and after that Jun took me out and carried me when I couldn’t walk, all the way here.” He falls silent, scraping down the bowl to pick up the last grains, and then says “I need to go back.”
“No,” Yao says immediately. The new set of bandages are tight against his skin, expertly applied by the grandmother of the family. Blood is not so quick to seep through by now. “No. Stay. This land is partly yours in any case. It was Gaogouli’s once, and the two of you are his heirs.” A fleeting part of him thinks that it’s not wise to say that, to give rise to more territorial claims, but by now the rest of him thinks they are long past this. “And you can’t go back to his house like this.”
“I have to go back,” Yong Su tells him. “Just because we both got away from his house this once doesn’t mean they will. I can’t leave them there alone.”
“Stay just a little longer,” Yao insists. “You can’t help your people like this.”
Yong Su laughs. “I can’t help them anyway.”
“No. You can’t say that. You can’t believe that. Not you.”
“He’s taking everything away again. Rice, metal, tongues. People. Maybe if we had a navy again. Even he had to admit...”
As long as they’re reversing things - Yong Su is usually the one to run to him, to hold out his arms expecting an embrace or else to cling to him directly. Now Yao sets down his bowl, reaches over, turns him around and takes him in his arms again, and Yong Su stares at him, silenced, before leaning down and resting his head on Yao’s shoulder.
***
When Yao sleeps that night he remembers the rice burning in the paddies. He remembers bodies clogging the Yangtze. He remembers the rattle of machine guns, the squelch of bayonets. He remembers men insisting they weren’t soldiers and whether that was truth or lie what was done to them was the same. He remembers women pleading, which made about as much difference. He remembers Kiku at his door, remembers the cries of No! Stop! I’m not! You’re wrong! Please!
***
“Gege,” he hears periodically through the persistent torrent, and then Yao seizes on the word and bites his tongue and starts to see with his eyes again. He’s been pulled up into Yong Su’s cross-legged lap as the latter speaks in clumsy Mandarin, not in the earlier instinct of half-panic, an ingrained courtesy, but a language chosen, he can tell, with thought behind it - “Big brother, big brother, it’s all right. He’s not here, you see.” Yao, gradually comprehending, stares straight ahead through the half-dark toward Yong Su’s collarbone. “It’s your little brother. Your little brothers. Jun? Jun?” Behind him, he hears Yong Jun’s wordless descent to the floor, feels him nestle against his back. The brothers’ arms interlace around him.
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