Title: Bells of Nagasaki
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Greece, Japan
Rating: PG-13
Summary: de-anon from the kinkmeme. Prompt was a reunion after WWII.
Notes: Some editing done to this version, and I do believe it reads much better now. I've also added an extra scene and hopefully it sounds much more complete this way.

~.*.~

1922

He opens his eyes, pieces of a dream lingering in the deepest recesses of his mind as he shakes away the remnants of slumber. Beside him, legs tucked neatly under him much like how a cat tucks its paws in from the cold, Japan sits, a book laying open in one lap and a kitten curled into a ball on another.

Greece smiles – a quiet, unassuming smile – and watches as Japan's chest moves slowly as he breathes, raven-black hair skimming over his eyes while his head droops a little in a light doze.

They had been friends for a long time.

He leans back lazily on his elbows, staring straight out at the vast expanse of the Mediterranean, the warmth of the sun upon his cheeks. White ships bob along the blue coastline, dotting the sea like miniscule toys. A bell chimes faintly from distant hills. He feels a soft weight resting against his shoulder and he shifts his gaze. Japan eyes are still closed, oblivious in sleep, and Greece's lips quirk into a tiny curve then, the warmth of the sun now in his chest.

They had been friends for a long time and Greece is content.

~.*.~

October 1940

Slowly, slowly, the seasons change like the ebb and flow of the sea; twisting and churning, a multitude of events swirling out of hand. Chaos eats away at the world as Ares whispers gleefully into the ears and hearts of men, promising them power and dominion over lands. They lap eagerly at them even if they were empty promises, for Ares offers only discord and destruction.

Italy charges into his home, driven by envy and need, wanting desperately to prove his worth. Greece understands his motivations but still, he does not agree.

Freedom or death, he tells Italy. We are slaves to no one but ourselves.

Japan is Italy's friend - Japan has always been friends with many Europeans. But Greece isn't too sure what Japan is doing anymore, amidst this growing mess – does Japan himself know? Either way, Greece finds he cannot agree.

~.*.~

December 1941

"Excuse me?"

Greece allows himself a sad smile, teal eyes resting on his friend. Japan remains impassive, his face but a mask. His eyes however, tell a different story – Greece sees the storm restrained within them, almost, almost ready to break but Japan holds them back with as much grace as he could muster. He lowers his head a little, as if in apology while keeping his gaze steady on the other man, not breaking eye-contact.

"I can't support what you are doing anymore." He says softly, his voice tinged with regret.

"... I see." Japan looks away, his shoulders tense. "Then I suppose there is nothing left to say."

Greece continues to gaze at him, as Japan tightens the cold and collected mask further around him.

"You're angry."

It isn't a question.

"I- I... ," A flicker of emotion crosses Japan's face for a second before he composes himself once more and flatly declares, "I am not."

He wishes then that Greece would stop looking at him like that: like how he knows there is this ball of emotion twisting in his gut now; like how he knows Japan is upset and angry at Greece's words, at Greece's decision; that he even feels betrayed by it, although why he feels that way, Japan himself can't quite explain. He has never expected any more from Greece before, after all. So why did his heart feel so torn at such news? Stubbornly, Japan tells himself it is unimportant.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot stand by and watch idly while you choose to walk down this path."

"As a friend, you would not have broken off ties regardless of my choice."

"As a friend, I would point out the wrong you are doing, rather than gloss over it or pretend that it is glorious. There is nothing glorious about war, Kiku."

Japan sets his glass down with more force than he'd intended to, and standing up, turns on his heels and heads towards the door. He pauses for a fraction, as if steeling himself for something, but he doesn't look back.

"I don't need you, any of you." He says tersely, biting back the bitterness in his voice.

The words sting but Greece knows better – they sting much like how a cat's swipe would and Greece understands the hurt in them, understands that Japan is confused and doesn't really comprehend this burning desire and power that rages within him. But most of all, he understands Japan is afraid; of this power he doesn't yet grasp, of weakness and of being seen as weak, of loneliness...

Greece almost, almost wants to reach out and touch Japan...

But he doesn't. He doesn't and only watches silently as Japan walks away. He watches silently, standing firm by his decision even if his heart wants otherwise. Nations don't get to choose their own destiny, after all, not when war was inevitable.

"Antío, kardiá mou."

Farewell, my heart.

~.*.~

9 August 1945

Takashi thinks this will have to do. If anything, he yearns to keep his family together, complete as one unit. But times are hard, and there is fighting – news reports and tales of soldiers faraway, gunshots and bomb-attacks – so much fighting. Together with his wife, they agree to send the children away to the countryside.

It is for the best.

In the countryside they would see more of the sky, taste the crisp, chilly air and... and the freedom; they would have all which seemed lacking in the cities. Above all, they would be safe.

It is morning now, and Takashi stamps his feet, shaking the dirt from his soles as he continued walking. From afar, the cathedral bells chime and he checks his watch for the time. He is on his way to work, after saying goodbye to his wife. Halfway down the street, he stops and thinks. He suddenly remembers his lunch – which he has forgotten to bring with him, how careless of him – and turns back to the house to retrieve it.

He sees Midori the second time that morning, and she laughs softly, chiding him good-naturedly for being forgetful. She tells him to hurry or he will be late for work.

He chuckles, and – "Hai, hai!" – nods at her, holding up the lunch bag to show her he remembers it this time, before he brushes his hand lightly over her cheek.

"Good bye."

"Good bye."

Three hours and two minutes into the morning–

–a terrible flash and then a deafening bang–

–and the bells stop their chiming; the city sears to the ground, burning.

"Good bye."

"Good bye."

... Sayōnara.

~.*.~

15 August 1945

Greece feels his heart rend in two as he listens to the news, the voice on the radio monotonous. Unspeaking, he draws Corporal Cat into his hold. She looks at him pointedly, her amber eyes bright, and gently licks his ear in comfort.

Outside in the streets, men continue their rambunctious shouting.

~.*.~

June 2005

As he loosens the tie from his shirt and runs a hand through his hair absent-mindedly, he glances up at the city skyline in awe. Tokyo is a vibrant city, its streets bustling with activity, a cacophonic and whimsical blend of consumerism, culture and the contemporary. Here and there, girls in short, short skirts, faces all dolled up and boys in uniforms and spiked hair, a clip or two holding a fringe in place. Women and men in business suits walking, always walking, swiftly like the tide – a human tide that ebbs and flows like the seasons, like the sea beyond them.

"Osore irimasu, sumimasen."

Greece is so fascinated by the view that he almost doesn't hear the soft voice beside him. He pulls his gaze away from the city lights and brings them to rest upon the figure standing on his right.

"Iapo̱nía." He says simply, before recalling where he was, and dips his head in a polite bow. Japan smiles then, and returns the bow.

"Girisha-san." Japan begins tentatively as he studies the Grecian's features.

Greece wants to reach out then and touch that picture-perfect face... but he doesn't. Instead, he returns the smile, the warmth of friendship within his eyes.

"It's been a long time."

"Ah, it has."

"I've never realize how beautiful Tokyo was at night, until now."

"Indeed, it is."

"... Will you show me around? I would love to see more of your home."

Will you show me your heart once more? I want us to be friends again.

Greece doesn't know what Japan feels after all these years, after all the hurt and bitterness, after all the pain and suffering of war. He doesn't know and he isn't too sure where they'd go from here. But nonetheless he tries... he wants to try. Would Japan want to as well?

He hopes and waits, a tight drumming within his chest. Japan doesn't reply straight away, his face stoic, his gaze clouded with unseen things.

A momentary pause, the world waiting with bated breath and then –

"I would be honoured to, I̱raklí̱."

Japan bowed again, his cheeks dusted with the slightest hint of a blush and Greece feels the warmth returning to his chest.

'*'

When Greece feels Japan arching his back against him, feels his breath on his chest and that slow rush of warmth coursing through him, he doesn't think, he doesn't question. He only feels; he feels Japan's breath in his ear, feels the heat radiating off that pale skin and the sweat on his lips with every kiss. He feels, not questioning or thinking, letting himself be lost in the sensations, their body and hearts so tightly knitted, so entwined, Greece doesn't even know where it all starts and where it all ends.

When he feels Japan's gasp of ecstasy, feels his fingers digging into burning skin and feels their bodies rocking in release, Greece doesn't care anymore. They did not speak, because there is no reason to; Japan understands and Greece understands and all is right again. As he feels Japan slowly curling up beside him, eyes heavy with sleep, he smiles.

He has found his heart again and Greece is content.

~.*.~

August 2011

The wind blows, a soft warm breeze. Gently, gently, the gingko leaves swirl up into the endless blue sky. Greece watches them as they dance - leaves dancing in divine winds, circling between life and death - and he lets out a tiny sigh. How many years has it been? Fifty, seventy... a century? He forgets because nations, fortunately (unfortunately?) live for a very, very long time.

He continues to watch the sky in silence until he feels Japan move beside him.

"What are you thinking about?"

Greece doesn't reply immediately.

"A lot of things." He finally says. "About the world. About the wars and thereafter, about relationships and ties that somehow never break in spite of everything, good and bad." He rests his gaze upon his friend. "About us... mostly about you..."

Japan blushes then, if only a little, but allows his lips to quirk into the tiniest of smiles.

As the cathedral bells began to chime, filling the air with their ringing, Japan turns and slowly makes his way down the path. Greece follows, his steps languid, but he soon catches up with Japan and together, they walk in silence through the park. They pass the monuments erected all around, gifts from friends over the world, all their wishes and hopes engraved deeply into the sculptures.

Protection. Friendship. Life.

Hope.

Peace.

Greece understands it would be naive to think peace lasted forever, that ties would never be severed again; he has lived long enough to understand otherwise. But when Japan stops midway to gaze at him again, an unspoken promise in those eyes, he feels something else inside his chest. He smiles.

Never again.

They could not speak for both their futures but for now... for now, they were friends again - perhaps even more- friends with unsaid promises and undisclosed desires, and that alone is enough for Greece to wish for.

Far away, the bells continue to chime.

-télos-

:::

Translations

Sayōnara (japanese) – goodbye/farewell; usually only used when you will not be seeing the person for a very long time, or when you don't know when you will meet again...or for someone you will never meet again.

Osore irimasu, sumimasen (japanese) – Excuse me, I'm sorry

Girisha-san (japanese) – Greece-san

Iapo̱nía (greek) – Japan

Antío, kardiá mou (greek) – Farewell, my friend

I̱raklí̱ (greek) – Herakles's name in pronounced Greek

:::

Notes

- Greece and Japan first establish diplomatic relations in 1899, and since then they have enjoyed a close and beneficial relationship, the only hiccup being during WWII.

- Driven by his envy of Hitler's conquest, and feeling the need to re-assert Italy's military prowess, Mussolini launched an attack on Greece in 1940. The Hellenic Army fought back however, and Italy was forced to retreat, and eventually needed Germany to step in to help invade Greece.

- "Freedom or death" or "Elef̱thería í̱ thánatos" is Greece's motto, which is still used officially today. To Mussolini's ultimate demand to occupy Greek territory, Greece's reply was "Ochi", a firm "No" in Greek.

- "... does Japan himself know?" Japan has always had self-identity issues, from the time of Meiji Restoration and throughout the period of their modernisation up to the two world wars. After the atomic bombings, the Greek Embassy donated a peace bell to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park. Inscribed on the bell in Greek (along with Japanese and Sanskrit) was the quote "Know thyself."

- A "Peace Symbols Zone" was established in the Nagasaki Peace Park. Monuments/sculptures of peace were donated from all over the world. It's not shown on the Wiki page, but Greece donated a Flame of Commitment that "burns to symbolize the pledge that Nagasaki shall remain the last city on Earth to experience nuclear devastation, that nuclear war shall never again be wages and that there shall be no more bomb victims."

- Dr Takashi Nagai and his wife Midori were real people who lived in Nagasaki during WWII. The scene is based off his accounts of the bombing. He survived the blast. His wife unfortunately did not.

- Although he suffered from leukaemia due to radiation exposure, he continued to care for his patients. He wrote books on spiritual healing and forgiveness, and gives his on real-life account of the Nagasaki bombing in his book The Bells of Nagasaki, which is where the title of this fic comes from.

- Music which inspired me during the writing and editing of this piece, A Small Measure of Peace:
http:(doubleslash) .com(slash)watch?v=GWm8-jlddaw

- I must say after editing this and re-writing some parts, I am quite fond of this fic; it has everything I'd always wanted to explore - history and relationships, and Giripan. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :')

:::

Edited (26/09/2017): Thanks anon, for pointing out the spelling/grammar mistakes I made in Herakles' Greek name and the Greek sentences!