The Warlord's Blade

An ancient sword sends Switzerland through time and space to the Sengoku Era in Japan where he meets a Japan very different from the one he knew. (Swiss/Japan) A tale of love across centuries.

This is written for the legendary Miss Macabre Grey whose tale still echoes down the corridor of Hetalia Fanfiction. All hail the Grey!

*ahem* Now for the actual story (warning there is strong language):

These meetings are fucking pointless.

Switzerland hated every second of sitting through them, listening to the nations squabble endlessly about stupid shit. England was the podium droning on and on. Weren't the British supposed to be eloquent speakers? What the fuck happened with England?

If he wasn't tired of polishing his pistol under the table - his actual pistol - he wouldn't have even given the thought two seconds of consideration. If they noticed he would leave because like hell would he let them confiscate his firearms. Unlike America, he wasn't cool with that.

Then you're boss will cut your allowance, he reminded himself. His boss was a little fed up with all the meetings Switzerland had tried to bail on, but could they be any more pointless? He was about to claw his eyeballs out for boredom.

During some of the dullest moments, he had honestly contemplated faking his own death just so he wouldn't have to go anymore. He had the firearms collection to do it. Of course, unlike America who collected American guns, Switzerland preferred the more classic collection. His were weapons from all over the world and of different ages. A collection he was rather proud of. His favorites were his katanas.

His green eyes flickered over to Japan at the far end of the room. Japan sat in his white military uniform feigning interest in England's speech while trying not to nod off. A small smile played on Switzerland's lips that he quickly hid. He didn't entirely mind the meetings. They were his one chance to see Japan. Not that anything would ever come of it.

Switzerland was wrenched from his admiration by fingers creeping up his thigh. He cocked his gun and slowly turned to face France who flinched and retracted them, remembering who is seat mate was. Touch me again and my gun is going up your ass, his eyes said and maybe France didn't get that message word for word, but he got the gist.

Of course, that wouldn't stop him from trying to grope Switzerland again in five minutes. France's libido must have a death wish or something. The craziest thing, yet amusing for Switzerland, were the times France tried to grope Ivan.

Switzerland smiled contentedly remembering Ivan tossing France upside down into a trash can. Ah, sweet memories.

000

When the meeting was finally over, Switzerland made a show of shuffling and re-shuffling his papers. Just ask him, he scolded himself. He looked over, his heart tumbling a bit as America immediately intercepted Japan and started chatting with the nation enthusiastically about some video game or anime shit.

Goddamit America! He growled in his head. It wasn't fair. He had been waiting after hoping to casually invite Japan out for once and as all always America got in the fucking way.

But what pissed him off the most was what he knew was jealousy. It just wasn't fair how easily America could amble up to Japan and just chat with him about this and that. While for Switzerland it was usually a well-staged attack, that so far had never panned out.

That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was that the only thing America ever talked to Japan about was modern stuff. Is he oblivious to Japan's history? There was so much more to Japan than just his pop culture. There was a rich history of weapons, tea ceremonies, martial arts, and so many things that fascinated Switzerland. He felt he could talk forever just about Japan and yet could never bring himself to start the conversation.

He hovered by the door, walking slowly, filled with indecision. Unfortunately, America had already hooked an arm around Japan and was dragging him to the door saying, "AND we've got to try it out. It's so amazing! How about you come to my place?" Japan opened his mouth. "Great! I knew you'd see it my way. Let's get burgers and popcorn. Wanna watch movies? It'll be awesome?"

Bastard, Switzerland thought, his hands gripping the documents. They were just passing in front of him and he started to open his mouth to say, "Hey Japan", but closed it. The words just wouldn't come. Why can't I?

His breath caught when Japan looked at him. Really looked at him, those cinnamon-brown eyes meeting his. There was something in them, something that spoke of feelings well-hidden behind that mask of calm expression. A look that he could only describe as want and longing.

The moment passed and then they were out of sight, leaving Switzerland standing there. The last one in the room. He lowered his head, failure welling in his gut. I just couldn't say it. He never could.

OOO

After the conference, he went exploring Washington D.C. He didn't feel like going back to his lonely hotel room as always. The other nations had already broken up into their little groups, ones he had no interest in being a part of. His sister wasn't at this meeting because of "economic illnesses". That was what the nations called it so he wandered around alone.

At some point, he found himself in one of the seedier areas of Washington D.C. and was about to hail a taxi when his eyes locked onto a dimly lit pawn shop at the end of the street, it's blue neon lights flickering in the dark. Something drew him, called to him and before he knew what he was doing, he'd stepped into the grungy place.

What the fuck am I doing? The human behind the counter was grungy fellow with dreadlocks and Bob Marlen shirt and baggy pants. "Wassup dude?" Oh, fuckin God no! Not a human version of America!

Switzerland merely grunted and went exploring the back aisle. It was the usual junk, but some of it looked actually quite historical. Some very nice pistols were in glass cases and then his breath caught as he saw it.

Up in a corner sat the most beautiful katana he had ever laid eyes on. It's sheath looked worn and grimy, but just from the leather work and binding on the hilt he could tell this was no ordinary sword.

"That catch your eye, dude?" The man said, coming over. "We just got it recently. Some old guy sold it just the other day. Said something about the sword wanted to be here. What a fruitcake!" The guy snickered.

Switzerland didn't bother answering, he just dug in his pocket for his wallet. If that sword was what he thought it was, he very much wanted it.

OOO

He had checked and re-checked by the finest experts in Switzerland, ones he could trust to keep their mouth shut and they were positive. It was the legendary Honjo Masamune.

He could not believe his luck. To have found that blade at a pawn shop right in DC? What were the chances? One of the most valuable historical artifacts to have gone missing since the end of World War II had just fallen right into his hands.

It was a blade with no equal. One that completely disappeared after the Meijiro police in Japan handed it over to Sgt. Coldy Bimore of the US 7th Cavalry in 1946. As he sat as his home, staring at it, his mouth watered at the sheer beauty of it.

But for once it wasn't just the gorgeous weapon he was salivating over, it was the thought of how impressed Japan would be when he, Switzerland, gave it to him. Would he smile?

He knew what he was giving up by just turning it over secretly to Japan, but he would have given up his whole collection if that's what it took to make Japan happy. In all his life, he had never felt that way toward any nation.

What is it about Japan that intrigues me? That makes me want to come out of my shell?

And while the thought was great. Even noble, the logistics were the fucking problem as always. When he wasn't admiring the blade that was laid on his wooden coffee table, he was staring at the phone on the night table.

It's easy. Just make the damn call. Don't be a fucking pansy! If America can make it look like 1-2-3 you can... He groaned. No, he couldn't. It was almost midnight, the moon was rising outside and he had not done shit in five hours of trying to coax himself into calling Japan.

It's just a phone call.

But it wasn't, not for Switzerland. This was Japan and his only chance to win points with him. He could almost cry from how paralyzed he was at the thought of trying to talk to Japan. Why do you have to be so shy about this?

Here he was with the discovery of the century lying on his coffee table and all he could do was stare. Hi-la-ri-ous, his mind taunted him. He picked up the blade, unsheathing it, he held it up, admiring it. It was 64.2 centimeters long exactly. The blade itself shimmered as if made of crystal but could cut paper in half with ease. Hell, he was half-convinced he could castrate a gnat with this.

He touched the blade, running his thumb light and winced. "Shit," He grumbled, slicing open his thumb. He sucked on it and scowled at the blood on the blade. Now he'd need to polish it again.

Brilliant as always. He was just about to get up when an inscription appeared on the blade. He blinked unsure if he was seeing things, but as he held it into the light. There was no mistake. It was in old Japanese but Switzerland had studied everything under the sun about Japanese culture. He had his hobbies

"Ye," He said, some of it he couldn't read, but he translated what he thought he understood. "...who holds this blade of ages, thine wish shall bend back time." Okay, so maybe I can't translate.

The blade began to hum and throb with energy, shaking in his hands. "The hell?" He cried, grabbing the hilt with both hands, trying not to drop it, suddenly he felt yanked. Brutally jerked off his feet and everything became a blur around it.

He yelled as suddenly he found himself falling several feet through the air and landing right in a large body of cold water. He sputtered and spit out the icy stuff, his long blond hair stuck in his eyes and he couldn't see.

His face was buried against something soft and squishy that was kind of warm. It almost felt like flesh. Something smelled like lotus blossoms. He froze, realizing he was up against someone's chest. Yanking back his wet locks, he gaped up at Japan. He was in Japan's lap in some kind of lake.

Japan had long hair that was in a top-knot and the top of his head was bald. That's really old school. That wasn't the only remarkable thing though. First off, Japan was naked and bathing in the lake. Second, Switzerland was in his Japan's lap. Thirdly, Japan was blushing head to toe and looked about two seconds from murdering Switzerland.

"You...You...," Japan snarled, his whole body trembling with rage.

Oh shit.

AN

This takes place in the Sengoku Era. The time of the Warring States (for you Inuyasha fans). It was one of the most bloody periods in Japan history and it only ended when Ieyasu won the battle of Sekigaha in 1600 and soon after brought all of Japan under his rule. He was declared Seii Taishogun and his shogunate would rule until the Meiji Restoration when the samurai were driven to extinction.

The Honjo Masamune is a real blade, one that went missing when it 1946 it was handed over to Sgt. Coldy Bimore. It disappeared after that and has not been seen since. It could very well be gathering dust in some pawn shop in the US.

The blade is a National Treasure that is MIA. It is considered one of the finest katanas ever made and there is a lot of mythology around it and its maker. You should take a look at its fascinating story. Quite remarkable.

This was a gift for Miss Macabre Grey. I hope she likes it.