Sleep

A/N: Ah, the joys of writing at 11 PM. :D Translations are at the bottom.

The last rays of the setting sun touch the wide room just so. Suddenly, the room seems aglow with warm golden fire. The eldest man in the room smiles fondly, much used to this sight. His younger brothers, though, never cease to be amazed by this small wonder, though they have seen it many times. And to say nothing of the reactions of the two youngest children! Their eyes are wide with fascination, and alight with curiosity as they rapidly absorb every detail of their new lives.

The second-eldest—a quiet, reserved young man—suddenly speaks up. "Gold stands for royalty, right, Chugoku-nii? Golden light for the imperial dragon...it fits." He favors his elder brother—foster parent—with a wide smile that lights up his chocolate brown eyes.

China—for he it is—blushes fiercely amidst laughter from the other three nations in the room, but a loving smile tugs at his lips. Finally, he gives in to the temptation and laughs with them, a sound as musical as falling water. "I never thought of that before, Riben."

"Dragon? I think not." This remark comes from the third-oldest, a lively, playful almost-young-man. Japan raises an eyebrow. "How can you doubt it? Have you never seen his face when he is angry?" Korea shakes his head, grinning. "When he is angry I am usually to be found as far away as possible."

More laughter, and then the magical moment is over. Japan and Korea hurry off in opposite directions to finish their studies. Taiwan slips silently outside to the garden—her favorite place at twilight. Hong Kong, however, is content just to pull out a book and begin reading. China lingers in the room a few moments longer.

A very affectionate smile graces his features when he notes the title of the book his youngest brother is reading—Journey to the West. Always the scholar, that one, he reflects. He cannot be more than nine years old and already he is reading the classics. Korea calls for him then—"Jung-gug-hyung, I don't get it!"—and China leaves Hong Kong to his book. The boy, he notes with amusement, has become thoroughly engrossed in the story of a Buddhist monk and his faithful companions.

Later, when China returns, the book lies open on Hong Kong's chest, the young nation sleeping peacefully, twitching slightly every so often, as if he longs to be chasing demons through the forests. As China picks his way through a mess of papers scattered over the floor—Japan and Korea need to clean this up, he notes idly—Hong Kong suddenly wakes up, light brown eyes—almost the color of honey—blinking sleepily. "Gege," he calls out in his sweet, high voice, holding his arms out to his beloved brother.

Said brother reaches Hong Kong without falling, and takes the boy tenderly into his arms. "Sleep time for the little one," he announces softly, smiling, as he carries Hong Kong to his room.

When the child nation is tucked in and ready to sleep, China sits down on the edge of his bed, pressing a soft kiss to his brow and gently stroking his cheek. "Sleep well, baobei," he whispers. Hong Kong yawns slightly, his eyes closing. "Sing me a song, gege," he says, only half-awake now.

小燕子，穿花衣
(The little swallow, cloaked in flowery garb)
年年春天来这里
(Comes here every spring)
我问燕子你为啥来
(I ask her, 'Why do you come?')
燕子说
(She answers)
这里的春天最美丽
(The spring here is the prettiest)

小燕子告诉你
(The little swallow tells you)
今年春天更美丽
(This year's spring is even prettier)
[我说] 欢迎你
(...[I say] You are welcome)
长期住在这里
(To make your home here)
[我说] 欢迎你
([I say] You are welcome)
长期住在这里
(To make your home here)

China's voice is soft but rich as he sings the familiar lullaby. Soon, Hong Kong is fast asleep, his young angel's face completely relaxed and very peaceful. All his worries vanish when he sleeps. The older nation stays at the child's bedside a little longer, just watching him sleep. As China watches, a small smile spreads across Hong Kong's face. Affection fills China's heart almost until his chest aches.

He kisses his little boy's forehead again before he leaves the room.

Years later, China remembers.

His home feels bare and empty now, since Japan and Korea had moved out. Only his youngest two remain, frozen forever as children until they gain their independence. Sometimes, when Taiwan forgets herself, she will glare at China unexpectedly, her dark eyes reflecting the feelings of her people. Hong Kong, though, is simply resigned, never fighting.

China coughs a little, his swollen throat aching, as he silently pushes open the door to Hong Kong's room. The boy—really almost a young man now, but cursed to linger forever on the edge of adulthood—had long ago begun protesting that he was no longer a child and did not need to be put to bed. So it was that China crept silently into his room only after he was deep in sleep.

Hong Kong had withdrawn further and further into himself as he grew up, becoming almost like a younger Japan in his indifferent attitude. China frowns to himself—he seems to do that much too often now. Where is the little boy who held in him the brightness of a phoenix?

His eyebrows furrow together further as he watches Hong Kong sleep. Gone now are the days of peaceful sleep and smiles in the dark. Hong Kong's face is troubled now when he sleeps, and he tosses and turns often. Not once in too many years has China seen a smile on his little one's face. The child in question mutters something too quiet for China to hear, and the old nation notices lines from worry on his brow, and a frown on his full lips.

Sighing, he turns to return to his own room, his bare feet making no noise on the carpeted floors of his house. He ponders the change in his brother as he readies himself for sleep. I am afraid to comfort him, because I don't know if he wants my love now, China reflects. But all I want is my baby brother back. My brother, with the spirit of a phoenix and the heart of a dragon, quick to laughter and quicker still to forgiveness. Is that too much to ask?

Several rooms away, a sleeping not-quite-nation unknowingly clutches at his necklace, a birthday gift from China. The necklace is elegantly simple: a single red string bound to a jade pendant, with the likenesses of dragons, set in gold, on both sides. On each side of the pendant, the dragon curls around an embossed word.

爱 and 平, China had decided when he ordered this particular necklace made.

Love. Peace.

A/N: Okay, so this just came to mind randomly. It's kinda rambly, methinks. -.-

Translations—I apologize if these are wrong...I only speak English and Chinese.
Japanese: Chugoku = China. I think I read somewhere that 'nii' is a Japanese honorific for older brother.
Korean: Jung-gug = China. I'm pretty sure I read in the same story as previously mentioned that 'hyung' is a Korean honorific for older brother.
Chinese: Riben = Japan. Gege = older brother. Baobei = darling (literally, "baby").
The book Hong Kong is reading is real: 西游记. It has also been translated as "The Adventures of Monkey." The lullaby China sings is adapted from the children's song 小燕子 (The Little Swallow); I translated it into English.

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