A/N: It's been exactly 1 year, 6 months, and 12 days since I last posted a DGM story here in . Well, it's good to say that I'm back! And my other DGM works, "Handicapped Love" and "D .MummyMan" will be back too!

Enjoy this little story of mine, which broke my heart and made me smile at the same time. :)

Disclaimer: I own neither D Grayman or Hetalia.

He looked so…different. Yet, so unexplainably the same.

Gone was that calm luster in his pearl-stained skin, which, in the past had always won the envy of both the west and the east. Gone was that flawless, unequaled decorum, which was once the very icon of his people and their pride. Gone was that soft, tender smile, which had, in its beautiful kindness, always soothed the suffocating pain that savaged the frail corners of Kanda's heart whenever he saw those accursed pink lotuses that no one else could ever see.

Still, there was that look of outmost defiance that lingered in his face, like an impeccable golden armor of stubbornness, which manifested his will to continue existing, despite the horrors, despite the screams, despite the unfading crude scars that would forever keep its memories painfully engraved on his body. Although his physique had thinned drastically, and his face almost gaunt in its miserably malnourished state, he still stood with his back straight and a determined air hung about him, resolute in his ambition to raise his nation back from the sordid ashes of the monster it had become, and mould a better country, a stronger race, a people that could stand up steadfastly against the Earl's baleful tempest.

Kanda stood there silently, gazing at the country he once loved, still loved, and will always love no matter how dismal the bloodstained land had become.

"Hello, Kanda-san." The exorcist's stoic face shattered into millions of pieces at his country's voice, forming an expression that beheld a twisted resemblance to an unhealthy blend of bitter emotions, which were all too profound to be described. That voice…it was no longer the voice that embodied the soft trill of spring's early blossoms, as the post-winter breeze blew lightly against their cherry petals. Gone were the tranquil songs from the pristine streams, as they silently slid through the lush, emerald fields. Now, it was the voice of a country battered by its own sorrows, roughened by the struggle against its own aggressive abyss, and broken by the tears of its dead. "It has been a while since you last visited. How are you?"

"You shouldn't be asking me that," Kanda wanted to say. "Not when you look like you just crawled out of your grave this morning." But he didn't say that. He knew better than to remind the other man of the mess he had become. Japan was a nation with an adamant love for its dignity. It would be too cruel a joke to mention anything about his current state when he himself was trying his best to ignore his grief. "Nothing new," Kanda replied to his country's question, his tone coming out in small, cracked notes as he fought to keep his misery in check. "Same war, just new faces."

The nation let out a small laugh, and the exorcist almost cringed at the dry, raspy sound that came out of the man's mouth. It was the sound of disease and death, which made Kanda wonder if Japan could hear his self, and realize that his ambition of rebirth is still very far from his impaired reach. "Still the same unsociable bastard, I see," Japan commented jokingly, and for a brief moment Kanda saw a flash of that old merry gleam in his country's tired black eyes. "However, I cannot completely blame you for that. You arepart of me, after all. And I'm not exactly the most convivial nation out there. Quite the opposite, to be exact."

"Che. Damn right, you are." Kanda wanted to say so many things, things he knew might stab another gaping wound into Japan's already beaten body. He wanted to curse, to swear, to blaspheme and insult every Japanese god that existed. He wanted to blame them for being so negligent in their duties, for allowing this once beautiful country to be destroyed by that godforsaken Millennium Fatso. He wanted to shout at Japan and tell him that if he had been just a little more friendly, if he had opened himself just a little more, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have ended up like this. Fuck the policy of sakoku. Fuck that three hundred year old detachment from the rest of the world.

But he couldn't say any of that, of course. He loved Japan too much. Too much that the mere sight of his country's despondent presence was killing him deep inside.

Japan smiled at his retort, and as he did Kanda once again caught a glimpse of the past that had long gone. The past that harbored those jovial laughs from friends' conversations, those light-hearted giggles from a child's amusement, those satisfied smiles that showed the people's genuine content, and that distinct air of principle that encased each and every citizen. The past that Kanda could only recall, but could never possess. The past, which agonizingly shattered the exorcist's impossible dream of receiving an authentic, human life.

"What are you thinking of?" The hoarse voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Kanda blinked, refocusing his midnight-blue eyes at the man before him, taking in that innocently curious look on his pallid face. "Nothing important," Kanda lied, but perhaps it was evident in his eyes, for an unconvinced look replaced the curiosity in Japan's face. The exorcist flinched as the man's deep black eyes bore down at him with a piercing look, as if he was evaluating the samurai's very soul.

Kanda felt nostalgic all of a sudden; this hadn't been the first time he had received such a look. Memories from his childhood flickered across his mind, and he recalled those special moments when both he and Japan were alone, seated silently on top of the hill, and listening to the lullabies of nature. It was there that Kanda learned how to meditate. And it was there that he found out about Japan's hidden talent in seeing through a person's façade, no matter how thick it was.

"Tell me," the country urged, and the pleading tone in the man's voice threatened to violently dissolve the emotional dam that had reigned in Kanda's emotions for the past seven years. When the exorcist did not reply, Japan attempted to move closer to him, only to be thwarted by his own weakened knees in the end. But before he collided with the scorched earth, which was once a breathtaking field of flowers, strong, muscular arms caught him and held him up, touching him both tenderly and protectively at the same time.

"Be careful," Kanda muttered as he held on to the smaller man, his arms pushing him up as he made Japan lean against his stronger frame. "Tsk. You have to watch it from now on. We barely saved your ass this time around, and, damn it, this better be the last time," he added, unable to contain himself any longer. The man in his arms looked so thin and fragile; as if the slightest miscalculated gesticulation would cause him to burst and disappear like a bubble. But what disturbed him the most was the man's scent.

Japan smelled liked rotting cherry blossoms. He smelled like death.

"You've changed, Kanda-kun," came the muffled voice that came from Japan's decrepit form. "You've become so warm." A dry snicker then followed, making Kanda wince at the acrid sound. "I wish I could be warmer too. You must be really disgusted at my current state," he stated, his voice turning into a higher degree of bitterness. His long, pale fingers gripped tightly on to the black, silver embellished fabric of Kanda's uniform, and from his point of view, the exorcist could see tears reflected against the polished surface of the Rose Cross emblem over his left breast. "I'm no longer the great Japan you knew and admired. I'm just the lingering echo of a nation that had killed itself a long time ago."

"Shut up," Kanda hissed, his arms tightening around Japan as he pulled his country into a desperate embrace, fearing that the second he decides to let go, Japan would disappear forever. "Just. Shut. Up," the exorcist choked, cursing inwardly as he felt a warm trickle flow down from his grieving eyes. He didn't want to cry, but somehow, the sight of his most beloved land, crumbling into miserable, inanimate pieces, made the emotional dam, which had guarded his tears for so long, ultimately break apart.

"You can't die, idiot," Kanda growled, although the tears were very much evident, even in his voice. "You're not supposed to die. You're the Land of the Rising Sun, for heaven's sake. The sun isn't dying yet so don't you die on me, or else I'll fucking kill myself and hunt you down in hell."

Japan released a small laugh, but one without humor and based on a bitter attempt of trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Really, Kanda-kun, do you really think that the whole population of Japan would end up in Hell? Now that's really rude you kno—"

"Please."

The country's next words died down his throat as he felt Kanda's body shaking, and it took him a while to realize that those physical tremors were caused by the flood of tears, which were now almost literally pouring out of the exorcist's eyes. Japan could feel the other man's hold tighten around him, and though it was starting to feel painful, he didn't dare pull away. Muted sobs echoed into his ears, and every single whimper struck him like a harsh whip. Yet Japan didn't stop him from crying. Despite the discomfort, despite the sting, and despite the incessant pain, the country felt an unexplainable form of bliss at that moment. He felt unimaginably happy and completely relieved, as if a very big boulder was taken off his shoulders. And it was all for one simple reason:

For the first time in many, many years, someone was crying for him.

"Thank you," he whispered against Kanda's chest, his voice no longer broken, but held together but a newfound kind of faith. The new, confident tone made the exorcist pause in his momentary lapse of control, and look back at his country's face, noting in thinly-concealed amazement, at how the smaller man's skin had developed a healthy flush of pink, and how those tired, black orbs now harbored a strong-willed luster. "It's been a long time since someone really cried for me," Japan continued, a genuinely grateful smile appearing on his youthful face. "Thank you, Kanda."

The exorcist stared at him disbelievingly for a few moments, before averting his eyes and hastily wiping his damp, reddening cheeks with the back of his hand. "Che," he grunted, quickly putting on his stoic mask, though he failed to hide that small, upward twitch of his lips as he tried to suppress his growing smile. "What the hell are you talking about? I wasn't crying so stop thanking me for something I didn't do," he complained, even if both of them knew that it was an outright lie.

Japan let out an airy laugh, and the pure, bell-like sound made that smile finally break through Kanda's mask. "Tsk, if you recover that fast whenever someone cried for you, you should have said so in the first place," the samurai smirked, receiving another hearty laugh from his country in return. It was such a beautiful sound… something definitely worthy of representing the eastern land's hopes and dreams. Kanda never forgot that mesmerizing resonance, and always, whenever another detestable lotus bloomed in his exclusive point of view, he would remember that cherished song of Japan's reassuring mirth.

Still, it wasn't enough to stop those horrid flowers from blooming.

Thinking that things were fixed up – for now – Kanda sighed and began to loosen his hold of Japan's body, presuming that the man had recovered enough strength to stop himself from staggering. But before he could fully pull away, he felt hands clutching firmly on the fabric of his uniform, keeping him for moving any further. Looking down, Kanda raised an inquisitive brow at the suddenly grim expression on Japan's face. "What?" The samurai asked, a bit bewildered at the drastic change in the mood.

"Say Kanda," the country started, his tone of voice painfully familiar, and the exorcist could almost predict what the next sentence would be. "Do you still see the flower?"

His midnight-blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, and for a few seconds, an unbearably resentful look settled on the taller man's face. "Hell yeah," he wanted to say. "I can still see them right now. There are about a hundred surrounding us so far and – oh look, a new one just bloomed right behind you. Great. Just great."

"Yes," Kanda whispered simply, in a voice so hushed that even Japan, who was pressed against him, barely heard his reply. The nation looked up at the man's face with an apprehensive expression, one hand reaching up and gently touching the exorcist's perpetually furrowed eyebrows. Even if Kanda was trying his best to conceal it, Japan could still see the pain that ravaged his insides with a sadistic edge, and the invisible tears that were flowing not from the man's eyes but from his heart. And yet, the exorcist never said anything about his real feelings, and chose to keep silence as his native language.

"You are still so stubborn," the country murmured as he withdrew his hand with an exasperated sigh. "Why don't you just tell me what you really feel? I can see right through you, yet you insist on keeping those ice walls encompassed around your heart. Why are you so afraid of letting them out?"

At that remark Kanda snorted, and the bitter look on his face upgraded to higher degree. "Yeah right, as if I'd be insane enough to say how much it hurts me to see those invisible flowers all the time. It hurts me to see them and remember every damn day that I wasn't human, that my life's value was equal to that of a toilet seat," he spat out in contempt.
"Shit, I don't want anyone to know how scared I am, because I don't want everything to end yet. I don't want the lotus to wilt away and steal my artificial life with its withering petals. No, I want to live." The words came out hoarsely from Kanda's mouth, bringing with it the pain that he had long suppressed. The samurai's hands clenched into tight fists, clearly exhibiting just how much effort it was taking him to avoid shedding any tears. Japan grip on his uniform tightened, an unconscious action brought fort by his wish to keep the exorcist from breaking apart. "I want to live, damn it," the Japanese man growled with a small sob. "I want to live, for real. Not just existing and waiting for the countdown of my life to finish. I want to live. To love. To actually be human."

A heavy silence descended upon them, a silence Japan allowed to stay for a few moments, knowing that it was something Kanda needed in order to calm down. He had not expected such an outburst, especially from the exorcist, but Japan understood the pain he was going through. Both their desires were similar in nature. They wanted and wished for something almost impossible to obtain, something that would take nothing short of a miracle to acquire. Both of them shared far-fetched dreams. Dreams that had a high chance of staying the way it is. A dream. A mere thought of fiction. Nothing but pure fantasy.

"You are human, Kanda," Japan stated, his voice completely certain without a single touch of sarcasm, doubt, or dishonesty. It held only the purest form of certainty, the way a person would state a universally known truth. The young samurai looked down at him, pupils dilating in shock at his country's sudden words. "You always were human in my eyes. I have no interest in the fact that you weren't born from a woman's womb; such things are too trivial to pay attention to. No, what was important was that you lived. You existed, for the past seven years, bearing the proud name of Japan on your resilient shoulders, carrying with you your country's pride when the rest of your countrymen had fallen to the abyss of their sorrows. And by doing so, you have hailed yourself a genuine member of the human race, for humans, although weak, are creatures who know how to live with honor and dignity."

The country paused, and gave the taller man that tender smile from the past. "You are human, Kanda," he repeated, giving the exorcist a light pat at the right cheek. "Human."

Human.

The word felt strangely…warm. And very pleasantly so.

"It's pretty ironic so you to say that," Kanda snorted, although a small, gratifying smile graced his pale lips. "You who aren't even human yourself."

The country let out another breezy laugh, inevitably pulling at the ends of Kanda's lips and widening his smile. "True," Japan chuckled, and the exorcist could see that the gaunt look was slowly but surely fading away, and the vigor of life was once again pumping through his nation's veins. "Still, that was a pretty good speech, if I might say so myself."

"Huh. You seriously think so?" Kanda retorted in jest, earning another laugh and a mild chastising pat on his shoulder. "Give your country some more credit," Japan stated, a wide smile on his face. "I'm trying my best, you know."

"I know," the exorcist replied, a gentle look in his dark azure eyes. "I know that you'll rise up again, to be the glorious nation you once were. I have no doubts about that."

Japan's eyes softened, and a lot more of his earlier weariness started to fade away. "I'll rise," he whispered, and though his voice was soft, it was brimming with unspoken conviction. "I'll rise and revive the country that you loved. Like a phoenix, I'll recreate myself from the ashes of this bloodstained land. Because I want to create a strong nation, and a race wherein every single person would acknowledge you as a fellow human."

And with those words, Japan leaned closer and pressed a chaste kiss against Kanda's lips. "I promise."