Author's Note: I've finally gotten around to writing this... It's been sitting in my head for ages. Anyways, I hope you like some Japan-centric angst!

This is set at the end of WWII. Heh heh. You can guess what the situation is, can't you?

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Not even any of the merchandise. *droops* I wanna Canada plushie!

Japan lifts his eyes toward the horizon, as the first rays of the rising sun poke through the clouds.

Soft rose red rays arc across the sky, lacing the ever lightening blue with purple and gold streaks. The white of the clouds provides a soft contrast to the myriad of colors, a canvas of sorts onto which they display their beauty. On the other side of the earth, the heavens are still painted an inky purple, but slowly, ever so slowly, the light is reaching forward, chasing away the dark.

Yellow and orange and red and purple and blue and white swirl together in a mesmerizing pattern of sunrise, and though they should clash, somehow they do not. It was so soft, so peaceful, so... calm.

Even the red that stains the sky is soft, so unlike the flag that lays at his feet in tatters.

So unlike the blood that stains his white uniform, red.

Slowly, the ground takes in the red that is seeping from his body, absorbing it where it had once supplied him with it. The land that had once given him life, now is taking it away.

A shuddering gasp escapes his body, as he watches the sun rise higher, ever higher...

It is taking so long... Why does death not reach him? Why does the world not accept his repentance?

For that is what it is. Repentance. It is his duty, and his curse. He has to shoulder the ultimate price for his land, because he is his land. He is Japan, and Japan is him. And now that Japan lays defeated, so must he.

He remembers Italy, crying as his life slowly slipped away after his government was overthrown, and Romano, who stood above his brother with an unfathomable expression on his face, before walking away. He remembers seeing Italy's tears mirrored on his brother's face as the younger of the two drew in a last breath, and Romano wrapping his arms around Italy's cooling form, sobbing.

He remembers Germany, standing strong even though he knew only too well what would happen to him, his calm demeanor only cracking when Prussia was dragged away, crying out for him. He remembers the stricken look on Prussia's face as he faded away, and Germany's cries of despair, not for himself, but for the brother he had lost, even as his own existence was snuffed out by inevitable fate.

And now, it is his turn. Who would be there for him as he falls? China hates him, South Korea is afraid to get near him in case he is occupied again, Taiwan has turned her back to him... He would die alone.

The sun reaches the center of it's daily arc, bright gold rays gently raining down upon the blood red form beneath them.

A wind blows across the land, and Japan shivers. Blank, dark eyes open to see the sky still lit, but only lightly now. A beautiful dusting of lilac covers the east, fading to blue, then yellow, then bright, fiery red as it gets nearer and nearer to the setting sun.

The sun that was just rising, mere hours ago. A sun that he had always said was his.

He is the the land of the rising sun, yes. But his claim on the sun cannot just end at rising. No, if he is the sun as it is rising, then he must also be the sun as it travels across the sky, through morning, noon, afternoon, evening...

Night.

For the sun that rises, must also set.

And that was what is happening, now. Japan is alone as he watches the sun slowly sink below the distant horizon, lighting up the sky for other nations. His time is done, at least until the sun once again rises above his land. Who knows how long that will take?

The last of the harsh, red rays sink below the horizon, and Japan has just a moment to wonder at how similar they looked to his tattered flag, now.

Just a moment, before his life ends.

The trees rustle, the birds chirp again. The ever lightening sky gives indication that morning is soon to come. The creatures of the day stir in their warm homes, as the creatures of the night settle down to rest. It is the never ending cycle of rest and activity, of death and rebirth.

The day dies, the night is born. The night wanes, the day returns.

And so too does Japan.

A soft breeze lifts his bangs slightly above his face, and his eyes flicker open just in time to catch a view of the rosy red light of the rising sun peek above the horizon once more. He looks around to discover himself whole again, renewed again. There is no sign of the blood that had seeped into the earth around him, no sign of the wound that had not been inflicted by physical means, but rather indirectly, through his tie to the land.

Nothing, it seems, has changed about him. At least, not on the outside. But he can feel it, inside of him, the end of the old Japan and the birth of the new. He had died, and been reborn, at every turn of the era in his history. It was nothing new to an old nation such as he, but still, waking up to find yourself different, changed, was exhilarating.

He reaches beside him, fingers instinctively closing around the katana that had faithfully remained by his side since the beginning. He pulls it out, and the light of the morning sun glances off in a wave of light.

The light of renewal.

A small smile lights up his face, and suddenly, his friends are around him.

The other Axis, Germany and Italy... Prussia, and Romano...

His siblings, South Korea, Taiwan, Vietnam, Thailand, Hong Kong...

The Allies, too, for in the end, nationkind would always be friends. England, America, France, Russia...

Even China, who he had mercilessly betrayed.

He is a new Japan, and everyone is there to witness his rebirth.

Everyone is there to watch.

The sun has risen again.

Author's Note: Heh heh... I dunno what I was thinking... I was kinda trying to do a play on the "land of the rising sun" thing, but... I dunno...

A note about Italy: Yes, I do know that towards the end of WWII, Italy switched sides and joined the Allies, and therefore was not "defeated"; rather, it was "liberated". However, for a liberation to happen, there must be someone else in control of the country. Southern Italy was the part of Italy that actually joined the Allies, while Northern Italy was, at the time, a puppet state of Nazi Germany. Therefore, Italy dies, and Romano doesn't. Because technically, Italy would be the representation of the Italian Social Republic, which, uh, died, for lack of a better word.

So, um, yeah. Hope you liked it!