World War 2 (Thirdunion)

Chapter 21

Imperial Japan was conflicted, and his friend at his side, Fascist Italy, was no help at all. Japan had linked their arms as they stood in front of Thailand’s home in central Bangkok, mostly to keep Italy standing, but also because he needed that calming touch of a friend that he knew would never leave him, not again anyway. Japan swallowed.

Thailand isn’t going to be awake. Would he turn me away? Would he expect me to respond to his letter forty-three years late?

Fascist Italy leaned against his side.

“Don’t be long?” He slurred his words together, his Italian accent transforming the drunken words into an elegant drawling question. Japan sighed, smiling lightly.

“I won’t be long, stay out here,” Japan replied, detaching himself from his friend and taking a sip from the mysterious bottle of liquor he had taken with him. The label had looked fancy, but he couldn’t really understand what kind of alcohol it was. It had been a sign that he should probably stop drinking, but he didn’t intend to anytime soon, especially not when he knew that he was going to be seeing Thailand tonight. He had also realised that Nazi and The Soviet Union hadn’t come with them to Thailand, but he didn’t really mind because Nazi probably wanted to give Japan some space, as well as wanting to explore some other nation in the real world.

Japan left Fascist Italy and wandered up to the door. He assumed it would be locked so he transformed into spirit form briefly to pass straight through the ornate wood.

The Thai doorman within the building yelped upon seeing Japan materialise in front of him. Japan shot him a quietening look, to which the man hastily looked Japan up and down, once, twice, before he realised that Japan was a ghost and could do no real harm. Though the man’s eyes were still wide, he seemed to calm down just a bit.

“Is Thailand awake?” Japan asked him flatly in Thai. His capabilities in speaking the language were spotty at best while he was sober, so he wasn’t even sure if what he had said to the man had made sense. The doorman nodded hastily, seeming to understand, and pointed towards a wide staircase. Japan followed his vague directions, stumbling a bit at first but managing to keep his balance.

Japan Empire felt like he was battling with the stairs, relying on the handrail heavily to haul himself up. From there, he walked around the gorgeous building, enchanted by the small lights that provided just enough soft, twinkling illumination to guide his way. He turned a corner, going to take a sip of his bottle but then giving it a distasteful glance as it ran dry.

I don’t remember drinking all of this.

Japan looked back up as he rounded a corner and there was a gasp from someone in front of him. His blood ran cold with regret as soon as Thailand met his eyes. Japan stepped back, colliding with the wall and staying there, a safe distance from the country that had once lured him in so effortlessly, blindsided him, and broken him.

“Imperial Japan?” Thailand breathed, taking a step forward that made Japan press himself against the wall. Thai was still just as pretty as he was during the war. His hair shone with red undertones, longer than Japan remembered it, and his midnight blue gaze was still sharp with a cunning, calculative edge. Anger and remorse teared through Japan’s drunken mind.

“America’s double agent,” Japan greeted him tersely in return. He set his face hard to mask the despair and terror he felt at finally seeing Thailand again after so many years, the only country that had ever proven their power to Japan by actually taking his regime down from the inside. Thailand blinked at the insulting name, but didn’t address it.

“You’re late, Japan,” Thailand breathed, his voice thick with emotion, “I sent that letter forty-three years ago, I thought you’d never agree to see me again.” The bottle in Japan’s hand clinked against the hard surface of the wall as he pressed his palms against it.