Forgiveness Comes With Patience (AmericaxJapan)

Chapter Four- China and the Allied Powers

Yao's Point of View
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Panting heavily, I sprinted past the dressed-up American military men working the front desks at the Pentagon in the United States. A few of them looked up in confusion when they felt a sudden rush of wind hit their faces, but I was too far down the hallway for them to even notice that it was I who caused the disturbance. Stupid Americans, my old bones work faster than their brains.

Now you may ask, what is an old, respectable Chinese man such as myself doing, sneaking into a top-security American government building? Well I must have a good reason to leave my beautiful home country for this capitalist dump for even a second. And a good reason it is, indeed.

A few days ago, or whatever days feel like to me, my little brother, Japan, just up and decided to attack me and raid my lands! Aiyah, selfish little brother! He could have just asked me for some supplies, and I would have sold it to him. Maybe giving him supplies would have made him respect me more as his older sibling. But no, he just came in and plundered my country out of nowhere. And with Germany on his side, I don't have a chance of getting back at him. And that's why I'm here now: to get America to help me crush my brother back into his place.

When I heard about what happened yesterday to America, I knew he wouldn't hesitate to oblige to join my super-exclusive Allies club to destroy Germany, Italy, and that rowdy Japan. And playing on my suspicion, it will be even easier to convince him if he's already been consumed by nationalism.

So here I am, scanning office numbers and English letters arranged to form Westerner-names on doors, looking for the human form of America. I suspected that he'd be in here, considering his declaration of war on Little Brother earlier today.

Nothing feels as good to an old man like myself than the wind blowing my long ponytail behind me, and the itchiness of my baggy uniform. There was strange comfort, the same comfort I feel around protective amulets, from the star on my arm band. It was like I was wearing a charm to ward of lazy capitalists, if only they could comprehend my presence.

Smith, Kelly,  Doe... Ah! Jones!

Finally, the door I was looking for came up on my right. With the speed of a coursing river, I skidded on my foot into the room, the wind that was following me caught the door and slammed it behind me.

I was greeted immediately by the heavy smell of cigarette smoke. The bars of light cast by the slits of the closed blinds captured the white-gray fog that was being emitted by whatever the owner of the room was smoking.

In the room was a leather chair, swiveled away from me as to hide its occupant. There was a desk set in front of it, a large map sprawled across it and held down by Bowie knives stuck in certain locations. A clunky radio on a filing cabinet in the corner was playing some of that loud, distasteful American music. What do they call it? Swing? Ragtime? Whatever. The chair remained facing away from me even when the door slammed loudly.

I buckled over, hands on knees and caught my breath. Too much running for an old man! And war on top of that? How disrespectful, I'll teach Little Brother how to respect his elders.

Once I caught my breath, I let out.

"Whoooeee... Ah, good afternoon, Mr. America. I've been informed about what happened yesterday. The people of China send their condolences. "

The only response was the radio, blaring out, 'Whoo, Whoo, Chattanooga there you are!'

Getting a little nervous about the lack of thank you's, I continued.