Hetalia One-Shots

RoChu : Archives

Russia's POV

  In one of the many rooms constructing China's majestic palace, was my favorite of all. The room was probably the biggest of them all, and filled with books, parchments and many more. The ceiling was high, the walls of white, the floor marble tiles. Large openings let light fall through ceiling and pass through the walls. Oil lamps hung from the shelves glowing dimly. The smell was strong of ancient paper mixed with soft lotus pollen. Once inside the library all sound is lost, only your mind speaking.

  I opened the grand doors and entered the peaceful place. The library seemed empty, quiet shuffling barely audible from the other end of the room. I walked past the multiple furnitures holding many books. In one well lit corner, stood China balancing over a small ladder with scrolls in his arms. I went up to help him by taking the parchments and setting him down.

  "Thank you," muttered the nation taking the papers back. "What are you doing here?"

  I shrugged and looked up to the tall shelf. "I wanted to visit your library again," I answered. "What are you doing? Why are all these on the floor?" I inquired noticing many scrolls and books scattered over the tiles. The brunet puffed his cheeks and crouched down, picking up some papers.

  "I'm reorganizing the scrolls, they've been put away in the wrong places," he complained looking at the almost infinite line of books. I nodded and picked up a hardcover from the ground. I slouched down against a shelf and began flipping the pages. The words were in ancient Chinese, making it difficult for me to read. I understood some of it, but not enough to comprehend the whole story.

  "Hey China," I piped up, "Would you mind translating this for me?"

  The brunet sighed in annoyance and trudged next to me. His eyes widened as he read the book title. He kneeled down and took it in his hands.

  "This is a very interesting story, I've always loved it," admitted the country with a nostalgic smile. He placed the book back in my hands and stood up, continuing his cleaning.

  "The Butterfly Lovers. In the Eastern Jin Dynasty, a lovely maiden wishes to pursue her studies," recited China from memory. "However she could not, the more advanced studies allowed to men only. Zhu Yingtai convinces her father to let her go and disguises herself as a man to go to Hangzhou for further studies. During her trip she meets Liang Shanbo, a young scholar from Kuaji."

  I listened intently, intrigued by the famous story. My fingers traced over the black ink sunk in the papyrus. The words from the paper came to life with the melodious translation China offered.

  "Both soon become close friends then sworn brothers by an oath over the pavilion of a thatched bridge. They study together for three years, and Zhu gradually falls in love with Liang. The boy never knew she was actually a woman and failed to notice anything too busy being a bookworm.
  One day, Zhu must go back home as her father missed her too much. She bids Liang farewell, with the sentiment of already having confessed her love to the boy. In her heart, she and him are destined to be together for all eternity.
  Zhu reveals her identity to the headmaster's wife and asks her to pass a jade pendant to Liang as a betrothal gift.
  Liang accompanies his "sworn brother" to see her off. During the journey, Zhu tries to hint her true identity to the boy but he never understands her references. Out of ideas, the girl says she will match Liang with her "sister". She tells him to visit her residence to propose to her "sibling". Both reluctantly part at the Changting pavilion."

  I turned the pages with a heavy feeling in my heart. China had stopped his arrangements and sat next to me, shoulder against mine. He read the words and explained the story. I watched him more than the pages. It was hard for me to listen to such a story when I felt too close to the character. Especially in the presence of the small brunet.

  "Months later, Liang goes to Zhu and discovers who she truly is. They are devoted to and passionate about each other and vow to be together "till death do us part."
  However their happy reunion didn't last long as Zhu's parents had arranged her to marry Ma Wencai, a wealthy man. Liang is heartbroken and his health suffers from the emotional shock. He becomes critically ill and eventually dies.
  On the day of Ma and Zhu's marriage, the wind prevents Zhu to continue her journey further than Liang's grave. She pays her respects to her lover and descends in despair. She begs for the grave to open, and her wish is granted by a clap of thunder. She throws herself in the grave with Liang.
Their spirits turn into butterflies which emerge from the grave, and are never to be separated again."

  I closed the book and gave it to China who put it away on a shelf. My gaze drifted off to the tiles under my feet as I was in deep thought. The couple had been separated because Zhu hadn't been able to confess her love in time. And when she did, it was too late, their passion trumped by new promises to others. I began feeling afraid. What if I never found the courage or right time to confess? I would never know for sure if my feelings would be returned. And if I took too much time the situation could be different and our sentiments impossible.

  The Asian nation sat back down and lifted a strand of my hair falling over my eyes. "Are you alright?" he questioned worriedly.

  I took his small hand in mine and lowered it. He didn't draw it back and left it enveloped with my own. I slowly smiled turned to face him. "The story just made me think. It's a shame Zhu hadn't confessed earlier, she and Liang could have lived a happy life together." I felt China's hand heat up as well as his face change colors. He looked to the side and nodded.

  "Yes... It is unfortunate," he murmured also in thought.

  "What about you China, what would you do?" He spun his head around, his ponytail whipping in the air. He gaped at me in confusion and embarrassment. "Would you keep silent and miss the opportunity of endearing affection or take the risk of rejection with the possibility of happiness?"

  The brunet closed his eyes and breathed out from his mouth. "I... I would risk it. We can never know what could have happened if we had made the step. Better to know and be disappointed than to live with the doubt and regret."

  I agreed and stared back between by feet. China's hand moved and he slid his fingers between mine. He moved closer and focused on me seriously.

  "Russia, I have something to say," he stated with a pounding heart. My breath caught in my lungs and I felt a tingling feeling of hope flow through my body. I leaned in closer with wide, expectant eyes.

  "So do I," I admitted feeling my chest throb.

  "Is it the same as me?"

  "I believe... I wish."

  His free hand slipped along my cheek and laid on the back of my neck, pulling my face closer to his.

  "We'll see then..."

  Our lips connected after his whisper. I felt my stomach, my heart, my lungs, my everything burst in joy. His mouth was soft, sweet and small, beholding everything I could have ever hoped for. I tangled my fingers in his brown hair, keeping him close to me. Now that I had found that special feeling, I didn't want it to go. Despite the crucial need for air, I didn't want to let the passion flowing from one another stop.

  We gasped suddenly, resting our foreheads against each other. He brushed my hair back and pressed kisses on my lips as I rubbed my thumb on his soft cheek. I had never thought confessing would bring so much satisfaction. I was overwhelmed.

  "I love you," murmured the brunet between tender pecks. I fluttered my eyes open in surprise. I grabbed him tightly and kissed him passionately, letting us connected for a much longer while.

  "I love you too."

  Our lips moved along each other lovingly. I became addicted to the sentiment and felt China had too. We remained locked together in the large library, the different stories watching over us, our own being written. The orderly room stayed in my mind as the most pleasant of the entire palace, more so than the bedroom.