Kintsugi (金継ぎ) // Ameripan w. nyo!Japan

. k i n t s u g i .

Sakura was sure she could fix anything.

Yes, staring into the solemn expanse of night; the snow falling; she's sure and cold.

She can fix her and China's relationship.

She can fix mother earth from falling apart.

She can fix her people and make them happy.

She can..

She feels pain rippling down her back; she remembers the day she got them clearly. The days which are hard to remember; the day that shocked and frightened the world.

She remembers the day she was forced to open her doors to everyone and everything. That was before then.

Sakura can't go back to the days before then; but she is sure she can fix the state it is in now.

She can fix these bonds, surely.

—-

Sakura looks at the beautiful glass soldiers in America's tender hands.

She wonders if she reaches out; if she places her hand over his; if his hands would make hers seem small and tiny, she wonders if she'll be okay with that or not.

She wants to reach out and grasp his hands.

He must feel her lingering gaze; as he looks up from the tiny dolls to look at her.

She wonders if she touches her own face; would it be hot like it feels?

But his smile comes softly, slowly, a warm day in the sun; the gentle easing of oneself in a sauna.

She could sink into his warm gaze forever. Her body is trembling and she must look frightened, but,

she has never felt so alive and warm.

He presses the delicate soldiers into her palm; and as he puts his hand under hers; he tells her of how England made those for him.

In the corner of her eyes Sakura peeks at his expression; it's thoughtful; and his eyes are sad, and Sakura feels like he's given a part of himself to her that is delicate and breakable.

She will cherish it fully, she decides.

Laying on the backs of their feet in America's house, rug burns on their knees and in their sleep clothes, they are going through his old memories that were pushed into a closet; a side he'd never dare to show.

But he did with her; and the feeling is so intimate that she focuses on the soldiers again as her vision starts to waver and become blurry; a smile full on her lips.

She brushes at the little soldier's face; admiring the detail put into the figurine's etching, a little scowl; a tough, resolute look adorning his face.

She looks up to see America staring at her; open and honest, and even though she feels her face heat up she pushes onwards. "They look beautiful, Alfred. I bet he spent a lot of time making these."

Apparently what she said must of made him happy, as he smiled brightly this time, a touch of sorrow lining his eyes. "Yeah, I bet he did. Do you want to see it in better light?" She nodded, America hopping up to immediately offer her his hand. She flushed before taking his hand, using it as an anchor to get up when,

she trips over her own feet and she crashes down, down, down.

....

She stays on the floor; squeezing her eyes shut- wishing the world would stop turning for a moment; for time to stop so she won't face the consequences.