"Byahh!" Yao cursed and drew his hands back from the deep pot that he'd been cooking with. It had been several hours since he last sat down and he could do with a break, but he had no desire to ask for one. Yao would rather keep himself busy right now and just be thankful for the work in front of him to keep his mind off of Killing Kiku, Germany and everyone else in this stupid war. Not that it was a war anymore, everything was over and that's what upset him the most. Now he was just biding his time, waiting for them all to kill each other.
His fingers were blistered and worked from being in the kitchen moving pans all day. He wasn't alone, but he'd been doing most of the work in his opinion. Yao liked it that way, he was the only good cook in the kitchen anyway. He didn't know what kind of help Kiku had been hiring in his kitchens but China didn't exactly approve of the way the menu was being served. Yao tried to shake it off and go back to cooking.
His mind was swimming with troubles. Hong Kong was far away from him and although Japan would probably let him see him, he couldn't be completely sure. The visit would probably be supervised at that. He'd never have a moment alone with his son. It wasn't bad enough that he was with England?! England that was a part of the Axis?! The thought made his blood boil and he smacked a pot hard against the sink. A few other workers looked up at him but he just grumbled in Chinese and kept working.
How could he ever know if Hong Kong was going to be alright with him? God knows what that German would do with him. His mind was wracked with worry about him but it wasn't like it was safe for him to be anywhere. At least if he was here Yao could keep an eye on him and he wouldn't have to worry about him being subjected to the Germans in any fashioned. They were told that they would be receiving a guest today so the kitchens were extra busy, not that they weren't all the time anyway. He wondered who this visitor was, but they were also rarely told anything. Yao tried not to place himself with the others in the kitchen but after working along side them for so long it was difficult not to take the same mentality.
Whoever it was, probably Germany, he wished he could poison him and have it do anything - But Yao was certain the man bathed in it.
In very recent times, Arthur hadn’t been a stranger to Kiku’s residence, although now was a visit that would be a little more publicized. Upon arrival, he was immediately attended to; his rooms prepared and his luggage taken care of. He was dressed somewhat nicely, as would be expected for one of his usual visits for undisclosed business reasons. Once in his room, he removed his jacket, folding it neatly along the back of an elegant chair in his guest quarters. He had a bit of time to entertain himself, so he slowly wondered through the area, very much pretending that he didn’t have one goal in mind in the process. He didn’t necessarily know where Yao would have been placed in Kiku’s residence, so he partially probably appeared as if he were simply exploring the premises.
Knowing Yao’s propensity for cooking, the kitchens were at the forefront of Arthur’s suppositions. His fingers briefly touched along the side of his waistcoat, hearing the satisfying crinkling of parchment and the awkward angle of an envelope to remind him exactly where he’d stashed it. His heart did a little staccato, the brief image of the boy peering up at him capturing his thoughts right before he’d been ready for departure, and he quickened his step ever so slightly.
Drawing closer to the kitchens, he caught the familiar sound of pans and utensils clashing in the kitchen, the occasional shout and expressions of frustration. The scent of food, dishwater, and soap came steadily stronger as he maneuvered through the hallways and eventually hitting the open space of the kitchens, close to the servant’s quarters. Whenever he passed the occasional servant, they would acknowledge him, a show of respectful deference, the majority of them likely having expected his arrival via his host, though probably not his presence here where they were all bustling to finish their work. Arthur didn’t miss a beat, his gaze continuing to glance down every corridor and doorway, until he happened upon the kitchens, drawn by the scents and sounds. There were several entryways into the vast kitchens and Arthur stopped at the nearest one, pausing when his eyes immediately found Yao, easy to spot with the way he smacked a pot against the sink, barely catching the muttered words.
A moment later and Arthur stepped through the entryway, his presence now a little more visible in the kitchens. He vaguely heard the shuffling and occasional reactions from some of the thronged, busy servants, but he kept his attention on Yao. And just now, caught the impression of blisters on his fingers as well as the worry clear on his brow. He braced himself for the barrage of various explosive and well-deserved reactions.
Yao was focused on himself for several moments but the noise in the room had changed. Everything had went still and quiet, like everyone had just stopped working. He looked to the side and saw another worker with his head bowed in the direction he had his back to. China turned around to see what the fuss was about and he dropped the rag in his hands. It hit the floor near his feet as he stared at the man who had entered the room.
Unlike the others, Yao didn't immediately bow. This was the guest they were expecting, that they were cooking for. England….Arthur Kirkland. His abuser, his user, his occasional complex bed partner and the father of his child. The English Empire! He must have been so happy that he joined the Axis, He must have been so happy to have come out on the top side of the war and not been occupied. It must have been a fantastic life!
The more he thought about it in that single moment the more visibly angry that Yao became. He reached to the side with his burnt fingers and grasped the handle of a wide pot. Yao made quick steps to him and swung it directly at his head. "You!" He snapped, surprised he was even able to say anything in English at all. Yao spat a few Chinese profanities after and attempted to continue to swing the pot at him.
" How dare you show your face here!" Yao snapped again, not giving up on his assault until Arthur was able to stop him. It shouldn't have been hard. Yao knew he wasn't as strong as Arthur at the moment and that was half of his heartbreak. Any tears that threatened to flow from his eyes were stopped by the burning anger inside his heart for the situation. How dare he even come here? What was he here for? To Wish him well? To hand over his son!? Nothing would satisfy Yao at the moment until he was able to strike him with a blunt object.
"Can't you see I'm WORKING" He shouted at him again, his fingers screaming in pain as he tried to stop him. China couldn't be bothered to care. He wanted Arthur to know his pain and how dreadful he felt in this situation. What was worse is it was through no fault of his own. This was ARTHURS FAULT. His separation from Hong Kong was Arthur's fault, this entire situation was Arthur's fault! He was determined to make him feel for it, right now!
Arthur hardly noticed the behavior of the other servants, neither the staring nor the bows, his attention only on Yao as he reached for a large pot and immediately made to smash his skull with the hot metal. It was exactly the response that he expected from him, the sort of arguments turned into violent confrontations that they’ve had in the past. He had just enough time to avoid being hit directly on the head. His heart was beating fast at the near collision of metal to bone, and he moved to snatch the wrist of the hand that grasped the pot before Yao could attempt to hit him again. And with his body weight, he attempted to push Yao against the nearest wall. ”Drop it!” he hissed. Color had blossomed over his face as well, though the warmth came from his own irritation. His grip over Yao's wrist was tight enough to potentially hurt him, though he held back as best as he could.
”How dare you speak to me so familiarly,” Arthur responded to him, rather coldly this time, his jaw set and his gaze sharing in that frigid response. He knew that he was being harsh with him, which wasn’t his intention upon walking in here, but it felt the most appropriate for the wild response. ”I don’t need to tell you what exactly would be done to you if you’d reacted like that with any of the others. I’m sure you’ve already experienced it firsthand.” The severity in his voice didn’t waver. The only reason why he didn’t leave in that moment was because of the crinkle of paper stuffed in his waistcoat and the potential miserably saddened response from Leon that he’d need to witness once he made it back home.
His fingers did tighten around his wrist when Yao shouted at him again. Past Arthur’s own livid reaction meeting Yao’s anger, he noticed the burns on his fingers, and he knew that pain likely only touched the surface of what Yao was likely feeling in this moment, for God knows how long. Arthur’s expression softened in the slightest, but he was still extremely stern. ”If you can deign to talk to me in private without throwing a fit and attempting to bludgeon me, I’d appreciate it. But if you’re unable to control yourself, then I see no reason for me to stay; I’ll show myself out. And don’t count on me returning.” Though if Yao really didn’t want Arthur to show his face around here, then perhaps him not returning would give him pleasure.
Arthur was entirely prepared to leave the kitchens immediately, though he wouldn’t leave with the papers tucked neatly in his waistcoat. He’d find a way to leave them behind so that no one else would discover them. Leon’s words, the slight shakiness of his penmanship didn’t need to be peered over by anyone else. Arthur thought them too valuable to be seen by anyone other than Yao and himself.
Yao wanted to hit him, he wanted to crack the metal straight into his skull. He continued to wiff just passed him, England dodging each attack with ease. It wasn't the first time they'd had a fight like this and he doubted it would be the last. Of course, he didn't have any real problem being interrupted in his work. It was more to show him where he was right now compared to England. He hoped he could see him for everything he was reduced to at the moment. He hoped that he felt it was entirely his fault.
The pressure to his wrist came quick and he felt his body going back until it slammed into the kitchen wall. Some of the servants jumped, others left but mostly proceeded to mind their own business. None of them were going to say anything against an Axis power. Yao was the only one that was brave enough to do so. He gritted his teeth and squirmed against the wall, now fully pressed to it. He cursed in Chinese several explicatives in his direction. The quick hiss from Arthur and the seriousness in his eyes made him pout and his body slowly stop fighting him. One by one his fingers released the handle and sent the skillet crashing to the ground.
It wasn't the first time he'd been in a position like this due to Arthur. Yao wasn't always the most conforming type, especially after he found out what Arthur was doing to him. It didn't change what Arthur wanted though and he could only assume that this was going to end up the same. Yao could fight all he wanted, but it wasn't going to change the outcome. With this in mind, his body stopped fighting and he resolved to glare at it, stabbing him with his eyes. He huffed at the rest of what Arthur said, ready to snap at him the moment he stopped talking. "That's a fine looking high horse." He snapped toward him like a dragon baring his teeth. It wouldn't be anything unfamiliar to Arthur, he'd dealt with Yao's temper before. Still, if he was going to get him to let go he'd have to calm his body language.
He'd continue that thought in a minute. "We could go into that closet over there." He huffed and tried to wiggle out of his grip. ""Let go.. I won't fuss." He pouted and waited for Arthur to let go before he dragged him into the supply closet. It was a cramped little hole in the wall with a small door. There was barely enough room to fit one person, but at least they could speak in private. "I see you're fitting in just fine with the Axis." He responded to his previous comment in how he'd exalted himself.
At first, Arthur would never have admitted that the cursing and the way that Yao reacted so angrily against him caused the smallest bit of warmth to stir in him; just like old times, indeed. And he had to keep himself in check. Hearing the satisfying clang of the skillet as it collided with the ground, Arthur loosened his hold over Yao, stepping slightly away from his body so that he wasn’t pinning him against the wall. Yes, he remembered positions like this very well and his jaw tightened ever so slightly with the comment. A hint of that glare returned and Arthur’s voice immediately responded, sharply, but lowly. ”You’re hardly one to talk. With your own oftentimes pretentious temperament, it seems as if you were born on one. And never quite dismounted.” Although, Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way. What was a nation without their pride?
But, in the end, Arthur agreed with moving to a more private area of the kitchens, even if it was the cramped closet space filled with supplies. He completely let go of Yao when he started to wriggle out of his grasp. Once inside, Arthur quickly turned on the only small light in the tiny space. It was only barely sufficient to illuminate the area. The shadows were a little deeper, but he could still see everything just fine, although his eyes were currently settled on Yao.
He attempted to maneuver to give appropriate space between them, leaning slightly against the shelf behind him. Arthur was quiet for a moment with Yao’s comment that he was fitting in with the Axis. His breath passed slowly in thought and caution. It was a dangerous subject and he felt uneasy treading on it. Even just speaking the quietest words in the safety of a dimly lit closet felt unsafe. Arthur pushed the hair a little from his eyes before sighing. ”You don’t know everything,” he finally responded, his voice softened from the harsh quality that it had outside the closet, quiet because the words were only meant for Yao’s ears for the moment. ”You—more than anyone out there—should understand the necessities of survival.”
He folded his arms loosely, still feeling the paper against his chest, snug in his waistcoat. ”Be patient… I know it’s easy for me to say with our different circumstances at the moment. But I still want you to be patient, be vigilant, cautious...” His eyes briefly flitted to the burns on Yao’s fingers.
”The other reason I came to see you… He’s been asking about you.” The corners of Arthur’s mouth twitched slightly, his entire visage softening as he took out the small bundle of papers in his waistcoat, unwrapping the tied string around them, letters written by Leon, and drawings, as well as a watercolor done in the back garden. Arthur tried to supply Leon with whatever he was able to get with the restrictions from the war slowly being lifted. ”He’s been well… He’s so incredibly clever… I swear he’s grown, even since I last saw him.” He handed over the envelopes and neatly folded papers once they were untied, for Yao to keep. Arthur spoke about little Leon with such pride, but he wanted to share that with Yao as much as he could, even in the middle of such turbulent times. Perhaps times like these were the most appropriate for the tender reminders, for a child's handwriting and handmade trinkets of affection.
If China was born on a high horse it was the absolute highest, and he felt he had a right to that position. He was older than most of the nations that talked to him directly today. They were always talking down to him, like he was weak, knew nothing, like he could be taken advantage of. The thought was just as disturbing as the reality of it all. England was no exception to this treatment. He thought that he might have been sweet to him once, but it was all a lie. One giant lie that England used to try and bring him crashing to the ground like the others. If China was still mounted on his horse it was clearly because he was superior to all of them. He’d survived their stupid onslaughts of terror….Even this one.
So, Yao’s eyes hardened when he mentioned survival. Arthur was a coward and that was the nicer way of saying it. Not that he had much room to talk on the subject either. He’d given up against Japan, but he had little choice. The other nations had left him in no position to defend himself properly either. This was a bad time for him to get involved in all of this, but at least he’d come out on the winning side in the end. It was better to be in Asia than it was to be in Europe, no matter how hard it got being here. Living under Japan’s roof was survival for now, until he would find a way out of it.
He listened to his warnings, but his eyes refused to change from their hardened stone. He was always patient and vigilant. It was Arthur that couldn’t wait to get his hands on anything, it was Arthur that couldn’t learn, process and understand the word NO. But he knew what he was trying to say to him. Yao crossed his arms and looked more upset with him than anything, but that wasn’t anything new for them.
But his hardened eyes widened as the crinkle of a paper came out of his pocket and he mentioned the only person that it could have been. His little Leon…..His poor little Leon. The little scraps of paper made his eyes shine with hope and he reached out to take them to his chest. He opened one immediately and looked at the scrawled letters and happy drawings of his little boy. His eye swelled up and he threw his fists on Arthur’s chest, hitting him hard over and over until his emotions took over. He abandoned his fight to tears and gripped the seam of his shirt, sobbing into it. There were some night he feared he’d never see him again and then some night he feared he would see him, but he’d be here, being raised by Japan.
Japan would never allow him to raise Leon in this home. This was all his fault.. This was all Arthurs fault! How dare he bring him these precious letters and remind him of what he couldn’t have. Yao sunk down to his knees, sliding down Arthur’s front and continued to sob into him around the small space. He tried to form words, but nothing made sense, he was speaking in Chinese anyway.
Arthur saw the way that Yao was looking at him, and it was easy to see that Yao thought very little of him, perhaps even thought him worse than a deserter. For what or whom, Arthur wasn’t exactly sure. Very few times in his history did Arthur ever have any loyalty to any of the other nations. None of them have ever particularly shown any interest in his unconditional loyalty, perhaps the brief sort that would benefit their interests for a season; he’d just always been off on his own for the majority of his existence. He hadn’t always been like that; but he had quickly become a product of his environment, just like everyone else. And the hypocrisy of this situation and the way that Yao was looking at him truly disgusted Arthur. Survival was their most basic instinct; and he was entirely convinced that Yao wouldn’t be spouting his criticisms or his holier-than-thou judgment if their situations were reversed.
He remained motionless as Yao beat at his chest. The sad reality was that Arthur hardly felt a thing; he still retained his standing as an empire, and he knew that Yao was hitting him hard with whatever strength he had in him at the moment. But he let him at it. However, seeing his tears, something that he rarely ever saw, Arthur had to avert his eyes. Tears from a nation felt like such a private and vulnerable moment and he wanted Yao to have that to himself. He also let him grip at his shirt, sob into the material, not caring if it got wet or damaged in the process.
Arthur remained still as Yao sunk down to his knees, still clinging to him and still sobbing. And this was the only time that Yao’s accusations that it was all his fault actually started to slowly adhere to his subconscious. This is what he’d brought Yao to, by even touching him at all in the past, the unkind reality behind why Leon even existed in the first place, and how he was inadvertently bringing him more pain by that reminder. Someone’s tears and blatant suffering usually made him want to hold them, pull them close, but the hardness in Yao’s eyes just moments prior told him that it was the last thing that Yao wanted from him—from the man who seemed to only know how to inflict pain.
He didn’t have any more words; Yao didn’t listen to them, only replaced them with his own. And he knew that he couldn’t give Yao anything more if he didn’t want anything from him; furthermore, it just seemed to further incite him. There was no kindness that Arthur felt like he could convey, because everything seemed to resemble salt into a wound that Arthur didn’t know how to heal. So, he just stood there for that brief, intense moment of Yao’s hurt and emotion. And Arthur could only think of one kindness that he could possibly give Yao, to remove the source of the pain, and he knew that was himself.
”Do you want me to leave?” He asked, trying to keep his own tone absent of that emotion brushing against his walls, rather still and quiet. No, perhaps it would be better if he just left. ”Here, I’ll just… go.” He muttered, waiting for Yao to release his grasp over him, reaching to open the storage door so that he could make his way out. Arthur didn’t necessarily want to leave, one of his initial intentions was to perhaps discuss a few more things with Yao, but he could tell that he was the last person that Yao wanted to see, so that idea was completely shot for Arthur at this point. And it just grew more apparent the longer he was here. The thought of a slightly more permanent good-bye caused his heart to twinge, so he simply and quietly resolved that he wouldn’t return unless he eventually had more letters to impart.
There was many things that Yao would have chosen over sobbing in front of Arthur. Sobbing in front of anyone was torture already, but to let this man see him cry was almost a crime. Tears were rare with Yao. It was much more likely to flood into an anger so intense that nothing would be left standing. In this one moment though, he couldn't help himself. The calm collected Yao was reduced to sobbing on the floor of this cramped closet for someone he held so dear to his heart.
When Arthur spoke the first time he barely heard him. Leon was the only thing going through his mind. He'd failed Leon. He'd failed him. The words would never leave his lips but in his heart he knew it was true. He couldn't protect him and now he couldn't even promise his safety with Arthur. It was the best choice for him….As much as it pained him to let Hong Kong go, Arthur was independent and could keep Leon safe from Japan. Kiku's jealous wrath was as deadly as his own.
The moment Arthur tried to move Yao gripped his leg. He pulled his watery eyes up from his hands and started up at him. Yao's fingers gripped into his pants leg and slowly he came to his feet again. His other hand still clutched the scribbles and drawings of his little Leon, so precious to his heart. He may have been furious with Arthur, but the gesture that he would bring anything to him was still notable. It was dangerous in the first place but Arthur seemed to think that Yao should have it.
Like magic, the water left his eyes and millennia of practice took its place. Yao put his emotions in check so quickly it was like they were never there to begin with. Once he'd collected himself and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, he sighed softly. "I don't want you to go…" Yao announced softly, though he was already gripping him to keep him there. They'd had so much trouble in the past. Trusting Arthur was nearly impossible and yet he did things like this to further confuse him. Yao didn't know whether Arthur was coming just to get the upper hand on him or if he genuinely cared about him anymore…Or if he ever did. But every time his mind wandered that way he was reminded that they were happy once, even under false pretense. They were happy…
Yao put the small pieces of paper on the inside of his uniform and made sure it was tucked away safely. He'd have to hide it from Japan but right now that didn't matter. "Stay with me.." He leaned up against him in a short moment of weakness. Carefully, his digits let go of their grip on his clothing and smoothed out the surface on his chest. He was so conflicted and this place was driving him insane. He needed something to do, something that wasn't this. He wanted to go home and go back to ruling his own….however that might be. Before it all happened he still hadn't had it entirely figured out.
