Burnt All Over (Giripan Oneshot)

Burnt All Over

Burns. His back was covered with them. His once-pale skin was now the colour of cooked meat. There wasn't a muscle in his torso he could move without pain spiking through him like a thousand bullets shot into him at once. He was bed-bound. He felt hair falling out onto his pillow sometimes. Radiation sickness.

Nobody ever visited him. He could do nothing but think. And the only thing he could possibly think about was what that bastard America had done, and those thoughts... well, they kind of hurt. They hurt a lot. They hurt so much, he wanted to die.

But he was a country. Countries can't die. Though maybe in the condition he was in, he'd be an exception.

He was bored.

Lonely.

Overcome with unbearable pain, emotional and physical.

Yeah. He hated everything about this.

Just as he closed his eyes for another attempt at sleep (already knowing it would be rudely interrupted by nightmare after nightmare), he heard something. Not like the sounds he had grown used to at this time of night: the crickets chirping and the animals in the woodland that surrounded his reclusive home returning to their beds. No, it was different.... It was...

It was a cat.

What was a cat doing here?

And that's when he heard the click. A key in a lock. Someone was coming in.

Remain calm, he heard his inner voice reassure him, God knows it's the only thing you're able to do.

There were four people who knew where he kept his spare key: Italy and Germany (being in the Axis with him), China (being family) and Greece (being his best friend). America had known, but he'd moved it after what happened happened.

Quickly linking the visitor to the purr he heard, he realised it was either China or Greece. Probably Greece. Though frankly he was in too much pain to care.

"Japan? Hello?" Greece. Definitely Greece. Weakly, he mumbled inaudible in reply, trying to say something and completely failing. Faintly he heard two sets of footsteps approaching his room: one heavy, one very light. He'd brought a cat. That man knew him far too well.
The second he saw him, he ran to his side, his voice an octave louder, more frantic than usual but still little more than a whisper. "Japan, are you okay?"

"Greece?" His voice came out as a croak.

"I'm here, Japan. Are you okay?"

"Okay...? No."

Greece took a seat next to Japan's bed. He ran his warm fingers through his hair. "Tell me what happened."

"It was... America," he murmured through shallow gasps of air, "He... bombed me. He bombed Hi... Hiroshima and now..." Japan's voice trailed away. Talking was straining.

"That son of a bitch." That was the first time he'd heard Greece swear without Turkey around.

"Mhm."

"I'm going to kick his ass."

"Not... necessary. I'm fine."

"You're on your back in agony. No you aren't."

"How do you... know how I feel?"

"I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. Also, you got bombed. You're in agony."

He smiled a little, despite everything. "Yeah. You're right. It's... unbearable."

Greece put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It can get worse but I promise you, it will get better."