Dance of the Warriors

_{Summary: In which Greece and Japan engage in (aggressive) swordplay. De-anon from the kinkmeme.
Disclaimer:  No nation-tan (or cat) was seriously injured in the writing of this fill. Well, not really.}

~.*.~

"Warriors during Mother's time didn't really use swords. Or at least, not as often as your samurai do."

"Oh? What did they use instead?"

"A Greek soldier's main weapon was the spear. Swords were auxiliary weapons, and used mostly when one loses his spear in battle."

"That is certainly interesting. And even so, your people created one of best sword designs in history."

"Mmh. A little ironic, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

Japan shook his head a little, returning his thoughts back to the onigiri he was rolling in his hands. He had risen earlier today to prepare some lunch for Greece and himself. Dressed only in his cotton yukata, he could feel the heat of the morning sun slowly creep across the kitchen floor and snake up his feet, chasing away the night chills within his bones.

Summer had arrived, and the turn of the seasons brought with it bursts of colours from blossoming flowers, blazing hot weather and occasional bouts of rain. It was also a time for writing wishes on paper streamers, for setting decorative bamboo offerings afloat on rivers, for celebrating festivals with music and fireworks.

Japan frowned, wiping away a trickle of sweat from his temples as he continued his work. An archaeological exhibition on the subject of ancient Greek and Japanese weaponry was scheduled to begin today, one of the many summer cultural exchanges held in celebration of the nations' long friendship. He had made agreements with Greece to view the exhibits together and Japan's mind kept wandering back to their discussion several days back, about ancient warriors and battles. He was excited, to say the least.

He had just finished wrapping the nori around the last piece of onigiri when he heard a couple of knocks from the front door.

"はいい~!" Rinsing his hands clean, he quickly made his way to answer it, wondering who it could be this early in the morning.

"おはようございます..." He began as he slid open the door, only to have the rest of his words fail him.

"καλημέρα, Ιαπωνία." Greece stood before him, dressed in what looked like a chiton and a leather tunic over it, much like the battle dress ancient Greek soldiers used to wear. Leather greaves adorned with intricate designs enclosed around his calves and leather sandals wrapped over his feet like vines. With his hair aglow in the sun washing over him, and his skin a radiant bronze, he looked like a god.

"...Japan?"

At the sound of the other's voice, Japan pulled himself out of his reverie, realizing that he'd been staring speechlessly at Greece. One couldn't blame him for doing so however, as it wasn't everyday that you had a Greek warrior paying a visit right outside your door step. A lesser man would have gaped stupidly, but he was a Japanese man, and he recalled his manners. So he did not gape, and instead invited his friend inside. He did however, allow himself to sneak a glance past the hem of the tunic and at those muscular thighs.

"My apologies, Greece-san. Please, make yourself at home. I'll prepare some tea."

Greece settled comfortably at the veranda, stroking the grey and white cat which had followed him before and was now curled in his lap. He gazed out at the blooming plants, the flowers painting the garden in splashes of colour and thought how very much it looked like those postcards Japan sent him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Japan finally returned, setting down a tray of tea and cakes beside them. Greece graciously accepted the cup passed to him, and as he shifted in his seat, the grey and white cat yawned lazily, leaping out from his lap and out into the garden, suddenly intrigued by a couple of butterflies flitting around by the hydrangeas. They both watched the cat dance in circles after the butterflies, batting clumsily with its furry paws. Japan sipped his tea and after a prolonged silence, spoke up.

"Greece-san, may I ask why you are dressed like so?"

The Grecian was still studying the cat intently, and Japan wondered if he'd even heard his question when Greece finally turned his gaze back at his friend, head tilted sideways as if pondering about Japan's question like how he'd ponder about Sisyphus.

"Since we're going for the cultural exhibition later, I thought I'd dress the part."

"Dress the part?"

"Like how some of your people go out dressed up as superheroes or alien beings. I'm not quite sure what events make people want look like aliens though."

Japan couldn't help but chuckle softly at Greece's last words.

"It's called cos-playing, and it's quite a popular hobby here. Sometimes they even have props to go along with their costumes."

"Props?" Greece hmmed softly at the back of his throat, and reached over behind him, fishing for something in the bag he'd brought with him. Japan looked on, curious and when Greece turned to face him again, he held up a sword, its leaf-shaped blade glinting in the sun.

"Like this?"

"Ah, Greece-san, where did you get that from?"

Greece waved the blade lightly, as if testing out the feel of the blade cutting through thin air.

"It's a replica Xiphos sword, fashioned after those used by Ancient Greeks. I thought you might be interested to see one."

Japan was indeed curious to study the sword more, although he wondered why Greece thought he couldn't inspect it when they headed to the exhibit later. Surely they had Xiphos swords there as well? But it wasn't in the Japanese man's nature to question things like this, so he only nodded and slowly reached out to touch the blade when Greece laid it on the floor beside them. Even though it was unsharpened, the blade did not look less magnificent or dull, and Japan could almost feel how old the weapon was.

"It is beautiful." he stated simply.

"You have replicas of old weapons and armoury too, right?"

"Indeed."

"I'd like to see them."

Several minutes later, the two were looking upon an assortment of replicas, weapons and armoury used by samurai of old which Japan had carefully kept away. Greece glanced through them, his green eyes lit with curiosity as he studied the golden crests atop a black helmet.

"Does Japan still keep his real sword?"

"Kusanagi, you mean? I do, but I have no use for it ever since the war ended." Japan paused, thinking hard. "I keep it mostly out of sentimental reasons, I suppose. Also because it was entrusted to me by the people."

Greece hmmed again, as he set the helmet back down, and swept his gaze over the other replicas, running a hand slowly over the hilt of a katana. Japan could tell from the way Greece fingered the red and gold scabbard cords that he was musing about a new idea, although he wasn't quite sure what it was.

"We should spar with swords." The Grecian finally said.

"A-Ah...?"

Greece lips quirked at the look on Japan's face. For someone who was mostly stoic, Japan's expressions were incredibly endearing when he did allow them to show.

"It would be interesting to try."

Japan shook his head, a hand reaching up to tuck dark hair behind his ear. "I'm not sure about that, Greece-san. I don't want to cause any accidental injuries."

"It's odd you'd say that." Greece's eyes widen a little in surprise. "I mean, considering how many late nights you spent playing Star Wars Lightsaber Duel on Wii, I thought you'd jump at the chance for a real duel."

Japan felt his cheeks warming, and averted his gaze. "T-That's different. It's only a game; therefore it poses no real threat of serious injuries."

Greece would not be so easily put off however. Perhaps it was due to their discussion of battles and warriors. Perhaps it was because they were seated here now, surrounded by remnants of their history. Whatever it was, it had piqued his interest, gnawing away stubbornly at him, and the more he thought about it, the more he wished to catch a glimpse of Japan in battle. Japan was a force to be reckoned with in the old days, that much Greece knew and now that this new idea had entered his mind, it refused to go away, and the only way to satisfy this curiosity was to witness it with his own eyes. So he tried again.

Reaching forward, Greece gently took Japan's right hand in his, brushing his palm lightly with calloused fingers. Japan hesitated at first, but didn't pull away, and allowed Greece to bring his hand closer to hover over the Xiphos sword. Greece directed Japan's hand to run gently along the length of the unsharpened blade, to feel the coldness of steel on his fingers. Leaning forward, he murmured into Japan's ears, his breath warm against his neck.

"Don't you remember what it felt like to hold a sword before?" Still holding that pale hand in his own tanned ones, Greece brought it back to the katana instead, to touch the intricate cords woven around the handle. "That gradual buildup of emotions as you dress for battle– "

He leaned forward again and touched both their fingers to the golden hilt,

"–the anticipation mixed with slight apprehension as you don the helmet, securing it tightly around your head–"

And then he trailed those fingers gently, almost teasingly down the length of the unsharpened katana blade,

"–and when you finally enter the field, charging forward at your opponent, don't you remember how the adrenaline rushes and pulses through you, how the blood sings in your ears...?"

Japan stayed silent the entire time Greece spoke into his ear, his expression betraying nothing but Greece felt him shudder ever so slightly each time they ran their fingers over different parts of the swords.

"Don't you miss the feeling of being a warrior, Japan?" the Grecian murmured softly, scraping his fingers gently against the back of the other's hand.

Japan slowly released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, his body quivering in barely-contained excitement. Then, like a cat, he slowly slid out of Greece's hold and made his way towards the dressing room.

"I'll meet you in the garden in five minutes."

Greece smiled quietly to himself.

* * *

If anyone were to look in the garden now, they might think they were stealing a glimpse of history, or that perhaps the garden itself was transported back to a time which only existed now in stories and dreams. At one end, the Grecian stood, the scent of hydrangeas wafting up to him as he breathed in deeply. He held the Xiphos sword in his right hand, watching the grey and white cat purr and nuzzle about his ankles, before it slunk off to sit itself back on the veranda, its long, bushy tail wrapped about its paws.

He lifted his gaze from the cat to the Japanese man standing directly across from him, his back to the cherry tree, its flowers withered and gone as quickly as they had bloomed in spring. Greece let his eyes wander over the other man, studying his clothing appreciatively. Japan was now dressed in a simple blue uwagi and black hakama. The replica katana hung loosely from his hip, seriousness etched upon his features. Greece thought he looked beautiful.

The two scrutinized each other for a while, before Japan dipped his head in a polite bow. Then, drawing his sword slowly and raising it parallel to the ground, he made the first move to attack. He was quick, but Greece sidestepped and dodged, only to have Japan move again to strike at Greece's other side. Greece blocked the blow with his sword, realising belatedly how agile Japan could be. Japan twirled, swinging the katana to slash and again Greece parried the cut in the nick of time, their swords clashing sharply before both of them pulled back.

A force to be reckoned with indeed, Greece thought. He panted, rubbing away the sweat from his jaw, watching as Japan stood across him, his expression still as impassive as before. A part of him held back (and he was quite certain Japan was doing the same) – he could not bring himself to seriously injure his friend. There was however, a bigger part of him deep inside, a part that craved more and as Greece breathed deeply, memories of a time long gone washed over him – hooves thundering against the ground, war-drums beating, soldiers marching and chanting...

As Japan raised his sword again, he wondered if Greece was all right; he had kept his eyes closed for a long time. Just as he thought of voicing his concern, Greece finally opened those eyes and as he did so, Japan noticed a significant difference in them. They were brighter, lit with a new intensity and his stance was more confident, his jaw set with a sense of attentiveness that wasn't there before. The change surprised the Japanese man, but instinct and old habits kept it from showing.

If anything, Japan was more intrigued. He had never seen Greece as staid as this. He should be concerned by this drastic change, he knows, but all he felt right now was exhilaration. And so, he lunged forward again, coming in hard at Greece with the katana, only to have Greece parry the blow with his own blade. Japan moved away, ready to strike out again at Greece's other side like before–

–only to feel a jarring blow to his side as Greece slammed a hard fist to his ribs. Japan gasped sharply, surprised and twirled away, the Xiphos blade singing as it cut into the air where he stood just moments before. They drew back again, both circling each other warily.

"Nervous?" Greece asked, breaking the silence. Japan frowned, still a little unnerved at getting caught off-guard so easily and was about to give an indignant reply when he noticed a gleam of humour in those teal eyes. He shook his head, his dark fringe skimming over his eyes as he chuckled softly.

"Petrified." He replied, allowing a small smile to paint the corners of his lips.

Greece gave a short, breathy laugh, not missing the equivocal snark in the other's voice. He raised the Xiphos blade over him, almost as if he were holding a spear, and fell into an offensive stance. Japan held up the katana before him, his eyes never leaving Greece's and he continued to watch as Greece circled him silently, slowly and then–

A flurry of movements and Greece lunged forward, swinging the Xiphos in a swift downward strike. Japan deflected the blow with the katana, wincing a little from the strain in his wrist as the blade scraped down the length of steel noisily. He drew back just as the Grecian lunged again, parrying the second blow and turning, reached for the sheath at his hip with his free hand and rammed it under Greece's armpit.

Greece grunted in shock and before he could react, Japan spun on his heels and drove the pommel of his sword right into the other's solar plexus. Greece coughed, staggering backwards, but not before he struck out, nicking the top of Japan's shoulder. Japan hissed in pain, leaping away just as he felt his shoulder throb. Both opponents drew back, watching each other, their breaths short and sharp, sweat trickling from their temples. They could feel the blood rushing in their ears, coalescing with the pit-a-patter of their racing hearts –doki doki, hara hara– in a strong, rhythmic beat. A moment's respite and then they came at each other once again, lunging, striking.

Step, step, cut–

Step, step, parry–

Greece pivoted on his heels as he swung the Xiphos left-right-left, dipping the blade in short, slicing movements.

Troy. Thermopylae. Issus.

He did not witness these battles with his own eyes, but he remembers them like lullabies told to a child; stories his mother sung to him as he curled up in her lap, half-listening and half-asleep. He remembers them, and could almost hear the battle cries of those warriors long gone as he moved in steady, calculated steps, instinct driving him forward. Greece knew he would never be the glorious empire his mother once was, but her warrior blood still runs through him and he moved just like how she must have did once.

Step, step, slash–

Step, step, block–

Like a whirlwind breathed to life by Susano-o, Japan spun and twirled, dodging blows as deftly as he returned them. He had felt the raw power of Greece in that first punch and he knew it'd be unwise to receive another. So he kept up his pace, moving swiftly, nimbly.

Sekigahara. Toba-Fushimi. Shiroyama.

He remembers those days clearly – the cries and shouts of the men; the crash of blades and armour resounding together like a symphony of steel. He was there, fighting alongside his people, his warriors of honour and valour and loyalty. He was there, fighting against some of them, during a time of rebellions and civil wars. He remembers them and always will, as long as his people never forget who they truly are – sons and daughters of Nippon.

And so they attacked and deflected, driving their swords hard at one another, dancing in circles over and over.

Dance of death. Dance of life.

Twirling, spinning, cutting, blocking; each movement fluid and forceful at the same time. Faster and faster they moved, until they were almost chest to chest to each other and with a final clash of blades, they come to an abrupt stop, panting heavily. Greece had managed to slip his blade past Japan's defence and to the side of his ribs where he'd landed the first punch before. Japan, in turn, had his katana held just below the left side of Greece's neck.

A moment of silence, as the two stood, frozen in their tracks, eyes still locked. And then Japan noticed the slight trickle of crimson on Greece's left cheek, and he started, breaking out of his reverie. He drew back, dropping the katana to his side, and reaching out to cup Greece's face with both hands, his features now marked with worry.

"Ah... I'm so sorry, Greece-san." he began, flustered. Greece blinked as Japan thumbed his cheek gently, feeling the cut sting a little, and then shook his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts. The sounds of war-cries and drums slowly faded from his ears, to be replaced instead with the chirping of crickets, the soft rustling of leaves in the winds and he remembered then where they were.

He felt as though he had just woken up from a long dream.

"Greece....?"

He blinked again, focusing his gaze on Japan, who was still studying him, disquiet in those soft brown eyes. Japan was still touching his face tentatively, and Greece reached for those pale hands, bringing his fingers close to his lips and kissing them gently.

"It's all right, it's just a graze. I've had worse before." The Grecian tilted his head to one side, looking over his friend. "Sorry about the first punch, I think I got carried away."

Japan winced a little but chuckled nonetheless, his face crinkling with warmth. Replacing the katana back into its sheath, he began to make his way back to the veranda. Greece followed suited, slinging the Xiphos across his shoulders. The sun was already high up in the sky, and judging by the heat of the blaze, it's was almost noon. They should probably be getting ready to head to the exhibition soon.

Greece was starting to regret wearing the leather greaves and tunic; the heat was getting unbearable. Perhaps he could just go in the chiton and sandals? He was quite certain Japan would have no objections to that.

"Heracles-san." Japan said, pausing just before he stepped back into the veranda. "You were right about duelling with swords, it was an interesting experience. Thank you."

Greece hmmed in agreement, mildly-surprised at the use of his human name.

"And while we're on the subject of swords, maybe there are other things we could try." Japan gave Greece a sidelong glance, the tiniest of smirks tracing the corner of his lips. "I heard that sword swallowing was also commonly practiced in Ancient Greece. Perhaps we could even exchange tricks, among other things...."

Greece nearly tripped over the grey and white cat, which had sauntered up to him. He looked up to gape wordlessly after Japan, who only bowed slowly, his cheeks dusted with only the slightest hint of a blush, waiting for his guest to enter the house. Teal eyes warmed then and a smile broke over his face as Greece laughed softly, following after Japan.

"It would be my honour to do so, καρδιάς μου."

The wind picked up once more, showering the garden with petals and withering leaves. The grey and white cat watched for a moment, and then with a soft mmmhrr and a flick of its tail, bounded after the two.


-τελος-
_ _ _ _ _

_{Translations:
はいい, hai  (japanese) – yes
おはようございます, ohayoo gozaimasu (japanese) – good morning
καλημέρα, Ιαπωνία, kaliméra, Iaponía (greek) – good morning, japan
καρδιάς μου, kardiás mou (greek) – my heart, a term of endearment}