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"Ah, w-wait, I-..."
But the belt of the hadajuban was already untied, and the robe itself, under someone else's influence, had fallen open, revealing a torso and the remaining underwear. However, that wasn't what caught his attention. Arthur's gaze caught on the scars that had previously been hidden beneath the clothing. No, he had already suspected the presence of small scars all over his body; after all, any country, over hundreds, even thousands, of years of existence, is prone to injuries. But several long scars on Kiku's lower abdomen caught his attention. Even during the alliance, Arthur hadn't learned all the customs of Japan. And yet...
"This...?" His hand let go of the robe and froze.
Kiku, lying beneath him, lightly covered his mouth.
"Do you understand?" he asked breathlessly, trying not to look away from the face opposite him.
Although Arthur still looked not at him, but below. A nod followed. He should have guessed that the personification of Japan himself practiced something similar. Some of the scars were paler; among them, a brighter one stood out. Healed, but different.
Arthur ran his thumb over it, causing the man below to flinch.
"Hara-kiri?" Arthur already knew the answer, but the question escaped him. "...And when was the last time you did that?"
The question was clearly referring to the scar that someone else's hand had gently touched a few moments ago. Kiku didn't even need to raise himself up on his elbows to check – he already knew.
He looked away, moving his shaking hand away from his face.
"I think it was 1895."
1895? Wasn't that when the war between Japan and China ended?
Arthur bowed his head, then, after a pause of a few seconds, nodded. When Kiku said this, the recent scar (even though it was 25 years old—in the world of nations, that's not much) took on meaning. He didn't want to ask why exactly he'd cut his stomach open; it was all clear.
"...Actually," Kiku suddenly spoke up, "seppuku was banned back in 1873."
Arthur looked up at him. Kiku was still looking away, but, feeling someone else's gaze on him, he looked back.
"...I think I've heard of that," he replied belatedly, staring into those too-deep brown eyes. "There are no more samurai in Japan."
"Then how did you do it and not get punished?" the question was on the tip of his tongue, but Arthur didn't think it was quite right. And really, what country hasn't broken its own rules and gone unpunished?
Kiku nodded and, almost unconsciously, sighed. Arthur's gaze returned to his scars. Still, he didn't want to imagine their owner cutting open his stomach. He didn't want to think about how Kiku felt in those moments.
As Kiku closed his eyes for a second, Arthur leaned down and touched the scars with his lips.
The body beneath him immediately shuddered, then tensed. A quiet "Ah?!" was heard, and Kiku propped himself up on his elbows. Arthur caught only the corner of his eye of confusion and embarrassment before he pressed his cheek to his stomach, hiding his face, feeling awkward at his own actions. He could almost feel the other man's trembling.
"Asa-kun?!"
"I have scars too," Arthur said as he held Kiku's waist with his hands. "It's normal... People like us aren't ashamed of it."
The silence seemed long. In reality, no more than a couple of seconds passed before the answer came:
"I'm not ashamed. I just... wasn't prepared."
The embarrassment in his voice suggested otherwise, but Arthur wanted to believe it. At least he didn't find scars unsightly, especially Kiku's.
Arthur pulled away abruptly and looked into the embarrassed face opposite.
"Just in case you were wondering, I told myself... about my lack of shame..."
The stupid excuses blurted out faster than Arthur could even think about them. However, they were met with a slight smile and quiet laughter. At first, Arthur wanted to be angry, but eventually he smiled too and leaned forward.
Their lips touched, and one of Kiku's hands touched Arthur's cheek, gradually moving closer to his neck. They both felt the other smile into the kiss.
Arthur pulled away first. Kiku rose up, forcing Arthur to sit on his hips. The Japanese man reached for the other's shirt collar (how had they not noticed Arthur was still fully dressed?) and smiled slyly. Seeing Arthur's confusion, Kiku said, not expecting such an action from himself:
"I want to see your scars too, Asa-kun." His fingers carefully unbuttoned the buttons of his snow-white shirt, but then paused. "You don't mind?"
Arthur, too, hadn't expected Kiku's overt words and actions. But to say he disliked his initiative would be a lie. Even though Kiku's embarrassment was obvious, his lips stretched into a smile.
"Ha, no, I don't mind," he replied, looking Kiku straight in the eyes.