(Li is Hong Kong and Mei is Taiwan, just in case you don't already know ;p also here's a longer chappie woo! Also it's not nearly as fluffy as the other chapters...this one gets a little darker? I mean, not dark dark, but certainly not the happiest. Picture by hetalia223 on DeviantArt)

Yao wanted out. That was it. He wanted out of the cage that he had been trapped in all his life. His adopted brother, Kiku, had always been perfect brother, the perfect son, the perfect student...always perfect. More perfect than Yao, who was disabled, deformed; his arms stopped at half the length of a normal arm, and his hands were twisted permanently at an inhuman angle.

He made it work—he figured out at a young age how to write, carry things, do anything, really. He was often asked if his condition was painful. He always answered with a dismissive, "No." That was only partially true, though. On the physical side, it was never painful. It felt no different than a regular arm would. However, on a mental level, it was another story.

Yao understood at his earliest memory that he would never fit in. When he was thrown out of his original family and sent to an overcrowded orphanage, he knew exactly why. There were a few at the orphanage who were totally normal—perhaps they were accidents, forced to be given up because of the strict one-child policy in China. More often, though, there were people like him: deformed children, thrown out, unwanted. Worthless in the eyes of a culture in which perfection was key, and the honor of the family was everything. As for a deformity, well...the parents would always be ashamed of that. They only had one chance in this nation to bring up the most perfect, worthy, honorable child. Naturally, Yao would be thrown aside.

As soon as Yao was out of sight, his parents could try again for perfection. Twice, he suspected, they failed. Over the next several years, two more undesirables arrived at the orphanage. One had a cleft palate an obvious limp. He had to attach rocks to the bottom of his threadbare shoes to keep himself steady, and no one could understand him when he talked. The other was missing her right arm and her sleeve always dangled and snagged everywhere she went.

His name was Li. Hers was Mei. They felt a mutual connection to each other: the special bond shared by siblings. They made it a point to be there for each other every second of every day, and they held true to it. As fate would have it, it turned out, the three of them were adopted by a somewhat wealthy American couple.

And life got better. They no longer had to fight with the other children for food. They'd have plenty to eat, and it wasn't of the questionable quality that the food overseas had been. And, of course, they'd never forget their first thought when they reached America.

Mei had pointed at the sky and yelled in Cantonese, "Look there! We're in a different land. My, even the sky is different!" Then they all stared heavenward, dumbfounded. What magical land were they in, that even the sky was colorful, instead of the gray taint of smog that they had always known in China?

The best thing, however, was not the fresh water, the clean air, the abundance of food, or even the beautiful sky. It wasn't the soft beds or the stable roof over their heads. No, the best thing was Kiku.

Kiku was Japanese, the sworn enemy to the Chinese. He was everything they weren't, but at the same time, he was exactly like him. At first, the children were wary.

"He seems detached, emotionless, even..." mumbled Yao.

"What if he's like the other kids? What if he hurts us?" stumbled Li.

"I read a book about Nanking at the orphanage, and..." whispered a fidgeting Mei.

With time, though, they all grew very fond of Kiku. The boy was humble to a fault and quiet, only speaking when spoken to. He stayed out of other people's business for the most part, which they were all very thankful for. In the evenings after supper, the four of them would gather around Kiku and his laptop and watch cartoons with him. Anime, Kiku had called it.

Yao and Kiku were the same age at thirteen and shared a room, but Kiku had been adopted when he was eight. Yao had to wait until he was eleven. Mei and Li, who also shared a room, were eight and nine respectively when they were adopted. Yao and Kiku were incredibly fast friends, considering they were Chinese and Japanese. It was like Romeo and Juliet, but a lot more racist.

All in all, Yao's life had taken a turn for the better, and some days he would catch himself wondering if life across the globe had ever existed at all. Some days he would assume that it hadn't; it had to have been some twisted nightmare, some reality as deformed as he was.

Over the next couple years, Yao learned that an American school was much different than a Chinese orphanage, despite the things he had heard. He was unspeakably grateful for that. The only real problem he had was making friends. The language barrier was still thick between he and his classmates. Not to mention that they were all massively freaked out by his deformed arms, even if they tried to fake a lack of discomfort.

However, the worst part wasn't having very few friends or having trouble learning because of the language barrier. No, the worst part was the pity. All the students showed Yao unnecessary pity, and he absolutely hated it. It was always, "I'll carry your books for you," or, "Hey, need some help with your lunch tray?" or, worst of all, "Wow, I'm...really sorry you have to live like that."

"Don't you realize I can take care of myself?" Yao wanted to yell at them. If it weren't for the damned language barrier...

"I can take care of myself just fine," Yao complained one day to Kiku. "I don't understand why these children keep telling me that somehow the way I was born is supposed to hinder me. I don't understand why just because I'm handicapped I'm supposed to play the damsel in distress and make everyone help me." Kiku stared, breaking off a piece of his chocolate bar and handing it to Yao silently. "They want  me to talk more for them...it's like I'm a plaything, not a human..."

Kiku sighed, "They all want to be friends with you, but only because they pity you?" Yao nodded quickly.

'None of them actually care. They only pity you.'

So yeah, Yao wanted out of the cage. He wanted to show everyone how capable he was. He wanted to prove that his handicap didn't change anything. Everyone seemed to worry that he didn't feel like a person. Everyone worried that children would run in fear at the sight of him.

'No one realizes what actually hurts.' Yao was lying in bed, trying to sleep, but he couldn't with these thoughts swarming his mind. Eventually, he just gave up with a huff. He reached for the book on the bedside table, but he had to roll over to fully reach it. 'I don't feel left out because people are afraid. I feel left out because people pity too much to see a capable human.'

He read until he passed out with the book on his chest. When he woke up, the book was gone. Yao blinked a couple times before remembering the night before. Feeling the lack of weight on his chest, he shot up into a sitting position, looking around frantically. That's when he spotted Kiku, holding the book a few feet away. The Japanese boy's fingers drummed on the cover absentmindedly.

"How long did you sleep?"

"I think I fell asleep at three," Yao confesses.

Kiku pressed his lips into a thin line. He stayed silent, the clock on the wall ticking behind them. It ticked for a minute before Kiku finally said, "There's breakfast downstairs." Yao nodded, sliding out of bed. "And Yao?" He looked at the other boy. Kiku set the book on his bed and murmured with a look of concern on his face, "Try to get some more sleep tonight, kay?"

Yao muttered back, "Kay." When they went to leave the room, they're hands brushed against each other's. They smiled at each other.

'They pity you. Show them what you're worth.'

Maybe that's why Yao joined cross country. You didn't necessarily need your arms, like in other sports, and if the other students saw him doing well, they might stop pitying him. When he first showed up at the Shack, students thought he was lost. After all, was someone like him even capable of a sport? He was grateful that they understood when he explained that he needed to show people he was capable of anything he put his mind to.

The coach was concerned about Yao's grades.

"Yao, are you sure you're ready to do a sport?" the coach asked one day after pulling the Chinese boy aside. "I mean, I'm not doubting your ability to do the sport itself, but..." he trailed off. "Time-wise. Are you sure you'll have enough time to get schoolwork done...?" He was eyeing Yao's arms.

Yao couldn't help but scowl, "I'll be fine." 'They pity you...nothing but pity...' Without waiting for a response, he trudged back to the Shack.

Eliza sat by him as soon as he sat down. "What was that about?" she asked. Yao sighed heavily.

"Mr. Allaway thinks I can't handle homework and cross country," he answered miserably.

Eliza raised an eyebrow, "Can you?"

"Yes!" Yao cried indignantly. 'Maybe you can't."I don't know! I think so..." Eliza set a comforting hand on his shoulder. "As long as Kiku helps me, I'll be fine."

Eliza nodded, rubbing Yao's shoulder, "I'll help you, too, if you ever need it."

Yao visibly stiffened, "I won't." Eliza raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the issue. Their conversation was interrupted by Allaway clapping his hands loudly to get the team's attention.

"All right everybody, ten minutes, push yourself! Anywhere you'd like. Grab a stopwatch and go!" he yelled. Yao sighed and stood up, following Eliza and the rest of the team to grab a stopwatch. Eliza smiled to Yao.

"Run with me?" she offered.

And as he nodded, Yao couldn't help but smile back.