A book closed with a soft snap, the only sound in the otherwise quiet home. He placed it gently on the kotatsu and paused to briefly caress its worn leather cover. It was a novel that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family, but its yellowing pages still held firm, within properly delicate hands. He felt rather like the tattered old thing, knowing nothing but moving around constantly throughout his lifetime. Exhaustion and strain caught up to his weary bones after the long voyage he had made with his comrades. What they all needed was a long rest.
However, that was not to be taken here, but up in the mountains.
He rose from his pillow, his feet, covered modestly with thin socks, barely whispering over the polished hardwood floors during his trek to the window.
His Italian friend sat on the curb, anxiously awaiting Germany's return. He had propped his elbows up on his knees and rested his chin in his hands. His unwavering amber gaze focused on the street down which their battered old Ferrari would putt-putt until it reached their driveway, giving a sputtering cough before it would sit soundless and unmoving. Nothing broke Feliciano's concentration, not even the leaf that brushed against his boot before skittering along its undeterminable way. His short auburn hair that would darken with the approaching winter barely rustled in the cool breeze, a pert curl jutting out against the forces around it that dared keep it down.
Kiku Honda shook his head. When Italy would not accompany Ludwig, he would be found on the curb outside anticipating his arrival back home, even if the blonde was a mere two blocks away at the grocery store. It was an odd habit that seemed to follow them anywhere they went. Again the thought arrived in his head, as sudden as the wind that caressed the world outside. Who, out of the three of them, suffered the worst emotional damage from their move to the suburbs? He'd been pondering the question for a long time; the plethora of emotions he picked up from the other two was difficult to sort.
Japan had been born with a kind of sixth sense. He could easily detect others' emotions with it. But that was barely scratching the surface of all that he was capable of doing. As far as he had experienced (be they constant or occasional incidents), he could locate lost objects, catch a snippet of a person's train of thought, or even pick up a vague image of the future. His family was the only group that possessed this knowledge; he was actually rather protective of his secret and was scared that he would be criticized about his gift; especially should he mention the entity that appeared when he was deep in concentration. The person had no given name, so he kept to calling him Hayate.
The ebony-haired man sighed as he pulled the heavy wooden door open. He began crossing the yard, a stray browned leaf crackling beneath his foot. He adjusted his yukata as he took a seat next to Feliciano.
"Kon'nichiwa, Italy," he greeted softly (with his strong accent it came out as Itary). The Italian's startled jolt to attention was almost unnoticeable, but he turned with a smile, offering a quick wave.
"Ciao Japan!" he replied happily. "Come stai? How are you today?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
"Fine, ve~. Just waiting." Both eyes returned to the road. The only noises that permeated the air for a long moment were those of the city ambience in the distance. Well, now was as good a time as any to speak up. So, Kiku cleared his throat.
"Italy…I-I've been meaning to ask you," he started hesitantly.
"Sí? What is it?" Feli's gaze turned questioning as he faced his friend.
"Well, I was wondering…um… How did you feel about coming to Berlin from Tokyo?" Vague surprise came across the other's face. It quickly morphed into a look of consideration, and then the Italian hugged his knees to his chest.
"I didn't mind it," he lied, offering a smile that almost seemed forced, which was very unusual for him.
Japan raised a brow unconvinced. "You're a very bad liar, we both know that. Now, please, be honest. How did you feel about it?"
"I-I don't know…" he muttered sheepishly, honey-colored hues wandering to the ground. He almost appeared as a scolded child. "I feel a lot of things, I guess. Sad, angry, confused, scared…"
"About what?"
"About everything that's happened…"
"Explain, please?"
"Well…" Feliciano shrugged. "I-I guess… I'm sad because I miss everyone and everything we left. I'm mad at myself for getting us into this whole mess to start with. I-I'm confused about how it all happened the way it did and where we're going. And…"
"And?"
"And…A-and I'm scared because you guys seemed so upset when we had to go, and s-since it was my fault, I'm scared you'll hate me because I ruined it for you, too." Ending the sentence in a rush, he buried his face in his hands, sniffing sharply as if doing so would retain the tears that threatened to leak down his cheeks.
Well, Japan had his answer.
"Italy…" He placed his hand on the brunette's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't beat yourself up about what happened. It wasn't your fault, not in the least. It happened to you, not because of you." Feli sat up, his watery golden gaze tinted with slight uncertainty.
"R-really…?" he asked in a skeptic tone.
"Hai, it happened to you just like it happened to Ludwig and me."
"…D-do you really believe that?"
"Hai, I do." He offered a small, reassuring smile. "We're all upset about the move, and we wish it didn't have to happen. But it did. You know, I think it might even be for the better."
"Wh…really?" The Italian cocked a brow. "How so?"
"Well…You didn't seem very happy while you were there, and Germany clearly had trouble getting along with people."
"But what about you?"
"It just didn't seem right. Maybe because you two didn't like it…" His smile grew kinder and wider.
"But Tokyo's your capital, sí?" Feli tilted his head, only looking more confused at his friend's words.
"It's not comfortable to me if it isn't for you two. At any rate, we'll all start fresh when we get up to the mountains. You'll paint, I'll get some animation done, and Germany will care for the hotel."
Italy nodded and seemed to warm up to the idea. A small smile began to tug at the corner of his lips. "Yeah! And we can pick up our lives from there, and we'll do a lot better, right?"
"Hai, exactly."
"And we'll live happily ever after?"
"Of course." With a nod, the Japanese man patted Feliciano's shoulder blade. He found himself pulled into a tight embrace soon after doing so, as if he activated a secret switch on the other's back like a wind-up toy.
"Grazie, Japan…" The gust around them made his whisper barely audible.
"Um…N-no problem, Italy, just…" Blood flooded Kiku's cheeks as he placed his hands on the brunette's shoulders and gently pushed him away. "…personal bubble, remember?"
"Oh, right! Sí, I forgot!" With a giggle, his ocher eyes reverted to the street that seemed to extend into the horizon. It didn't take long for them to return to the Japanese man. "Oh! Japan Japan Japan! Guess what, guess what!"
"Nani?"
"The last time I did the Bad Thing was seventy years ago today!" He perked up considerably at the news and grinned. "Aren't you proud of me?"
"H-hai, that's quite an achievement. We should celebrate!"
"Can we have pasta for dinner?"
"…we always have pasta for dinner, don't we?"
"Well…sí, but I mean that really good pasta that you make! You know, you usually cook it as soup and everything, and you put those veggies in it…"
"Ramen?"
"Yeah, that stuff!" He gave an eager, vigorous nod.
"Sure, if you want it."
"Grazie!" A small chuckle escaped the Italian's lips despite the hand held up in a feeble attempt to hold it in. Suddenly he stopped. A look of contemplation graced his features, and he tapped his chin in a comical way. "Wait, idea coming up… Instead of just ramen, how about all three of us cook something? It'll be a lot of fun!"
"That's a great idea, Italy," Japan agreed with a nod.
"Yay, grazie!" Feliciano reached to hug the ebony-haired man again, but he quickly remembered the events from earlier, so he retracted his arms. "Whoops, dispiace…" Instead he patted Kiku's shoulder and returned to his vigil.
"It's fine, Italy." The Japanese man climbed to his feet, his chestnut eyes scanning the street once more before straightening the wrinkles from his yukata. "I think I'm going to start lunch now."
"Really? Was that all you needed?"
"Hai it was. Arigato."
"Oh, alright!" Feli tilted his head backwards to smile up at Japan. "Prego, Kiku~!" Returning the smile as Italy returned to watching the street, he began heading back inside. A thought tugged at the back of the Japanese man's mind as he pulled open the door once again.
I wonder what Germany-san is doing right now.
(Kay, I rewrote chapter 2 and went into more detail. :3 Hopefully this works out better~!)
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