Title: Matsugo No Mizu

Character(s): Kiku Honda (Japan), Arthur Kirkland (England), Alfred F. Jones (America), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Feliciano Vargas (N. Italy)

Rating: K

Summary: The day began like any other.

Notes: I felt like I had to write something about this, so here you go. Also, bid for me at the help_japan auction on LJ, whenever that goes up! I'm lily_winterwood on LJ, and I'll be offering fanfic, art, or graphics.

Matsugo No Mizu

11 March 2011

The day began like any other. Kiku Honda woke and went to work early in the morning, like his citizens. Everything was peaceful; everyone was minding his or her own business.

Another day, another workload. Kiku spent his time doing paperwork for his government. It was tedious, but it had to be done. There was a parliament meeting scheduled for the afternoon, and his boss needed all of the reports done by then.

Kiku also had meetings of his own, between his fellow Nations. There was one scheduled in the early evening, and he had an entire presentation on alternative energy sources prepared for that. The Japanese man sighed, looking at the report that he was editing –

– And then the world fell out from under his feet.

At least, that seemed to be the case at first. Kiku clutched the desk when he realised that he was shaking – and not just him, the entire room. The glass vase of golden chrysanthemums fell to the floor and shattered; books slipped off their shelves. He dove under the desk, still twitching as the rest of the building creaked.

His windows were open, which somehow made it worse. People were screaming and crying outside; he could hear them as they tried to run from destruction and death. For a moment, it felt as if one of his infamous films had come true – a monster was ravaging his cities.

Now, the monster was the earth itself.

Kiku twitched again. He was used to these sorts of fits; earlier in the week he had one. But usually his twitching didn't go on for this long. His composure was slipping.

How long would it last? He was clinging onto the desk as if his life depended it on it (it probably did), listening to the crashes and clatters and creaks all around. The crying continued.

For a moment, Kiku randomly thought of the catfish myth that he had thought up when he was little. That old catfish, flopping about in the ocean and causing his earthquakes. What could he say? The catfish had never flopped as badly as it had today.

And after what seemed to be an eternity, the shaking died down. Still trembling, Kiku stepped out towards the window, looking down at the chaos below. His heart wrenched – no Nation could survive this sort of natural disaster without losing at least one person – and his head spun. What was the death toll? What was going on?

His phone rang. Kiku picked up and flinched – the person on the other end was yelling.

"KIKU! ARE YOU FINE?" Arthur Kirkland hollered. "I'M SO SORRY! I HEARD ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AND MY QUEEN'S GOING TO SEND OVER A CONDOLENCE MESSAGE TO YOUR EMPEROR. I'M SO SORRY!"

"Arthur-san, there's no need to yell," Kiku mumbled in reply. "I'm…" he trailed off. What could he say?

Pain wracked his body. The death toll was rising.

"Are you okay?" Arthur's concerned voice asked from the other side. "Answer me!"

"I'm fine… for now." As fine as any Nation can be after surviving an 8.9 magnitude earthquake, that was. In retrospect, fine was probably overstating. It was the worst earthquake he had ever experienced, after all.

"I don't think so," the Briton replied, his voice drenched with worry. "That earthquake's bound to –"

But Kiku never heard the rest.

"…The official death toll stands at 184, but figures are expected to rise to a predicted over 1,000…" Kiku listened to the radio as he gradually returned to consciousness. "… Fukushima Prefecture has been seriously hit by the tsunami, and evacuation orders are being issued to those who live near the Fukushima Daiichi power plant. 1,800 homes were wiped away by the floods when a dam in that same prefecture failed…"

"Kiku, are you all right?" Alfred F. Jones's voice resounded from somewhere to his left. The anxious American's face appeared in Kiku's vision moments later. "Come on, man, tell me!"

"I'm fine…" Kiku mumbled, feeling the exact opposite as he continued to listen to the radio.

"…Extensive fires in Miyagi Prefecture… an oil refinery is burning in Chiba Prefecture… thousands of people are missing, according to the Kyodo News Agency…"

"I'm so sorry," Arthur's voice added, to Kiku's right. "Alfred and I are going to help you, if you need it. You know that, right?"

Kiku could barely nod, as he felt the tears start to well up. It had been years since he let down his guard like this to his friends. Years…

"…U.S. Geological Survey reports that the epicentre of the main quake was off Miyagi Prefecture, and aftershocks are still being felt... train derailed in Miyagi… Banri Kaieda reports that a small radiation leak might occur…"

"We're all going to help," Ludwig Beilschmidt's voice said from somewhere else; Kiku couldn't tell where.

"You're in our prayers, Kiku," Feliciano Vargas added.

"…U.S. National Weather Service reports that fifty countries and territories are at risk of being affected by the earthquake…"

What was the time? Kiku had no desire to know. Time meant nothing to destruction, after all. Kiku twitched again, once, twice. Someone grabbed his hand, stroking gently.

And what of all the people? The pain was still there in his heart. His people were dying – little children and old men alike. Who would be there to recover their bodies? Would he, Kiku Honda, recognise any of them?

He thought of his home. Did he even have a home to return to? The radio said that over a thousand homes had been destroyed. His could have been one of them. He could be displaced, like so many of his people.

And still, the pain wore on. They must have uncovered more bodies somewhere… Kiku felt a tear trickle down his cheek at that. Nothing pained a Nation more than losing his or her people.

"And now, let us have a moment of silence for those people who have died in Japan." The radio fell silent.

Kiku closed his eyes.

This was written in memory of those who have died, and for those who are suffering.

Think of Japan. Keep its people in your prayers.

Fold a paper crane in remembrance.