Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, and I make no profit out of it.
Warnings: none, though I apologise if there are any remaining spelling or grammatical errors in this.
A/N: ...And now some part of me wants to write a series of one-shots/drabbles in which Japan tries to win against a kitten who refuses to give back a piece of string. I honestly have no idea as to why.
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Serenity
The kitten watched the string before it with clear eyes – it swung innocently; left, right, left – though it seemed unwilling to make another jump for it, former enthusiasm long since quashed. Japan could not fault it, after half an hour of failed attempts, though he knew there was no one to blame but himself.
Even so, the fact that he had spent so much time doing little else should have worried Japan more. He still have a list of chores that had been placed on hold, but as the kitten pounced, intent clear, he could only tug the string back before it could be caught; a completely reflexive action on his part, and it mewed in irritation at the loss.
"Perhaps you should let her win, just once?"
Japan glanced around (tugged the string out of the way once more) as Greece moved to take a seat next to him by the kotatsu. At an instant, he was swarmed by his cats, as they clambered up onto his shoulders, the top of his head, and into his lap.
Suppressing a smile at the sight, Japan turned his attention back onto the kitten; "It would be a rather hollow victory, though, if I were to allow it."
"I don't think she would care, at this point," Greece replied.
Tug, tug, another meow in protest, and he shook his head, "But I cannot just do that. If we were to be handed something without any effort on our part, nothing would be truly gained."
It was foolish, Japan knew, to speak as if the matter was something serious; it was just a game, in the end. But some part of him simply refused to allow the kitten a free pass to victory, unwilling to back out until one side finally forfeited.
"Japan."
"Hm?" His eyes narrowed slightly as he pulled the string out of the way again, only to yelp when something heavy landed on his head. With his free hand, Japan could only poke at the object, earning a meow in reply. It took him a moment to work out what had just happened.
He turned slowly, to avoid dislodging the cat on his head, and gave his guest a confused look; "Greece-san, what-?"
Most of the cats had been shooed away, leaving Greece cat-less as he tilted his head a fraction, sliding closer; Japan moved back instinctively (the kitten pounced again, missing the string by millimetres).
"But it's still just a game, isn't it?" the brunet asked, as if for clarification, one finger tapping a steady beat against the table.
"I… suppose." Japan watched his guest carefully, unsure of which direction their conversation was currently headed. While chances were that it would remain confusing at best, he could not help but recall rarer moments better left in the depths of one's mind. "But just because one may be seen to have a disadvantage does not mean I should merely-"
As he spoke, the kitten grabbed the string; with victory in sight, she streaked out the open door and into the garden. Japan blinked as he watched the escape, taking the moment to pull the cat off his head (though it seemed unwilling to let go) and then turned to stare back at Greece, who smiled in reply.
"That was rather unfair, you know," he finally managed, "to have three against one." It was difficult to take the situation seriously, though – near impossible, in fact – and he could not help but smile as he turned away, depositing the cat into Greece's lap as he did so.
They didn't speak, as Japan stared resolutely out at the garden, while Greece held a telepathic conversation with the cat; rather, there was no particular need to, as they enjoyed the mere presence of the other's company. It did not take long for some of the cats to return, and they crawled back into laps, seeking attention, while the steady tick-tock-tick of a clock could be heard over the murmur of life outside.
As the sky darkened, Japan could only lace his fingers together as he watched a couple more cats gather together, even as Greece broke the silence, tone thoughtful; "You didn't really lose anything, though."
"Aside from a piece of string? I guess not," Japan nodded in agreement, while the other moved so that they sat side by side. It had all been in harmless fun, after all, and something he had initiated himself; since he had lost, all that could be done now was to accept the defeat with a certain amount of grace. There was no particular reason to see it in any other way.
Even as a small part of him agreed with the thought, Japan was momentarily distracted when he felt Greece tug his sleeve lightly, just enough to be acknowledged. Turning to give the other a questioning look, the island nation barely had time to catch his balance as he was pulled to his feet.
Verbal protests fell on deaf ears, as half-formed questions died mid-sentence once Japan worked out what was going on. Shaking free from the other nation's grip – face burning a little when his action received a vague tilt of the head, question obvious – he walked alongside the other as they stepped outside, entering the garden.
It was a cloudy night, moon obscured, and Japan could only watch as his guest seemed to seek out each star that could be seen. He stopped when Greece did, turning to look out before their eyes could meet; he caught sight of the kitten, who paused mid-step, string in mouth, before slinking off into the shadows once more.
"Japan?" Voice low enough that he could easily just imagined it, though he had never been one to toy with his own selfish delusions.
But when Greece moved to take his hand, Japan made no attempt to pull away, though the urge to chase after the kitten seemed like a viable option (and completely sensible, as far as he was concerned). Instead, he tugged the other along with him, following the stone pathway before them. Muted conversation about the stars, gods from a time long ago, and humanity itself broke the stillness of the night as they continued on, content to remain the way they were.