A/N: And it turns out that it doesn't fit in one chapter! Utterly splendid. :P Well, if the cut between chapters 4 and 5 is a bit awkward, I'm sorry, because I couldn't find a better place to cut it. ._.

And one RL friend of mine asked my why the nuclear thing was not involved. If you're wondering the same thing...Don't you think we're making Kiku suffer enough? D: Well. Enjoy; I don't own Hetalia, as always.

The day had been hard, at its nicest. The group of seven had spent it "searching" around the ravaged area (none of them really looked; it just seemed so futile), trying to bring up "friendly" conversations with locals (which were not very happy; some even ended up in tears on the victims' part) and "discussing" about where they would stay (it undoubtedly wouldn't be easy to find a hotel).

Eventually, the sun sank. The ocean should have looked beautiful in the glimmering rays of sundown, but the waves had swallowed up garbage in mounds, and the sunlight just created an even more revolting illusion on the discarded scraps of junk littering the water.

Francis took one last disgusted look at the scene before turning to the others, who now loitered around the refuge area after a fruitless search. "I think we should be heading out by now. I don't want to stay in this…miserable place all night."

"Yeah, I guess so." Yao still looked down, his hopes completely extinguished once again. "But we'll have a pretty difficult time finding somewhere to stay for the night…"

"Well, maybe we should try." Arthur's voice was flat as he stood from the bench he sat on. Wordlessly, the friends stalked quietly out of the observatory, with Feliciano taking one last worried look at the hungry refugees before clumsily catching up with the rest.

In a span of a few moments, they were walking on concrete again, no longer on sodden sand, much to Francis' relief. The city, as ruined as it was, still brought a little comfort, despite the broken windows and seemingly fruitless repairs. A majority of the shops were closed, and among those that were open, only the supermarket seemed to have good business. Perhaps a little too good, with every shelf seemingly devoid of content.

When they finally came across a hotel, it was already dark. It was not a very fancy place—just passable enough. They were lucky they found one that nice, in fact, when many of the inns and hotels had shut down for repairs…some, for good. The rest were being used as refuge areas, and definitely didn't have enough room for seven foreigners to stay over for a night or two.

"Here; I got our keys." Ludwig walked over to the others from the modest reception desk, a set of keys dangling from his fingers. The German distributed them, muttering, "Japan is in a really bad state, isn't it…?"

For a moment, silence was the only reply, before Alfred admitted in an unusually bland manner, "I'm worried. Kiku, do you think he…"

"Ehh? Don't say it!" Feliciano's hand shook as he gripped the room key. Dismay was written all over his face. "It can't happen! There's no way!" He looked incredibly terrified, typical of the cowardly Feliciano, but the others had to admit to themselves that this time, he had a reason to be. No one had to mention that one possibility, because everyone knew what it was.

Ivan frowned deeply, disliking it himself, but they just couldn't hope forever. Someday, they'd have to face the truth, whether it meant Kiku had survived…or not. "But it's possible, da? Like Ludwig said, Japan is in a bad state, and among the thousands of people dead or missing—"

"No!" snapped Feliciano. He took a nervous step back, the rest of his friends either looking down in light of the chances or watching him sadly. "We'll find him tomorrow! We'll find him tomorrow…I swear!"

And with a shaky "humph" of sheer denial, the Italian ran to his room, not caring if he forgot to ask where it was.

/

"Kiku! Kikuuuuuu!"

"Please. Can you make him shut up?" hissed Arthur testily to Ludwig. It hadn't been a very luxurious morning, with Feliciano somehow miraculously managing to find everyone's rooms and drag them off to find Kiku at four in the morning. At the moment, the sleep-deprived group was headed back to the ex-beach resort. "I think he's overreacting."

"I'm sure he's overreacting," sighed Ludwig with a hint of resignation, pushing back his blond hair (which he didn't even have enough time to gel in Feliciano's persistence). "Feliciano never wakes up this early." He managed a reluctant pause before he added, "Besides, I don't think Kiku…"

"Don't say it." Apparently, Yao had been listening in on the conversation. He himself looked exhausted, as if he didn't get any sleep at all…like he had spent the night worrying. He rubbed his eyes as he yawned, "You'll get him more upset than he already is."

"But Yao, what do you think?" Arthur looked at the Chinese seriously, Feliciano's calls persisting in the background.

He blinked, suddenly awake. "…What?"

"What do you think?" Arthur repeated. "Do you think Kiku is…um, not here with us anymore?"

Yao stopped walking, and for a moment Arthur and Ludwig were worried they had lost him to something more gripping than their conversation. Finally, he stifled a bitter, humorless laugh and mumbled, "Well, he's certainly not standing beside you, is he? Come on. We have a crazed Italian to go after."

Before either could comment on the odd encounter, Yao walked ahead, wordlessly leaving Arthur and Ludwig to their private talk. They tried to catch his expression, but Yao took care not to reveal it, and they could only watch as he walked, ponytail swishing behind him.

There was silence for a moment, yet another awkward soundless span of time to add to the formidable collection they had created in the past few days. Finally, Arthur said blankly, "I think he's in denial, too."

Ludwig shook his head. "We all are."

Until the sun was up and the group was beginning to worry about breakfast, the seven retraced their steps around the whole strip of sand, no one daring to complain and get Feliciano even more fired up. This time, they really were just tagalongs to Feliciano's frantic search. No one seemed to have the stomach for it anymore, at least not after the previous night. After all, could a simple group of seven friends from a few different countries really spot something that a huge professional search team from all over the world had missed?

The sun was high in the sky and even Feliciano was beginning to get tired when Francis just happened to take a short glance to the side, to a pile of rocky rubble that blocked the strip of sand halfway through, one that left the water the only way to get to the other side. They had walked pretty far down the seaside, several times over, too, but none had considered wading past the roadblock. After all, it seemed like it would lead you waist-deep into the salty waves, and it didn't seem too likely at the moment that something was on the other side. But with that short glance, Francis saw something.

He waved it off at first, but as the others turned back, deciding to call it a day, he saw it again. That unmistakable caramel blur…Was it…

"Hey…it's Pochi…!"