Author's Note: Now that I've assigned on overall song for this fiction, I feel like I need to do one for The Rules—so I think I'll go with "Band on the Run." Ignore the fact that the captives aren't a band.

Also, my apologies to readers from countries with high death tolls. I promise I'm not angry with you. I'll be mildly upset if you don't review, of course, but I would never go out of my way to kill you for that... Of course not...

China

I've just clicked Russia's stovetop on when someone raps on the side of the doorway. With a sigh, I click the dial back off and walk within sight of the hallway. Japan is poised just outside the door.

"Come on in, aru," I say with a nod. "Did you want to help with supper?"

He pauses but nods, stepping into the kitchen. "It would be good to get my mind off things."

I turn the stove on again. "Things?"

"Yes." He exhales, walking over to wash his hands. "Keeping track of the numbers can become very disheartening."

"Ah."

He doesn't feel the need to elaborate, so I ask him to look for the flour as I walk to the refrigerator. I've only attempted making a meal once since I came to stay here, so I'm really not familiar with the layout. Who knows what Russia's doing right now, because he's not coming to help me figure this place out this time.

It's a hassle, but I really don't mind him not hanging around. He's a stalker enough when I'm not even at one of his own houses. But it's not like I have much of a choice as to staying here, and I bet he'd be happy to track me down to whatever hotel nearby I could try. Oh, why did the fateful meeting have to be on his land?

I pick out some ingredients for the sauce and look around the refrigerator door to see Japan finally pulling out the flour. Balancing tubs and boxes in my arms, I shut the door with my knee and set the things on the counter between him and the stove.

"Thanks, aru." I go back to pluck a few eggs and return. "Do you want to go ahead and do the noodles by yourself?"

He looks at the ingredients for a moment. "Why not?"

"All right. I think the bowls were over here..." Ducking under a counter, I open a low cupboard and take out a few bowls.

Japan is still looking at the flour blankly, tapping two fingers on the counter silently.

I set one of the bowls in front of him. "Would it help to talk about some of those 'things'?"

He sighs, cracking open an egg. "Perhaps." Putting his hands over a spare bowl, he starts to separate the yolk. "Things just continue to get worse on all accounts." He looks down. "Have you seen the death toll in Spain today?"

"No." I step to the sink with my bowl. "What is it, aru?"

"So far," he says, voice so quiet it's hard to make out the words, "the best estimate is about one million."

"One—!" My hand jerks the faucet the wrong way, and water hisses in a torrent that sprays my face before I shut it back off. "One mill..." Wiping off my face, I shake my head. "Is that even—possible?"

"It certainly wouldn't seem so." He puts in another yolk. "Even at the fast rate the disease has been spreading, this is by all means an unfeasible jump."

Not sure my tongue would work even if I had any idea what to make it say, I just shake my head and work on the sauce. I can see why Japan would rather cook than think about that. If nothing else, the steady rhythm of clacks as he beats the eggs is somewhat soothing.

"Do you think," he finally starts, pouring some water in, "Spain was killed on the island?"

"Probably, aru. The numbers sort of correspond to what's happened on the island, right?"

He walks back to his workstation, not looking at me. "Yes. That's what I thought as well." He locates the salt. "I called some of the other island-bound nations to see if any of them had made it home, but no one answered. England's assistant didn't pick up his phone, either."

He absently stirs his bowl.

"Bartholomew, right?" I try to catch his eye, but he just nods without looking up. "So, do we have any other way to check on him, aru? He's been missing for a little too long."

"We've tried his Facelook, but he hasn't responded there, either. Since the U.K. has been one of the hardest-hit countries so far, it's difficult to find out for sure if he was among the dead. For now, Germany has decided to establish Scotland as our main contact over there."

He stares at the bowl for a moment before taking the lid off the flour container and pouring some in carefully.

"Ah." I reach to get the salt from his part of the counter. "Are you done with this?"

I don't hear a response as he mechanically stirs his mixture.

"Japan, aru?"

His hand slows until he pulls it away, both his palms hitting the counter with his fingers clenched.

"If I had just thought it over, I could have made it off the island that first night," he says quietly, arms trembling. "Germany has fifty dead. I have 5,347 now."

His head is bowed enough his hair blocks his eyes. "How many of my people are dying because I never dared to consider I had to kill myself? How many—"

"Hey." I rest a hand on his shoulder. "Don't act like that was cowardice on your part, aru. I don't think any of us could say we tried half as hard as you to get off that island, and I bet you took your life without batting an eyelash once you figured it out."

The shaking in his arms quiets down, but his shoulder muscles are still far from relaxed.

"I..." He sighs. "I just wish I wasn't so foolish as to assume it couldn't be the case." His knuckles whiten. "Enough of my people have died from my thoughtless decisions already."

I squeeze his shoulder softly. "You're not the only one of us who feels that way, trust me, aru." A few past images threaten to flicker across my vision, but I don't let them.

He just takes a few deep breaths, and I let my hand fall.

"There's no going back now, aru. All we can do is push forward and work as hard as we can to correct it."

With one more long exhale, he straightens up and starts kneading the dough. I smile a little and get back to the sauce.

"So! What else have you been doing lately, aru?"

He thinks for a minute. "I finished a replay of one video game and cleaned the room I've been staying in here." Pulling his hands from the mixture, he walks to the sink to rinse them. "This place doesn't seem to be the most well-kept, so I may tidy up some of the others as well."

I nod, setting the salt back by him just in case. "Sounds fun, aru."

He nods, clearing off a space and looking for a rolling pin. With my help, it doesn't take quite so long to locate, but I think it might have an old blood splatter on it.

Again, why must I be in the house of the psychopath stalker...?

Thankfully, Japan finds a newer rolling pin that may still have been a murder weapon but at least isn't as obvious about it.

Okay, so I've used cooking utensils as murder weapons, too, but... It's different. At any rate, I can be assured I'm not having fun when I do so.

We get back to work in a silence that isn't quite as heavy as the last one. Japan has the noodles out to dry less than a minute before I've put all the ingredients in the sauce. Now we just have to wait a while. I wasn't planning on having help when I started. Well, I certainly don't mind.

Idly stirring the sauce, I lean back against the counter and look over at Japan. He's still below his normal leanness, but the bones beneath his skin have been getting less distinct. And if the amount of noodles he churned out for the two of us is any indication, he's definitely back to a healthy appetite.

About the same is true for me. I got back about three days after him, so I'm a little bit behind, but not much. I still don't understand how America got back to a normal weight so quickly. Sure, he eats a lot, but I don't exactly eat like a bird, and I could barely stand to eat as much as an egg roll my first day back. I'm about back to normal now, though the same can't quite be said about my weight or energy level.

I am recovering, though, and so is Japan. It's good to see the scars of the island fading, even if the memories won't stop pricking us so sharply for a while yet.

We watch the noodles like our gaze will make them dry faster. A few minutes in, a figure looms in the doorway. Even seeing it from the corner of my eye, its height doesn't allow many options.

"Oh—you're already making something?" Hands on the doorframe, Russia leans in a little bit, blinking.

"Yeah, aru." I look back at the bowl of sauce, still stirring. "I bought most of the ingredients, so I promise we're not eating you out of house and home right now."

"Oh, no, that's fine." He shifts a little. "I was just thinking, since so many of us are under my roof, I could host everybody together at a big dinner at least once."

I try not to shudder. He'd probably poison a couple of us, just for kicks. Or break out the rolling pin. "Well, we're already cooking this for us."

"O-okay." He smiles weakly. "Maybe tomorrow night, then?"

"We'll see," I say shortly, looking back at the noodles.

With a little nod, Russia waves and disappears into the hallway. Japan doesn't stop glowering at him until he's out of sight. With a sigh, my little brother then turns to look at the noodles again.

His breath catches just a second before his knees buckle. With a yelp, I drop the spoon and catch his shoulders before he can hit the ground. Taking in deep gasps, he clutches at his shirt, near the middle but a bit to his left.

"J-Japan! What—"

Squeezing his eyes, he shakes his head, cutting me off with a wave of the hand. I just frown, trying to help him back to his feet as he lowers his hand but still struggles for breath. Eventually his gasping slows down enough that he nudges me away and leans heavily on the counter.

"What's wrong, aru?" I start, probably before he's caught his breath enough to respond.

He rubs his chest one last time, shaking his head. "Sorry for worrying you." He clears his throat, standing up more. "It's just palpitations. They've been troubling me oh-so often since I came back."

He traces a circle on the counter with his finger. "They don't correspond to any national events, as far as I've found. It's just the aftermath of my last injury on the island."

Exhaling, I lean back against the counter. "Got yourself through the heart, huh?"

He nods, prodding at a noodle to make sure it's still not ready.

He's still having problems with that, though? I try to remember the last time I was stabbed through the heart, but nothing jumps to mind. It has to be weird in taking so long to properly heal, though.

There was that comment from Norway about our immortality not being completely restored... And he's not one of the guys that will go out of his way to say something. It makes some sort of sense, but... I really don't like thinking that I'm still vulnerable like that. That any of us are.

Still, it's only enough to make most of the healing take longer, right? Austria came back from a pretty bad state just fine. Then again, how did the rotting go away so fast if that's how the reduced immortality works?

Norway could have been mistaken. We could be totally back to normal right now.

But... There's still Japan's heart. And we don't really have a precedent for recovering from a rotting body because we never get that far, so even that technically could have been slowed down. And he could always have some other injury that hasn't healed quite so well.

I rub a finger on the side of my neck. There's still a little bit of raised flesh, but that's just the scar. The wound hasn't bled since I came back from it on the island. And scars naturally take a while to patch up, so... I could still be fine...

Honestly, I just don't want to think anything else. I've had enough of questioning my immortality.

With a sigh, I look over at the noodles to see Japan watching me. Or, watching my neck. He averts his gaze shortly after.

I smile a little. "Now, don't tell me you feel guilty about that, too, aru. I gave you permission and everything."

He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I suppose little harm was done in the end, if you think so."

Leaning his palms on the counter, he adds, "I've been trying to keep closer track of the death tolls to see if there may be spikes in order of our deaths. But the only significant one was Spain's today—" he pauses long enough to swallow—"and nothing special has happened with Hungary's people yet. So I have no reason to believe there is any other correlation with the events of the island than that which I have already found."

"Good." I give the sauce another whirl around the bowl. "So we just have to bring the others back from the island, and the worst will be over, aru."

"That is a reasonable conclusion."

I turn up the stovetop to start the water for the noodles boiling. "Do you think the magical approach is going to be a big help?"

He folds his arms loosely. "I hope so."

"Yeah." I exhale. "Me, too."