Ah, Greece. Well, the good news is that the government didn't collapse. The bad news is that everyone's mad about it. Sigh.

Today's article is "U.S., Japan Postpone Plan to Shut Marine Base" by Nathan Hodge.

Still posting it here, not on Hima's blog. I'm not even that good at kanji yet.


"I believe we should wait before we make a decision about the new military base," Japan admitted collectedly. Then, with a motion to his bandaged shoulder: "I have . . . bigger fish to fly."

"Dude, you're totally right. I'm broke." America hopped onto Japan's bed and stratched behind Pochi's ears.

Japan sighed and sat down next to him. He'd just gotten out of the hospital. He had Band-Aids all over his torso instead of bandage tape, but his shoulder was still enclosed in gauze. He was constantly in and out of a local health clinic. He remembered a quote from one of America's movies: "There's always a bigger fish."

"I think Okinawa hates me," said America. "I think he called me 'loud, and obnoxiously rowdy,' but I couldn't hear him. I was listening to my iPod. Does Okinawa hate me?"

"No, Okinawa does not hate you. He considers you a necessary evil." Japan smiled a little despite himself. America taxed his (and Okinawa's) nerves when he used his military base like a summer home, but he knew America was only trying to help.

"Hey!" America cried mock-indignantly, playfully punching Japan on the shoulder. Except it hurt. The smaller nation inhaled sharply.

America shot up and rubbed Japan's back. "Dude, are you okay? I'm really sorry. You want some ice, or-"

Japan shook his head, the pain fading. "I'm fine. It's all light, thank you."

Pochi jumped off the bed, so America let him out of the bedroom. Leaning against the sliding door, he asked, "So what does it look like now?"

"Does what?"

"The injury. Can I see it?"

Japan twitched. "Ah, well, the doctor says I shouldn't keep it uncovered for long-" (A lie.)

"Dude, it'll take, like, five seconds. I just want to see the bandages or whatever. Come on, pleeeease?"

"It's cold, and it takes time to remove traditional Japanese clothes-" (Though it was quite warm indeed, and he was wearing a simple yukata.)

"Japan. Seriously, no homo, but I'll help you take off your shirt. Pretty please, with wasabi on top?"

The island nation sighed. "If you insist. And no, I can help myself." Slowly, and with some difficulty, he slipped the top of the yukata over his shoulders.

The blond nation was more silent than Japan had seen him in a long time. His eyes traced over his left shoulder, then the Band-Aids that ended at about the top of his stomach. Finally America's eyes met his. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. しょうがなかった。I just need time. Berarus and Ukraine are normal now, aren't they?"

America shrugged. "I guess. Those pictures seriously freaked me out, though. Radiation ain't pretty."

Japan nodded, replacing the yukata's fabric to his shoulders. "I agree."

"But, the point is, that's why I need to protect you and be all heroic! And then that Commie Juche piggy North Korea can just try to be a villain when I Falcon Punch him like a boss until he can't even digest his own self- pity! Hahahaha!"

The abrupt shift in character caught Japan off guard. America amazed him sometimes. "I believe, especially in a time of vulnerability like this, and with Asia in unrest, it will be crucial for our military alliance to be maintained."

"Exactly! We're friends forever! Aren't we, Japan-chan?"

"J- Japan-chan?" the Asian sputtered.

"Oh, good, I got the particle thingy right! Awesomeness!" America was certainly being America. "Hey, so I was thinking we should go to a sushi bar later and totally rock out at carryokey! Whaddya say? Comeoncomeoncomeon!"

This youngster, Japan thought. "Err."

"Cool, you're coming! Muchas gracias, amigo! See ya in ten!" He zipped downstairs.

Well, he supposed he was going. Japan glanced down at himself and decided that this yukata was nice enough to wear out on the town.

No matter how long I spend with him, I will never understand him completely.


Yay for confusing Westerners! I'm a Californian, so of course "Like" is my verbal tic (as well as "totally," but that one sounds lame now so I'm trying to break the habit of sounding like Poland). I was telling my friend, "You know, I think we say 'like' a lot more than we think we do." Her reply? The priceless "Yeah. We, like, really say it a lot, like huh." (We both have dark hair and straight As, so it's not just the valley girls.)