Chapter Nine: 10 Surprising Effects of Lack of Sleep

"Hi, Japan! How are you? Have you been getting some rest?"

"Ah, Italy-kun. Yes, I'm fine. And you're doing well, I hope?"

"I am, actually! I'm having a lot of fun, reading through England's old spell books."

"I see. Well, I'm glad—wait, what?"

"Lots of interesting things in here. Did you know that there are two separate spells to transform something into a toad and a frog?"

"Italy-kun, did you say England-san's spell books?"

"Aren't those two nearly the same thing?"

"England-san's spell books?"

"Yup! We went through sixteen already today; can you believe it? And I have one more to actually read thoroughly. Speaking of which, I need to get it done before I get sleepy. Bye, Japan!"

"Wait, what are you doing with Eng—"

Klonk.

=====o=====

The last time he had spoken to Italy alarmed Japan very much and he would have marched right out of the hospital and to the nation's house had Germany not needed to be guarded and had he not been drowning himself in caffeinated drinks the past few hours. Although a very persistent and tenacious fellow, Japan was no veteran when it came to several all-nighters in a row tending to an unstable patient and the exhaustion was taking its toll on both his mind and body.

Instead of being the sensible and alert person he was, he currently sat, a heaping, lethargic mess on the only stool in Germany's room; a stool he'd moved right in the corner next to the door so he had a wall to lean his head on. His eyes, his eyelids, his limbs, his back—everything was so heavy. Even just for a few minutes, he wanted to close his eyes and let sleep take him. But the last time that had happened, he had woken up with his face pressed against the floor. That wasn't about to happen again.

He had considered calling their other allies to help him keep Germany company—Bulgaria, perhaps—but decided against it. Although Germany wasn't there to fight, the war wouldn't stop and wait for him. Japan couldn't call Bulgaria in to take care of the patient while he rested. He had decided that this was his job and his alone.

But what was Italy up to? How did he become so happy in just a matter of hours? Why was he reading England's old spell books? That was what he really wanted to know. Last he checked, Italy was terrified of the Englishman; one mention of his name and Italy would break into a sprint and no one would be able to catch him.

And even worse, they were in war. Technically, England and Italy were enemies right now. But if he had England's books with him, that meant he had to be communicating with him somehow. Unless of course Italy stole them, but that happening was even more far-fetched than Italy conniving with England.

The words 'Italy conniving with England' caused Japan to involuntarily shudder. Once Germany woke up, he swore to himself, he would haul himself to Italy's house and demand to know what he'd been up to. If Italy wouldn't tell, he'd ask England himself. When Germany woke up. The second Germany woke up.

"Japan…?"

Japan blinked slowly, the weak and hoarse voice barely registering in his clouded mind, but he squinted and was met by Germany's blue eyes, looking right at him. In the haze that was currently his disorganized, drowsy thoughts, he failed to realize anything different with the scene. Had someone just called his voice?

He blinked again. Germany was looking at him. Someone had just called his name; someone with a weary voice, like it hadn't been used in days. Germany's eyes were open and they were looking at him.

Germany was awake.

Germany was awake.

"Germa—" he began to call, a tired yet extremely relieved smile settling on his face, before his eyes closed completely and then everything went blank.

=====o=====

"I see," Germany said. After Japan had inadvertently fallen asleep mid-sentence, Germany had prompted him to get up and he had retold the entire story. It was surprising to see Germany's face change and to hear his voice after so many days of seeing him asleep, but Japan was refreshed. A little. He was still exhausted. "I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble."

Japan smiled. "If you were listening, you'd know it's not your fault, Germany-san. Accidents happen and if anything, you were the victim. It was no trouble at all to stay here and supervise your recovery."

"Well, thank you for that, Japan. But where's Italy?"

"I-I'm afraid I don't know," Japan admitted, suddenly recalling his dread and worry that Italy was meeting with the enemy. "He called me a few…" Was it a few days ago? He was losing track of time, trapped inside this place. "Um, moments ago, but made no mention of where he was and what exactly he was up to."

Germany had on a curious face. "Then what did he call for?"

"To check on me, I suppose." Japan hesitated, wondered if he should tell Germany that Italy had been busy that night reading England's old spell books and had given no explanation. He didn't want to give the newly-awoken man a reason to throw a fit.

He still had to do something about it, though. He said he would visit Italy the moment Germany woke up, but now that he thought about it, he couldn't just leave. Germany was awake but it wasn't like he could care for himself. There wasn't any nurse that could keep an eye on him 24/7 either.

That was when the door burst open. Quite literally, burst, and collided with the wall, filling the room with an obnoxious explosive BANG. Behind it was the only other person besides America who could forget their manners inside a hospital, Prussia.

"Holy shit!" was the first thing he cried, and both Germany and Japan winced. "West!" Without giving decency any thought, he rushed to his brother's bedside. "Oh man, I knew you were awake. I could feel it in my bones! I rushed here as fast as I could. How are you?"

Exasperated, Germany stared at him. "I'd be better if you didn't barge in here, yelling profanities."

"What, you call that a profanity?" Prussia asked, the corners of his mouth rising to form a genuinely amused smile. He then laughed. "I'll show you profanity—"

"No, Prussia-san," Japan merely said.

"Hey, he asked for it," said Prussia, jerking his thumb towards Germany, who rolled his eyes, knowing very well he hadn't asked for anything in days. But Prussia was good at ignoring this sour attitude of Germany's, and he crossed his arms, unfazed. "So how long till you get out of here?"

"I don't know yet," Germany said, "I haven't seen the doctor."

Prussia blinked at him, and then at Japan. "You haven't told the doctor he's awake?" he asked, and snorted when Japan shook his head no. "Haven't you ever been to a hospital before? When a guy in a coma wakes up, the first thing you do is tell the doctor. Common sense."

"I had things I wanted to clear out first, Prussia. A…'guy' in a coma has the right to know that he's been in a coma."

"Prussia-san, have you seen Italy-kun lately?" Japan suddenly asked, knowing that this conversation would only lead to more of Prussia's confusing and rather loud arguments.

"No," said Prussia, and then he studied Japan. Down to every last attribute of his physical appearance. "Have you seen the light of the sun lately?"

Japan didn't need to check his reflection in the mirror to know he was making a very exasperated face, and coupled with dark circles under his eyes, that wasn't his prettiest expression. The Prussian and his sarcastic little comments weren't the best companions during stressful situations. But the last thing he wanted was to pick a fight. "I'll just need to look for him, then."

"What you need is some rest, Japan," Germany told him. "You've probably been here for days. Head home and gets some sleep. Whatever Italy is doing can wait; I'm sure it can't be that bad."

While Japan highly doubted that, he couldn't find it in himself to contradict his ally. He was in dire need of sleep and yet there was so much to take care of. At least Prussia was here now and although he wasn't reliable in the utmost sense of the word, he could be trusted when it came to his brother. But what of Italy?

Japan was sure—almost absolutely sure—that something completely twisted was happening with the nation. Something someone had to look into, and who could do it other than himself?

The feel of Germany's bed was great on his hand, though. His fingers twitched on it, his mind and body growing excited at the thought of experiencing the smoothness and softness of their own bed, at home. His eyelids highly anticipated the feeling of release, the feeling of finally and completely fluttering down after hour after hour of keeping themselves up. His neck and back were sore, too.

He gave Germany a gracious smile and a small bow. Whatever Italy really was doing, Japan just had to hope and trust that it wasn't too idiotic.

=====o=====

He had said that, but he still found his feet carrying him to Italy's house hours later, and then to England's house once he found out that Italy's only contained a very unpleasant Romano, raving about how his brother was missing-in-action. What Germany said was true: he definitely needed some shut-eye. But Japan knew he wasn't going to get it while Italy wandered off with England.

And so, as the good friend and responsible ally he was, he was looking into the situation. This would be his release, he decided. To know that Italy was fine and not jeopardizing their entire mission would be the greatest reward he'd get all week.

As he walked, Japan couldn't help but consider just how different the Italian brothers were. Northern Italy was a literal ball of sunshine who made pasta for everyone and Southern Italy was figuratively like a thug, casually chewing on tomatoes and spitting on passers-by. Japan had never really seen him happy and even earlier, as he inquired as to where Italy might be, all he received were profanities (much like the ones Prussia was probably about to demonstrate earlier) and non-obscene yelling.

And yet, even with that remarkable difference, they were also very much alike: talented runners, excellent cooks, charming when it came to ladies, and both terrified of serious battle.

How did Romano feel about the whole 'Italy bombing Germany' ordeal then? Japan knew Romano's relationship with Germany was far from friendly and it wouldn't be hard to believe if he was indifferent about the issue, but what if, just what if—and Japan prayed this would not happen in real life—Romano had done the same thing to Spain? Would he be like Italy, crying, guilty, completely scarred and self-deprecating? Or would he yell at himself like he did with other people who failed miserably?

The Asian was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not realize he was already nearing England's front lawn. This place held so many fond memories of his, from back when he and the Englishman still had that alliance, but that was a long time ago. Now he just couldn't believe he was about to knock on the front door.

He climbed the steps, noting how the front porch hadn't changed at all, save maybe for the addition of some new types of plants. Japan loved his own garden as much as the next guy but being in a culturally-different environment was also pleasurable in its own right. He rubbed his fingers along the petals of a corn poppy, completely at peace, momentarily forgetting his exhaustion.

But before he could knock on the front door, it burst open.

"JAPAN!" two loud voices screamed, and as Japan yelped and fell back on his bottom, he was surprised to see that it was both England and America rushing through the doorway, faces hysterical. They looked about as wrecked as he felt; pale skin, tussled hair, disheveled clothes—it was as if they had just come from a scuffle.

Well, Japan was definitely awake now. "England-san, America-san!" he cried, staring, wide-eyed, at the two of them. "I-is something the matter?"

For a second, Japan thought they were angry. He was from the enemy camp; what made him think he could just stroll on the porch so casually? He made a mental note to beat himself up for thinking so carelessly later.

But they weren't mad. In fact, America looked almost as ecstatic as he did when he came to express his gratitude to Italy at the hospital. "Aw man, I have never been happier to see you!" he cried, and Japan cringed, knowing this was how he started talking to Italy on that very day. "Could you help us with something, please? Pretty please? With…sake on top!"

"America, calm down!" said England, pushing the American out of the way. "We need to calmly explain this to Japan before we have him do anything."

"England, tell me you just saw and heard what I just saw and heard. Italy's out of control and we need to stop him as soon as possible!"

Japan started at the words 'Italy's out of control'. "Excuse me?" he said, puzzled. Did America just really say that? Perhaps it was his hearing. He was getting old, after all. "Did you just say that Italy is out of control?"

"Wait, Japan," said England, "let us explain."

"Italy is out of control?"

"Yes, Italy is out of control!" America practically yelled before pulling Japan to his feet. "See, this is what happened, and I'll give you the short version. Italy got upset and England offered to use his magic to travel back in time so that Italy could check out his failures or something—"

"What?" Japan cried. The story wasn't even half over and already he found three questionable parts of it. "Magic for time travel? Is that even possible? And why would you even help Italy out? We're enemies. And if you wanted to help him, why would you show him his failures—"

England took a deep, distressed breath and placed both his hands on Japan's shoulders. "Japan, please keep an open mind and save the questions for later; this won't be an easy tale to tell," he said, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. "I accidentally offered to help him so we searched for and found a time travel spell to bring us to the past and help him learn from his mistakes. But by some stroke of horrible luck, we landed on the day that Italy had set the grenade on Germany and he had attempted to stop it from happening, creating a—a—" He made a face. "Basically he's technically become a part of the past and he's currently still in the vortex now."

"So we try and find him, right?" America continued, and the atmosphere just became all the more tense with how rapidly the words were hurled out of his mouth. "And after so long, we actually find him and it was a miracle but then when we tried to take him back, we found out he's been giving his past self advice so England got mad and then Italy got mad and then he did some wizard mumbo jumbo and these weird sparkly things surrounded us and forced us back to the present! And we tried to go back in but then Italy has control over the sparkles now and he won't let us back so England tried to appeal to his conscience or whatever through the circle, but Italy still won't listen and we don't know what he's changing so you should take a crack at it, Japan, maybe he'll listen to you!"

America had said all this in the span of ten seconds but surprisingly, Japan was able to pick it all up and piece it together—every last word. Italy had gotten so upset that he actually resorted to magic—England's magic—to help him feel better? And he wasn't contented with that...he had actually gave himself advice, to stop himself from screwing up, just so he wouldn't harm Germany? And he was still there, refusing to come back?

Japan had experienced many terrible things in his life. There were wars, massacres, things he couldn't believe he had done because they were awful, inhumane, demonic; things that had been done to him that he didn't know he'd ever be able to rise from because it was so painful and difficult. Whenever he recalled those memories, it would get hard to breathe.

But now, as every detail of the predicament sank in, Japan found it wasn't hard to breathe. He found that he actually couldn't. Italy somehow had been conniving with the enemy, but only for his own purposes, and had performed atrocities within a realm in which they had no control over. He had been considering the possibility of there being a machine that could traverse time and space for a while now, but the possible consequences of such an ability always left him to sit back down and rethink his choices.

It was possible after all. It was happening. Japan couldn't believe he didn't see this coming. He should have known something horrific was taking place the moment Italy told him he was reading England's spell books. He should never have left the confused little nation alone in his weakest moments. He should never have let America enter the hospital. He should never have let the Italy bomb Germany.

And now he was messing with time. Italy was messing with time. Italy was messing with time. Italy was messing with time.

"Japan? Japan!"

Suddenly he was on the floor again.

=====o=====

When he woke up for the second time that day, Japan was on a bed. It was a very nice bed—soft, with the right amount of bounce and the perfect, smooth texture. The pillow was great too, just the right height and thickness, and even width. He wished he'd gone to bed sooner. It was heavenly.

But as he slowly attempted to focus his vision, he remembered how he had come to a bed in the first place. The details were rather hazy, but he knew it was something bad. Really bad. And it involved England and America.

Sure enough, as he surveyed the room (which was probably England's, now that he thought about it) he found the two aforementioned men, America half-heartedly staring at a book and England on the opposite side of the room, rubbing his temple. It was surreal to see the two of them in the same room and at the same time, hear no yelling whatsoever. He supposed desperate times caused drastic changes.

He caught England's attention as he sat up. "Oh, you're awake," England said, his voice soft and very much tired. "How are you feeling?"

Japan was feeling better. Really, he was—a million times better than he had been when he left Germany in Prussia's care earlier that day, in fact. But when he tried to speak, no words would come. His chest was still feeling rather heavy and his throat seemed too choked up to come up with a coherent sound. He was light-headed too; light as a feather.

Thankfully, England did not press the question. "You look rested, I suppose," he said, "though I guess it's still a bit hard for you to speak. We really thought you were going to be sick, Japan. You had something akin to a panic attack that I can't really explain myself and you just lost consciousness midway."

So that was what happened, Japan thought, and he looked to America. He was still looking at the book, almost pouting, but he did not appear to be reading at all.

"I guess it's our fault," England continued, and Japan turned to him again, but England's gaze was far out the window. "We were so eager to have you come help us that we didn't consider that you were exhausted. You've been staying at the hospital, right? We apologize deeply for that, Japan."

Japan shook his head before taking a deep breath. "There's no need to apologize," he said, his voice even softer than it was on regular days. He needed to steady his breathing if he wanted to free his chest and be able to talk properly. "I came here to find out what Italy was doing with your spell books and all you did was tell me. It's fine."

"You knew about Italy reading my spell books?" England asked, leaning against the wall, glad that Japan was at least able to speak again.

"He called me one night, saying he still had one more to read," said Japan, and he cleared his throat. This was probably the beginning of a terrible cold, he thought. "It alarmed me to say the least, but I couldn't actually do anything about it until Germany woke up."

England nodded, before giving America an expectant stare, and America himself sighed.

"Sorry, Japan," he said, much like a little child would if he were forced to apologize to a playmate he'd accidentally shoved into the sandbox. But Japan could still sense some sincerity in his words. "It was my fault you panicked. I was taking things too fast."

"It's alright, America; you do naturally speak fast," said Japan.

"Right?" America said, a little louder than his apology, and in that instant, his old cheery self was back. But that self left just as quickly as he came, once he had, again, exchanged glances with England. "Uh, anyway, I'm sorry, again. We'll just have to think of other ways to get Italy."

Something stirred inside Japan at the mention of finding a solution to Italy's problem. It was that feeling of anxiety again, something he felt when something was beyond his capability to achieve—like something big was coming and but he didn't know what it was or how to stop it. He closed his eyes shut and tried to calm down. He didn't want to faint again.

"America, we'll discuss it outside," England said quickly, sensing Japan was getting uncomfortable. "Come on. Let Japan have some more time to rest."

Wordlessly, America got up, shoved the book back in England's bookshelf and followed after.

=====o=====

America was expecting England to retreat all the way back to the basement where the circle was, but they didn't go far. The two of them simply stood outside England's bedroom door, crossing their arms, and leaning against the wall, probably waiting for the other to start brainstorming.

This was probably one of the most taxing events America had ever had to go through, and that was saying something, what with all the wars and fighting he'd already taken part in. Not only was Italy going on a time traveling rampage without supervision, but England wasn't being any better. He could understand why Japan took it so horribly but he didn't think he'd be so heavily scolded for being overexcited and causing other people health problems. He was only trying to help.

The whole thing was taking its toll on the both of them. It wasn't extraordinary for the two of them to be having arguments and fights but rarely were these fights on a personal level. They were supposed to be about who slept during the meeting or who drew the amazing New York style pop art, not about why Japan had an attack or how England successfully made America feel so inadequate all the time.

But back to the matter at hand.

Italy was blind right now, America thought. His grief was fogging his mind, hindering him from thinking clearly. All of the nations, what with their long lives and extremely heavy decisions, would probably jump at the chance to travel to the past and fix their mistakes. Who wouldn't? But a sane person knew that that had a lot of bad side-effects tied to it.

Take England, for example. He knew, all these centuries, that time travel was possible through magic if he'd just searched his books well enough. And all those other nations with magic too. But they never tried it, because it wasn't right. Italy just had to be reminded that it wasn't right.

But how could they do that if he wouldn't listen?

"I get why he won't listen to us," America suddenly said, even though it was meant to stay in his thoughts. He shook his head and chose to carry on. "We're enemies. And not just that: I was the one who made him feel like an idiot in the hospital and you were the one who he thought he could trust. Japan has the greatest chance among all three of us, but…"

His voice trailed off, as if it was waiting for England to remind him how he was the one who had ruined that chance, but the Brit stayed quiet. America looked at him and couldn't tell if he was thinking or just staring at the ground, mourning something. The loss of his sanity, maybe. Or the abomination he called magic.

A little later, he hummed. "It would be more troublesome if we used more magic, huh?" England said, though it was more of to himself than to America. "I could easily have Norway or Romania draw another circle with their own type of magic, but that's a little risky. Creating two openings to space and time could cause a lot of trouble, especially if Italy manages to gain control over both of them."

Finally, he looked at America. "He could become supreme lord of the Universe, you know."

That was a terrible thing to say. America grimaced at him. "Stop bringing the mood down—or, lower than it already is," he protested. "Let's just think, okay? If he won't listen to us and Japan's too sick to help, who else is there?"

"Germany, obviously," England said, now frowning deeply too. "But, of course, he has to be in a coma."

"Then we'll get Italy's other friends," America suggested. "His brother, Spain, uhh, maybe France? They were kind of friends at one point in—"

He stopped. It was clear England wasn't listening again, too engrossed in his own opinions and ideas. America sighed. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered trying. England was a real jerk, desperately asking for his help and turning down everything he had to offer. One of these days, he was going to cut off any kind of attachment the two of them had and England would realize just how much he'd been taking for granted.

"America?" England said, and his expression looked bewildered and bewildered America at the same time. "Do you remember Japan saying something about Germany being awake?"

"Awake?" he repeated. "When?"

"Just now, before we left the room." The look was becoming more and more intense.

America shrugged. "I don't remember. Hold on."

He reopened the door and stuck his head in through the small opening, revealing Japan still seated on the bed. He looked up as America's head entered. "Hey, Japan, is Germany awake?" he asked.

"Yes, he is."

There was silence.

"He's awake?" America asked again, his face now becoming one like England's.

Japan blinked in confusion. "Yes."

There was silence again, and then America slammed the door. "He's awake!" he said as he turned to England. His eyes were large and his mouth didn't bother closing after he finished talking.

"He's awake?" England asked, facial features doing the exact same thing.

"He's awake."

There was silence again.

When Japan decided to stand and check on the two Westerners outside the bedroom, he found the hallway empty.

A/N: ONE YEAR. ONE FRICKLYFRACKLY YEAR. THAT WAS ONE, VERY INDEFINITE, ALMOST PERMANENT HIATUS and I am terribly sorry for that. To be honest, I kind of lost the inspiration keep writing, both for this fic and on this site. Lately, though, I was able to look back on it, and I saw a particular response I had to a reviewer and it said, "Don't worry; I never leave a story unfinished."

Which is why I'm here again, with a firm resolve, for good this time. So maybe nobody's here anymore, maybe no one's reading this fic, maybe there won't be any response after I post this chapter. But that's a thing of the past. No matter what happens, I WILL FINISH THIS THING. *a stage audience from the 1920s applaud in the background*

Also, special thanks to lovelydragonfly. You've helped me come to this realization, so thanks a lot! ୧(﹒︠ᴗ﹒︡)୨