Kagome left the morning after her fever broke and didn't return for years, totally disrupting Kiku's world. It wasn't like when she'd visited other countries in the past. This time, he didn't have a clue where she was or how long she'd be gone. She was no longer on any of his land, the brief flickers of her power only coming from her younger self. He hadn't realized how much of his life included her. How entrenched she was in every aspect of it. There was no place he didn't feel her absence, didn't have a gaping hole where she should be.

"Where's Kagome?" everyone seemed to ask wherever he went, as if he never appeared without her.

He lost track of how many times he turned to speak to her, only to remember she wasn't there. Her scent was fading from her room, and Kiku found himself staring at his paintings of her more often than not. Her life as an immortal could be traced through those paintings; from their meeting, to the last one he'd done. Looking at the more recent ones, Kiku noticed that her smile had begun stopping before it reached her eyes. And between one painting and the next, that smile became sad. He hadn't realized as he'd been painting them.

Holding the neck of a nondescript bottle, Kiku stared around the room at his art…at his friend. So many colors, she'd said. Taking a drink of the bottle, he nearly gave a hysterical laugh when he noticed that the colors he'd used on the recent portraits were much more somber than his earlier portraits of her.

"Dude, did you do all of these?" an awed voice broke in behind him.

Kiku closed his eyes and drank from his bottle again. "Please leave," he rasped, the alcohol having burned his throat until nothing but numbness was left. He hoped it'd work on his heart, if he consumed enough.

Alfred came up beside him and shot him a troubled glance. "Why haven't you gone after her?"

"I don't know where she is. And these are so paltry compared to her," he whispered pitifully, fingers tightening on the smooth glass in his hand. "You shouldn't be looking at them."

"Well, I've always thought it was weird that you never drew your best friend," Alfred admitted, for once complying and not focusing on the art. "I guess you just don't share the ones you do of her."

He didn't. Kiku's drawings and paintings of Kagome always felt too personal to expose to the world. He hadn't even showed them to her until she'd stumbled upon them.

"She said she didn't care if I painted her or drew dōjinshi of her as long as I didn't show them to anyone."

Alfred arched a brow as Kiku drank again. "That's the sex stuff you draw about everyone, right?"

Kiku nodded, too miserable to be embarrassed or to clarify exactly what the art was.

"Who'd you draw her with?"

That had Kiku blushing through the haze the alcohol was providing. Alfred narrowed his eyes at him.

"Dude, you've drawn all of us in various degrees of obscenity. Even Arthur just huffs now and pretends the ones of him don't exist. Surely Kagome would have gotten over you putting her with whoever you did."

Downing the rest of the bottle, Kiku swayed and shook his head. "She didn't look at them."

Understanding lit in Alfred's eyes-understanding and compassion. "Maybe Kagome didn't want to see evidence of your lack of romantic feelings like that."

Bewildered, Kiku looked at him blearily. "What?"

The taller nation shrugged. "Think about it, dude. If you loved her, you'd probably have a problem drawing her with someone else. How would she feel if she'd looked and saw that you'd drawn her going down on-I dunno-Prussia or somebody? It'd be like the ultimate 'I don't care who you fuck' card. Like you were encouraging it."

"But, I didn't," Kiku protested, his muddled mind wondering why Alfred had chosen that nation and if he'd missed something over the years.

Alfred crossed his arms. "Uh-huh."

"No! I didn't draw her with anyone else!" he exclaimed, waving the empty bottle in the air for good measure.

Blinking, Alfred lost his defensive stance. "Anyone else? You drew her with you?"

Feeling his face heat and his stomach roll, Kiku slumped to the ground. "She is so pure I shouldn't have drawn her at all like that," he muttered, head on knees.

Letting out a disbelieving scoff, Alfred crouched next to his distraught friend. "I told you that she's in love with you. You should have shown her the drawings, Kiku. I don't know what kind of shit she's dealing with besides that, but a woman is a woman and no female wants to be left to guess if her feelings are returned or not. Maybe you should dredge up some of that katana-wielding ferocity you keep locked away and give her what you both want."

He pulled the bottle away from Kiku's grip.

"Because, dude, if the state you're in is any indication, you are totally in love with her, too."

Patting his shoulder, Alfred left. Kiku listed to the side and wondered if the western nation was right.