A/N: Ahaha. Both Canada and Mexico are ninjas. Only Mexico is a ninja on purpose. x3

Please review! 3

Canada stumbled forward again, the scale, with the still-folded clothing on it, in his arms. "He was lying," he mumbled angrily. "This thing is heavy…" He sighed. "Well, by the time I get there, America should be out eating lunch… So maybe this won't be so bad…" He shuffled forward.

"Well, I made it…" Canada looked over America's house, allowing himself to set the scale down for a moment. "But how am I going to get in?" He put his hand on the doorknob and experimentally started to turn it. "After all, there's no way he'd just leave it unlock—" Canada yelped as the door, on which he was putting his weight, opened suddenly. He tumbled over, bonking his head on the carpet.

"Ow…" He stood up and looked around. The lights were off inside, but the bright daylight coming in through the open door was enough for Canada to see.

"I guess he isn't home, then. That's good," Canada mumbled, picking up the scale and clothes again and padding into the house. He shut the door behind him quietly.

As he tiptoed through the living room, Canada noticed a light from around the corner. "He's not home, is he?" Canada snuck over to the corner and peeked over it. It was the kitchen, and someone was eating there.

It wasn't America, though; in fact, it was someone Canada had only seen running about the North American neighborhood. Her name was Mexico.

She had dark skin, a long, black braid running down her back, and brown eyes. She was wearing a simple, black tank top and a flowing, colorful skirt that only reached her mid-thigh.

But she seemed to be paying enough attention to her meal to not notice Canada. "Works for me," he mumbled almost silently, slinking past the kitchen doorway.

"And America's room is this way, I think," he said to himself, recalling the last time he had been to America's house. It had been America's birthday party, but, of course, no one seemed to realize Canada had been there…

Canada turned down one more of the hallways before finally reaching the bedroom. He shuffled inside, looking behind him for a few moments. "I really can't see in here… I'd like to turn the light on, but I'm afraid Mexico would find me…" He sighed. "I could probably find his closet in the dark, anyway, right?"

So Canada tiptoed around the room, feeling the formless, rough bumps on the wall until his fingers met wood. "Here, this must it," he sighed in relief, trying to find a doorknob. He found one, and opened the door. To his surprise, a dim light from inside clicked on, just managing to illuminate the few hangers of clothing the closet held. "All right!" Canada responded happily, setting the scale down and unfolding the two-sizes-too-small clothing. He peeked around the corner one more time, but neither Mexico nor America was anywhere in sight.

Canada slung the last of America's real clothing over his shoulder, but hesitated to close the door. He looked behind him, to see if he could make anything out, but the closet light didn't reach an inch past his feet. He sighed, closing the door and blinking to get used to the darkness again. He waved his hand around until he bumped into the top of the scale. He grabbed it and looked around, but couldn't make out anything.

"I guess I'll have to turn the lights on after all," he whispered, letting go of the scale and fumbling over to where he knew the light switch would be. He held his breath and turned the lights on.

Though instantly blinding him, the light started to tone down after a few moments, and Canada looked around, squinting.

"How am I supposed to figure out where the scale goes, though?" he muttered, scanning the cluttered room. A small strip of paper on one of the rare empty spots of wall caught his eye. "…Huh?" He walked over.

"Scale goes here!" the paper read in large, Sharpie-black letters. "Why in the world would America do that…?" Canada mumbled. "Is he onto us?"

The odd B-movie finally scrolled its credits, and Japan turned off his television, wondering why he had wasted the time to watch it, despite his companion.

"America?" Japan started, tapping the shoulder of the other person on the couch, who was huddled over. America didn't respond.

"…Were you really that scared?" Japan asked.

"Huh? No, of course not!" America screeched quickly, sitting up.

"Then what…?"

America held up a couple of strips of paper and a Sharpie. "I'm going to make sure this doesn't happen to me!"

"America, I don't think there are really memory-eating monsters… At least not like th—"

"Sure, that's what they all say!" America exclaimed, turning back to his papers. "And then—wham! They can't remember anything!" He only paused long enough to hear Japan sigh. "I'm going to label the places of everything in my house," he continued, scribbling something on one of the papers, "so it won't matter if I can't remember where everything goes!"

"All right…"

Canada shrugged, going back to fetch the scale and putting it where the label told him to. "Well, I guess I'm done, then. Let's get out of here before I get caught." He tiptoed back to the light switch, turned out the lights, and walked back out of the room.

"I really can't see in this darkness," he muttered, sliding a hand along the wall next to him. "And with all the junk America has lying around, I'm surprised—" He cut off as his hand bumped hard into something, sending it crashing down to the floor. He stared, bug-eyed, at the darkness near his feet. "Oh, no!" he whimpered. "This wasn't supposed to—"

"You're not America."

Canada yelped as the hallway light turned on and he found himself looking at Mexico.

"Um, no, I'm not," he stuttered, stepping back from the floored big-mouth trout and its shattered backdrop. He looked down at it nervously.

Mexico shrugged. "All right. I was just afraid he came back early. You're, uh, Canada, right?"

Canada nodded slowly.

"Well, nice to meet you, I guess." Mexico looked back toward the front door. "But how in the world did you get past the alarm?"

"Alarm…?" Canada echoed. "There wasn't an alarm…"

"Oh, you went through the window? That's what I do."

"Um, no, I just went through the front door…"

"Well, I set the alarm myself," Mexico snorted. "I know it was on."

"Um, okay?"

"Guess it just didn't notice you." Mexico looked toward the fish on the ground. "You should probably clean that up."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so…" He stooped over, picked up the fish, and walked it over near the front door, where it would be out of the way.

The door creaked. "Canada!" Italy called loudly. "How is everything going?" There was a short beep.

"Oh, crap!" Mexico hissed through her teeth.

"Huh? What?" Canada responded. "What's going on?"

"He set off the alarm!" Mexico responded. "I'm getting out of here!"

"Wait, what happens when it goes off?" Canada started, giving up when Mexico vanished from sight.

"So did you finish, Cana—" Italy was cut off by an ear-splitting screech.

"Aah!" Canada covered his ears as his glasses started to fracture.

"What's going o—" Italy started, his voice drowned out by a sudden bout of gunfire. He screamed, running in circles to avoid the bullets that only seemed intent on destroying him.

"Let's get out of here!" Canada cried, starting for the door but interrupted by a sudden wave of a laser beam. He jumped back, seeing more form, their ominous red light chasing down Italy.

"Italy! Come on!" Canada announced as the laser beams died down. Not waiting for the tearful Italy to catch up, he bolted for the door. "Eh?" His foot hit something metallic underneath, and he looked back to check it out. "A land mine? It doesn't look like it's gone off, at least…"

"Canada! Wait for me!" Italy bawled, speeding toward the door in the same path Canada took.

"Italy, wait—!" Canada gaped as Italy stomped on the mine.

"Huh?" Italy stopped to turn around.

"Run!" Canada exclaimed, dashing out the door moments before the explosion.

"Italy?" Canada started softly, brushing some ash off his sleeve.

"Uh-huh?"

"That was really stupid."

"Uh-huh…"