From then on I looked at England through a new light, one that I didn't fully understand myself. Maybe it was respect, maybe it was fear of being treated so horribly (I watched how he acted towards other colonies under his control; I never even saw Australia), but whatever it was, I did what I was told and never talked back. I always spoke English, even when muttering to myself in pain, anger, self-pity, whatever arose.

What China had taught me was all but forgotten.

That's what made what I heard on a Saturday afternoon so out of place.

World War II. Not a day went by without being England missing from the house, allies of England in the dining hall for a meeting, both, neither, this way, that way, all sorts of ways.

However what happened took place earlier, before the war really started, when tensions were mounting.

It was supposed to be a day England rested. He promised me he'd manage at least Saturday afternoons to keep to himself relaxed (it rarely happened), and he actually could unwind that day. There were no meetings, no planning, no fighting, nothing was supposed to happen.

But something did.

I was picking up things around the house when I heard a particularly loud sob, followed by a bunch of incoherent string of words, foreign to me.

I knew who was talking. I knew it was a bad idea to make sure my assumptions were correct. Then again…

I dropped whatever was in my hand to poke my head through the doorway. There was England, reassuring a disheveled China. I was surprised to see China wearing what looked to be England's shirt, which I thought was strange. I noticed the cuts and bruises along China's skin and the red patches that managed to seep past the bandages and gauze and through his clothes. It wasn't fresh.

He was tripping over his own words, trying to explain to England something that had happened to him. The trouble was I had no idea what he was saying, or rather, I had quite a huge difficulty understanding. Being around England for so long, I hadn't bothered to exercise my use of the Chinese language. I paid close attention, trying to remember even the smallest amount.

I heard Japan's name (mixed in between bitter thoughts and unintelligible words) and 'death'. Had Japan died? No…I don't think so. Japan wouldn't have died so easily. I started thinking about the two's relationship with one another. It was very rough. Certainly something had happened between the two, something big enough to cause China to act so out of character.

England seemed to not notice the upset China, speaking in a business-like tone about whatever it was they were discussing. However, he would occasionally put his hand on China's shoulders for a brief moment, or run his fingers through the other's hair sympathetically.

I turned to leave before I was caught.