Sorry for how late this is! I finished a long time ago, but FFN sent me errors of doom. Thankfully, from reading others' fics, I figured out how to get around the error! Thank you, iTorchic! XD To anyone else who might have been affected, the cheat was to replace "story_edit_property" with "story_edit_content" on the URL! :3 Well, you still won't be able to edit the properties, but at least you can put up new chapters...

A/N Chapter two, due to popular demand. :3 Thanks to everyone who read, fave'd, and reviewed. I appreciate your support in the first days of my career here on FFN. *bow* Floodwaters is going to be a short series now, but I won't necessarily update too quickly, since I wrote the first chapter on writer's adrenaline, but this second one was slightly rushed, so I didn't exactly love the way it came out... ._. Plus, this whole chapter was supposed to be only the intro of chapter 2, so this might go on longer than I anticipated...Also, this was written five days after the crisis, so the news tidbits are not as up-to-date, but if I screw something up anyway, please do point it out~

Anyway, prayers to Japan, as it continues to recover, and while I'm at it, might as well send prayers to the Middle East, too. It's got nothing to do with this fic, but they sure need the prayers. ;_;

I don't own Hetalia.

"With the crisis in Japan continuing, and even worsening, up to four thousand casualties have been confirmed, with still seven thousand more missing. Japanese economy has also taken a huge blow from this catastrophe, losing six hundred twenty billion dollars in just two days. Rescuers from all parts of the world continue their search in the rubble, willing to lend a helping hand in…"

The television in the lavish hotel room (courtesy of Arthur, insistent that he ought to pay for it since it was his idea of a venue) continued its smooth newscast, but troubled thoughts drove the smaller details out of Yao's mind as he listened to it over his breakfast.

Four thousand dead. What if Kiku was among those? It had been only two days short of a week, and there had been no word from him yet. What if he'd been crushed under a whole house's worth of debris? What if he'd drowned in the horrible flood that was sent in by the tsunami? Thinking about it made Yao feel worse by the minute.

Seven thousand missing. Then again, what if he were still alive under all the planks of wood and collapsed roofs? What if he managed to swim to safety in the unforgiving waters and had found refuge in a faraway place where the rescuers hadn't been to yet? They were hopeful thoughts, but unlikely at best, and Yao couldn't help but find that his mind had registered them under "wishful thinking."

It was extremely worrying, and the pictures of a ravaged Japan flashing mercilessly on the television were no help at all.

Yao stared at his breakfast of congee as if it were alien. That was weird; he was usually a huge cuisine enthusiast, eating all three meals of the day with much vigor, but that moment, it just seemed like food wasn't so appetizing anymore. Come to think of it, he had been eating less and less in the past few days, in consistent proportion with the worsening condition of Japan.

Why was he so worried?

A loud knocking pushed Yao off of his train of thought. Startled, he snapped his head up at the noise, the news providing a constant background. "Who is it?"

"It's Feliciano~"

Feliciano? That was funny. The only person Feliciano was known for visiting in the morning was Ludwig, and usually for petty matters like him not being able to figure out how to flush the toilet in the new hotel or something similar. Yao just hoped Feliciano hadn't decided to turn to him instead, since Feliciano was a common subject of complaint when it came to Ludwig, and it didn't sound very fun.

"Hold on." Abandoning his untouched congee, Yao went to answer the door. Of course, the person he opened it to was the Italian he had expected.

Walking in as if it were Ludwig's room, or in other words, as if it were some everyday thing, Feliciano took a glance at Yao's perfectly presented meal and said, "That's funny. You didn't eat your breakfast."

"Uh…Well, yeah, the morning hasn't really turned out well," Yao said awkwardly, closing the door as well as watching the Italian twirl around the room and poke his nose in all of Yao's stuff.

"But you don't usually leave your breakfast," Feliciano answered casually, failing at an attempt to read one of Yao's Chinese magazines.

Yao didn't answer for a while, simply staring at Feliciano flip the pages of the magazine and gaze in awe at the many beautiful sceneries and tourist spots that were portrayed within. "And what were you doing here again?" he finally asked as nice as he could.

"Oh. Well, you looked kinda sad yesterday…Oh, and the day before that, too, and those days before that, so I thought I'd come and pay you a visit, mm?" Feliciano closed the magazine and tossed it aside. "I don't like seeing people sad…" he whimpered.

Yao was a little dumbfounded. He never was very close to Feliciano in the first place, yet he seemed pretty worried about him. Maybe it really was just the tight binding of friendship that pulled everyone in the group together, even when some of them didn't get along too well personally. "W…Well, it's just that…I'm a little worried about Kiku," he finally admitted, resigning to his prior seat in front of his now-cold congee. The television continued relaying the latest news of the Japan crisis.

"Ehh? Is that all?" Feliciano took the seat across him, head turned to the news. "But look." When the Italian pointed at the television screen, Yao followed.

The caption on the screen no longer read, "Japan in Shambles" as it did a few moments ago. Instead, it said, "Miracles in Japan."

The newscaster's voice was a little lighter and more relieved as she said, "Amidst the disaster in Japan, miracles also sprout. In the Miyagi Prefecture, a four-month-old baby was found underneath all the rubble by a team of rescuers after they followed her cries. She is now in the care of her relieved parents, who had been worried for her welfare.

"Elsewhere, in the Iwate Prefecture, A seventy-year-old woman was found inside her house, suffering from hypothermia, yet still alive. She was sent to the hospital for treatment.

"And finally, floating on the ocean, a sixty-year-old man was found, clinging to his floating roof, lost at sea for two days, living a life of attempting to gain the attention of rescue helicopters and the like, yet miraculously surviving the ordeal.

"There is light at the end of the tunnel, and these stories of survival in the face of a crisis are examples of just that. These amazing miracles have fueled the rescuers to search harder, in case one of the seven thousand missing is found somewhere far off or perhaps still breathing under the debris, hungry, alone, yet amazingly alive."

And while the newscast wandered to other, more trivial subjects, Yao couldn't help but allow a tiny spark of hope light up his heart. If these people were found alive, if miracles do happen, then maybe, just maybe, Kiku could be alive. Hungry, alone, yet amazingly alive.

Yao felt a smile form on his lips.

"See; what'd I tell you?" Feliciano was back to his innocent and loveable self, proud to be right for once, and happy to see Yao happy. "Kiku's definitely alive. I just know it~"

"Mm."

"So you better go eat up, coz we're going sightseeing today!" Feliciano got up, playfully patting the elder's head to make a point. "Come to think of it, I haven't eaten yet…Well, I'm going to make myself some pasta! Don't wanna live off English food; yuck." And with that, Feliciano Vargas twirled merrily out the door, carefree.

That's what made him so uplifting. His happy attitude, that even when one of his friends was deemed dead, he still refused to believe it, didn't hole up, didn't grow depressed and just believed that things were better than they seemed. It could be his downfall when things really go wrong, but for that one instance…

For that one instance, his carefree nature was right.

Finding the appetite to eat again, Yao found something to look forward to, and it didn't seem so improbable anymore.

Kiku was alive, and they all knew it.

/

"Mommy?" The little Japanese girl, hair in pigtails and shoes soaked through from all the trekking she'd done on the still-damp ground, walked up to her mother on the observatory floor, who was taking inventory of the limited supplies they had left after hurriedly fleeing from the tsunami. The girl herself was teary-eyed and sullen the way little girls are. "I can't find the doggy. He ran off at night and I can't find him."

Her skinny mother looked up from her work thoughtfully. "Well," she began slowly, "maybe he's found his real owner, and maybe he's ran off to keep him company. Wouldn't that be better for him?"

The girl answered with a little sob.

And somewhere far off, Pochi had found his real owner.