(A/n): we're back and we'll try to get a lot posted over Christmas break.

Recap:

"America you idiot what were you thinking. Japan could be lost somewhere or worse. We better go look for him. We'll find him faster if we split up. You take the north end and I'll take the south. Let's meet at Tokyo at sundown. If we don't find him we'll try again at sunrise."

"Sounds like a plan see ya." America says and runs off.

*chapter start*

America decided to stop by Japan's house first, before looking anywhere else. He had been there dozens of times to visit, both for business and because they were friends. Panic gripped him, as feelings of intense guilt washed over him. He hadn't wanted this, not that it was his decision, but he had wanted the war to end. It hadn't worked, or at least not yet.

'Hopefully something will come out of this.' He thought.

Japan's house, being in Tokyo, was completely unharmed form the bombs in Nagasaki and Hiroshima. He knocked on the door, hoping for some sort of reply, but receiving none. He decided that the best course of action was to break down the door.

'Oh man,' America thought. 'Japan is going to be so pissed at me for breaking his door. And for some other things. Shit.'

Raising his leg, he snapped the door, which splintered into dozens pieces.

" Japan? You in here dude? I kinda broke your door. Sorry." He called out.

He walked around the house, checking behind every door and every closet, until he reached the end of the hallway. He could just feel how different this area felt. Words couldn't describe it, it was almost as if he could sense a presence in the closed room. He closed his eyes, and opened the door.

It was the stench that hit him first; it was an unholy combination of blood( a smell he was far too aware of), vomit, and urine.

'Bingo'. He thought .

He opened his eyes and saw Japan lying on a bed basically unconscious, save for a few twitches of pain. He looked, frankly, like shit. His skin was almost as pale and thin as paper, except for the dark circles beneath his eyes, and a feverish blush on his cheeks. He was clearly bleeding from two cuts in his chest, and had been for at least a few days. One definitely looked fresher than the other.

'That must be Hiroshima and Nagasaki.' He thought.

There was blood and vomit surrounding him, clearly no one had found or helped him.

'Jesus Christ, what have I done? Shit. Too late now. The only thing I can do is to help him recover.'

He walked over, the smell now overpowering.

He leaned down, and whispered, " Japan? Can you hear me bro?"

The smaller man groaned before nodding.

" I'm going to call someone but I'll be back in a moment, ok?"

Japan just rolled over, coughing rapidly. America quickly searched for the phone, before calling the British Embassy, asking them to tell a man named Arthur Kirkland to come to Japan's address. After he hung up, he looked for a first aid kit, and then made sure the bathroom had everything he needed. Then, he walked back into the room. Japan was lying flat on his back.

He was expecting him to say, " I know what happened."

America nearly cried. So he knew, while he wouldn't have to tell him, he desperately didn't want him to hate him. He was his friend; one of his closest friends.

" I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He whispered.

All he wanted was forgiveness.

"It's not like you had choice." Japan said, falling back asleep as his words slurred.

America laughed a little bit. He knew Japan understood that part of things, even if he was mad and wasn't showing it.

'I'll be able to do this. But England better get his ass here and help me.' He thought.

*to be continued*