Japan opened his eyes quickly, as if he had just slept through the most important meeting of his life. Perhaps he had. The ground was softer than he had remembered sleeping on, the meeting room floors were never this comfortable. Looking around, there was no way Japan could see through the ink-black darkness that had shrouded his room. Something itched the bridge of his nose. Lifting a heavy arm, his fingers searched his face. His chin, his neck, his nose, the wrappings across his eyes and forehead.

No wonder he couldn't see anything. Slowly he peeled away the gauze that had been protecting his eyes from whatever they need protection from. As the gauze was lifted away, Japan could clearly see his room being dappled with the soft light of the outside world. It was lovely, but irritating. How was he supposed to do paperwork if the whole room was dark? But...why was he in his bed right now anyway? Just a moment ago he had been in Tokyo, sending off a message to America refusing to surrender. Had he been ambushed on the way back?

He attempted to stand up, a searing pain crawled from his left calf and up to his hip. He hit the ground with a strong force, unable to bear with the sealed it. He was ambushed by Russian spies or American soldiers on his way back home. But what exactly happened?

As if calling his name, Japan crawled over to the radio. The broadcasters would know what was going on. They would probably mention whatever accident had happened to him. Kiku Honda was a well liked man in Japan, after all, and the people would demand to know if he was well.

What he heard next nearly put him back into a coma.

"People of Japan." It was Emperor Hirohito. Japan had, honestly, only heard him speak outward a couple of times. He was a hard man to understand, always speaking in a more formal and lesser known dialect. Never once had Emperor Hirohito ever spoken on the radio. For most of Japan, this was their first time hearing his voice. "The enemy has begun to employ a new and most cruel bomb, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives. Should We continue to fight, not only would it result in an ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation, but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization. We will have to endure the hardships of surrender and submit ourselves to save not only ourselves, but the world."

Japan stared at the radio, his hands shaking. His whole body shook, he put his hands through his raven-colored hair. His eyebrows furrowed together he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg, and walked painstakingly to his window. Using the wall to keep the weight off of his left leg, he peered outside. Usually, he could count on the swaying of emerald grass, of flower blossoms dancing through the air, the sweet smell of the countryside. This would not be one of those days. Against his own will he let out a cry so horrid that it caused even the Russian guard to shiver. Japan turned on his heel and ran out of his room, running just outside of his door.

For a moment he stood, staring at the demolished city before him. The ash from burned down houses stained the ground and rubble littered every street. The whole town was swallowed in a grey depression that it may never recover from. Not a single bright color could be seen, not a single tree was left standing, and even the grass had been turned to an ashen soot. Japan's usual resolve was broken in an instant. His whole country, his whole life, everything he had ever wanted was gone. For no reason. He hung his head in sheer disbelief and sadness.
*"Shikata ga nai." A Japanese woman said, sifting through the rubble. Her once pink garments were tattered, burned into her very skin, and had been dyed the same color as the ash that began to fall from the sky. "Shikata na gai, Kiku."

Japan looked at her, "Hai, shikata na gai."

Japan stood, looking at his broken and devastated land. He turned to go back inside his house, the Russian guard pretending he wasn't watching. Japan shot him a nasty look before going into his home, slamming the door behind him, and locking it tightly. The Russian guard thought nothing of it. If his country looked this bad, he'd slam the door in someones face too.

The Russian man unzipped his black uniform jacket, revealing a light lavender scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Tightening his lavender scarf, he resumed his position in front of the doorway. If Japan wanted to shut himself off in his room, that was fine with him.

Everyone would become one with him soon anyways, da?