A/N: This story will forever hold the "complete" mark, even though I may occasionally update. This is because at the end of each chapter, the story remains complete. After all, this will just be a series of oneshots.

This chapter involves Canada and America.

Note: I used the term "human" in this story because in HetaOni, they do not carry the weight of their nations in the mansion.

Edit: After some thought, I have decided to change the wording back to its original (pre-uploaded) state. If you cannot tell the difference, that's fine... the change is subtle.

"H-how is it?" the young man gasped, watching as his brother carefully inspected his wound. He didn't have enough strength to sit up unattended, so his back rested on the wall. His brother crouched beside him, tenderly removing the young man's bloodied coat and shirt.

"It's…" America's mouth suddenly went dry as his eyes took in the damage, Bad. Terrible. A huge chunk his side is completely gone! He gently touched around the injury, flinching when he heard his brother hiss in pain, "You'll be okay, it's fine." He croaked out.

"You don't have to lie to me," Canada said weakly.

"Who's lying?" America asked, looking up, but trying to avoid his brother's eyes.

"Is… is at least… Kujijiro okay?"

America looked down, "He… I…" the man didn't trust himself to speak. When the monster had suddenly attacked, the bear had jumped out of Canada's bag unbidden. He launched himself at the monster in a ferocious attack, but the beast had evaded him and focused its sights instead on the two humans. When the creature succeeded in sinking its claws into Canada's side, America wasn't thinking at all about the bear. All that was going through America's mind was how to get his brother out of there.

"Oh…" Canada whispered, looking away, "Kumajiro…"

"Hey… he's a strong bear, I'm sure he'll be fine," America said.

"Right… like… like I will be fine," Canada said, gasping.

"You will be fine!" America shouted, beginning to tear up Canada's ruined shirt to use as makeshift bandages. It won't do any good… a voice in the back of his head hissed.

"Y…you really think so?" Canada whispered.

"Of course," America said, quickly wrapping the cloth around Canada's torso, seeing in horror that the blood was already soaking through.

Canada looked down, unsure. His breath was ragged and weak, like China's… right before he…

No. America told himself firmly. NO.

"You will get out of here," America said, he finished dressing the wound and pulling himself up beside his brother. He wrapped his arm around Canada's shoulders, his voice getting soft and desperate, "…and when we get out of here, what say we go grab a couple beers and watch a hockey game. Just you and me…"

Canada smiled weakly, and rested his head on America's shoulder, "I…"

America could feel young man's shallow, labored breaths, so he gripped his brother even tighter. Stay with me…

"I'll root for your teams this time…and-and I'll even watch curling with you."

"That would be nice…" Canada whispered.

"Then, we'll spend the rest of the day telling each other stories, like how we used to do when we were younger. Do you remember that?" America asked, finally looking down at his brother. Canada weakly raised his head to look America in the eyes, and America felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. His brother's clear violet eyes had become hazy; his skin had become abnormally pale.

"I…remember…" Canada said softly, studying America's face. His eyes fluttered closed as he slumped onto his brother's shoulder, "Th…thank you…"

His labored breaths slowed, shallowed, and soon there were none at all.