CHAPTER 8: Anywhere, Just Not Home

212 16 46
                                    

JAPAN
It had been an unsaid agreement that they were all to be slightly more nicer to each other, given that they were basically staging a coup and defying all rules of existence. Hooray for totalitarianism, or something like that.

But just to the extent that not a thing had to look out of place in any behavior. Interactions at school were reduced to subtle nods and a significant lack of truly hurtful remarks, while talks with any professors had become almost cloyingly sweet and devoid of suspicion.

At home, they would mourn, of course. Barely anyone talked in their group chat anymore, and Ukraine would never leave Canada's side. She did herself — looking through old class photos of them and UN as small children, wondering where the innocence had gone. But at school, they put on masks and hardened up their guise for another day. It was all just merely a ruse.

Yet, Japan noticed one thing that hadn't been as fake as everything else seemed to be, and even better, it was a solace from the sheer seriousness of it all. Honestly, if she had had some corporate ultra developed machine lenses, she could've sworn she saw sparks fly whenever a certain two people talked...

She squinted, observing from behind a wall and making sure not to drop her bookbag. Her eyes latched onto an ongoing interaction at Poland's locker. Oh, this would so be worth telling South and America.

"I'm telling you, they're all really nice people," Germany said, shrugging and fidgeting with the keychains on the locker doors. "You'll see. You're bound to give them a chance anyway."

"Better safe than sorry," Poland replied sheepishly. "I don't know yet. I can trust you, I don't know about them."

"Really."

"You just seem down-to-earth and humble and I think that's a good trait in someone to trust."

"Wow. That's nice to hear. Never heard that one before. Where's your first class? I can walk you there."

"Media Influence. You look like my bodyguard, you know."

There was laughter.

Japan had to stifle her own barrage of giggles. It was probably the only thing keeping her sane these days. Who knew they could look so cute?

SOUTH
Where the hell was Japan?

She was the one who asked me to get to school early, he thought to himself, grumbling as he eyed the inside of classrooms, and blinking rapidly so the barely visible swollen-ness of his eyes would look... not visible. He had put some ice to the swelling, and had some medicine, and it had helped a little, but it wasn't all gone, much to his chagrin.

He awkwardly walked past a group of teachers, trying not to look too guilty of anything, and then picked up his pace to escape their clicking footsteps. Groaning loudly, he whipped his head around a few more times — and suddenly spotted a bunch of her black hair at the edge of a wall's corner, tied up at the back and held together with a flower pin. About to give her a well-deserved scolding for not meeting at their normal place, he began to speak — when she suddenly threw her hand over his mouth and dragged him to the ground.

"Wmffjjjfffff????" he complained.

"Look," Japan whispered. She pointed at the backsides of Poland and Germany, walking out of sight side-by-side.

"Do you see that? Do you see how close—"

"Oh my god," South groaned when Japan let go. "Everyone is such a pain in the ass."

Saudade | CountryHumans RusAmeWhere stories live. Discover now