'ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏʙᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

15

America and England were the first out of the room, their position close to the room's door playing to their advantage. Arthur had to lead the way to the kitchen, but after racing down the stairs in a disorderly fashion and charging through doors. They reached the kitchen's entrance, and every nation bar Russia, China, Canada, France, Spain and Portugal (who'd elected to stay behind to prevent crowding) was now increasingly worried about what they'd find. It had sounded like pots and pans clattering, but given how loud and long the noise was, they all had a feeling that it was more than one pan.

Alfred told everyone to hang back, and before anyone could protest, he'd entered the kitchen with caution. "Kiku? Are you in here?"

He didn't get a proper response other than a pained groan and as Alfred inspected the area, he could see a collection of pans sprawled across the floor along with a large puddle of water and the remnants of what Japan must've been preparing for dinner. Not good. An island counter was obscuring half of the space, and from what he could see, there was nowhere else Kiku could be. Alfred just hoped that he was alright, unscathed. It had been an eventful day as it was, there wasn't need for anymore excitement or thrill.

With a slow and steady pace, he trailed around the counter island, the puddle of water reaching around to that area, and to his dismay, Kiku was sat in a muddle (and a puddle) on the floor rubbing his head and then wincing at the pain in his hand. He'd spilt boiling water on it when he'd fallen, and the skin was evidently starting to blister and burn in a particularly gruesome sight. He tried to stand up on his own, but Alfred had to quickly give him a hand and help him over to the sink so that Kiku could get some cold water on his left arm.

Tired of waiting and being left in the lurch, Germany barged into the kitchen with Italy and England right behind, and they were at first shocked to see the state of the far side of the kitchen before the real surprise came when they saw America faffing over Japan and making sure he was alright, repeatedly asking Kiku if he was OK. It was a humbling sight, but that was quickly overcome when the trio caught a glimpse of Kiku's arm.

"What happened in here?" Ludwig questioned, moving to help his old ally too.

"It would appear that someone had spilt something on the floor, causing me to slip," Kiku replied, flinching slightly at the mixture of numbing and burning sensations under his skin, and the itch that was starting to form in the affected area. "I ended up knocking over the pan I was using and several others ones, and . . . Well . . ." He turned his arm under the tap. "You can see the aftermath."

"Arthur, have you got any icepacks or anything?" America asked. He was starting to look in drawers and cupboards – a funny place to look for an icepack in Japan's opinion, but he didn't question it.

"Yeah, uh . . . Give me a second," England replied, and he disappeared through another door on the other side of the room.

Alfred nodded calmly at no one in particular. "Keep that arm under the water for a few more minutes," he instructed Kiku. "We'll get the icepack to defrost a bit and then we can dress the wound to help the healing process. Give it a day or so and it should be fine."

"Thank you, I appreciate your help," Japan replied.

Of course, Alfred's calmness under the circumstances was unexpected and inexplicable to him and everyone else present. They hadn't seen this side to him – a side that knew order and could keep a cool head and knew exactly what to do in the specific situation as if he'd faced it everyday he'd been alive. England knew that side to him. He'd seen it a few times. But Germany, Italy and Japan were rather gobsmacked by it, and decided not to interfere in anyway so as to disturb the peace and strange serenity of the room.