A continuation. This is feeling a bit more like Canada's story now.
Also, this is my first time writing Japan. I hope I did a good job...
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“Did you hear what happened to Japan?” asked Canada. America sat on his bed, hunched over an old color gameboy, falling bricks reflecting off his glasses. Canada sat on the other side of the bed. There was something so usual about the way America hadn’t noticed him walk in twenty minutes ago. Maybe he hadn’t even heard Canada, but there Canada sat anyway, the new pair of jeans he’d brought for his brother in his lap.
“He’s under observation… or something. Something like he didn’t eat for a while, just locked himself in a closet with some comic books. So now they’re watching him, making sure he’s not going to hurt himself —”
“And I did this to him,” said America. So America had heard his brother speak. But, if Japan had locked himself in all week, he couldn’t have been at the meeting.
“That’s not what I was trying to say.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” asked America, the music from the gameboy gaining speed.
“No, it’s not true.”
“Then who did?”
Canada swallowed. People selling seemingly stable investments, giving mortgages to high-risk customers, inflating a real-estate bubble for profit and profit and profit until it inevitably popped had done it. And their headquarters had been Wall Street, just under America’s right earlobe.
Canada had no answer. He stood up, about to say he was going to the bathroom, but then he didn’t think America would notice, so he left without saying anything at all into the hallway and found a nice crook in the wall to stand in. He took his cell out of his pocket and dialed Japan. It only rang once before it picked up.
“Moshimoshi?” The voice was too deep to be Japan’s. Perhaps he’d dialed the wrong number?
“Hello? Can I… can I speak with Honda?” asked Canada. He hoped this was the right number, or else he may be given to the wrong Honda.
“Hello?” No, it was the right Honda on the other end of the line.
“Japan, it’s Canada.”
“Ah, Canada-san. Hello.”
“Umm,” said Canada, completely forgetting why now he called. It almost seemed like the world was falling apart again. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine, and though I appreciate your concern, I feel I must remind you that while it may be a timely hour in Ottawa, it is four AM in Tokyo.” Even through his even, calm tone, Japan’s voice sounded hoarse, almost as if he had been crying.
“Oh, sorry… and actually, I’m in D. C. right now,” said Canada.
“I see.”
“You… heard what happened, right?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you?”
“Nobody needed to tell me. They may have confiscated my computer, but I still have a phone. Russia-san posted pictures of the act to his livejournal.”
“Russia, he…?”
“Yes. He’s rather famous in the Russian blogosphere. His people were entertained by his stories of us, thinking them satire. According to the most recent comments, though, his fans are no longer amused,” said Japan.
“Oh, God…”
“Would you like me to text you the link?”
“No. No, I don’t want it.”
“Canada, I understand that you are upset, but I believe that if I remain on the phone much longer, my observers will begin to think there’s been an international incident,” said Japan.
“I could have stopped it,” blurted Canada. Even though he’d thought it and thought it, it sounded strange in his own voice.
“And America-kun could have stopped making risky loans, but there is little use dwelling on what could have been done. Good night, Canada-san.”
“Good—”
But Japan hung up. That small sign of discourtesy seemed to speak volumes. How had everyone managed to remain so civil in the thirties?
Wait, no, they hadn’t remained civil at all. Perhaps nothing like this had happened, but what happened instead was so much worse. It wouldn’t cure an ailing economy, but maybe if everyone vented earlier, it wouldn’t happen again. It was a price, but averting disaster always came at a price…
It made Canada sick that he was even thinking that way, and sicker when he thought that he was probably right.
Re: A bit of an afterward
Also, this is my first time writing Japan. I hope I did a good job...
---
“Did you hear what happened to Japan?” asked Canada. America sat on his bed, hunched over an old color gameboy, falling bricks reflecting off his glasses. Canada sat on the other side of the bed. There was something so usual about the way America hadn’t noticed him walk in twenty minutes ago. Maybe he hadn’t even heard Canada, but there Canada sat anyway, the new pair of jeans he’d brought for his brother in his lap.
“He’s under observation… or something. Something like he didn’t eat for a while, just locked himself in a closet with some comic books. So now they’re watching him, making sure he’s not going to hurt himself —”
“And I did this to him,” said America. So America had heard his brother speak. But, if Japan had locked himself in all week, he couldn’t have been at the meeting.
“That’s not what I was trying to say.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” asked America, the music from the gameboy gaining speed.
“No, it’s not true.”
“Then who did?”
Canada swallowed. People selling seemingly stable investments, giving mortgages to high-risk customers, inflating a real-estate bubble for profit and profit and profit until it inevitably popped had done it. And their headquarters had been Wall Street, just under America’s right earlobe.
Canada had no answer. He stood up, about to say he was going to the bathroom, but then he didn’t think America would notice, so he left without saying anything at all into the hallway and found a nice crook in the wall to stand in.
He took his cell out of his pocket and dialed Japan. It only rang once before it picked up.
“Moshimoshi?” The voice was too deep to be Japan’s. Perhaps he’d dialed the wrong number?
“Hello? Can I… can I speak with Honda?” asked Canada. He hoped this was the right number, or else he may be given to the wrong Honda.
“Hello?” No, it was the right Honda on the other end of the line.
“Japan, it’s Canada.”
“Ah, Canada-san. Hello.”
“Umm,” said Canada, completely forgetting why now he called. It almost seemed
like the world was falling apart again. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine, and though I appreciate your concern, I feel I must remind you that while it may be a timely hour in Ottawa, it is four AM in Tokyo.” Even through his even, calm tone, Japan’s voice sounded hoarse, almost as if he had been crying.
“Oh, sorry… and actually, I’m in D. C. right now,” said Canada.
“I see.”
“You… heard what happened, right?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you?”
“Nobody needed to tell me. They may have confiscated my computer, but I still have a phone. Russia-san posted pictures of the act to his livejournal.”
“Russia, he…?”
“Yes. He’s rather famous in the Russian blogosphere. His people were entertained by his stories of us, thinking them satire. According to the most recent comments, though, his fans are no longer amused,” said Japan.
“Oh, God…”
“Would you like me to text you the link?”
“No. No, I don’t want it.”
“Canada, I understand that you are upset, but I believe that if I remain on the phone much longer, my observers will begin to think there’s been an international incident,” said Japan.
“I could have stopped it,” blurted Canada. Even though he’d thought it and thought it, it sounded strange in his own voice.
“And America-kun could have stopped making risky loans, but there is little use dwelling on what could have been done. Good night, Canada-san.”
“Good—”
But Japan hung up. That small sign of discourtesy seemed to speak volumes. How had everyone managed to remain so civil in the thirties?
Wait, no, they hadn’t remained civil at all. Perhaps nothing like this had happened, but what happened instead was so much worse. It wouldn’t cure an ailing economy, but maybe if everyone vented earlier, it wouldn’t happen again. It was a price, but averting disaster always came at a price…
It made Canada sick that he was even thinking that way, and sicker when he thought that he was probably right.
The whole damn world needed a support group now.