Medicine = Magic [RoChu Fanfiction]

Chapter Nine

He was wrong.

America did in fact get up at two in the morning, and he sure as heck cooked a giant breakfast for them to eat before Japan got on the bus to the airport.

God there was so much food.

That morning Japan was greeted with a loud and happy announcement of, 'would you like orange juice or instant coffee? The orange juice is kind of warm though, I sort of left it on the counter overnight.'

Even before responding with a surprised and stuttery, "C-coffee please-" a cup had been shoved into his hands and he was being pushed down in a folding chair.

He had hurriedly devoured a waffle and a few oily breakfast sausages before excusing himself and standing up, apologizing but saying that he had to go.

While rushing out the door, Japan said goodbye to his friend, who was still happily chowing down on the bacon that the Japanese nation hadn't been able to finish.

How he ate so much food on a daily basis and still managed to stay fit always perplexed many of the other nations, England and Japan the most of all. He knew there was exercise involved, and quite possibly marathons occasionally since that seemed to be a part of his culture in some states, but it was still always rather shocking.

On the plane he had time to plan out his visit to his former caretaker, as he would be taking a plane from Tokyo to Beijing a day after he landed in his home country. After he visited his self-proclaimed-brother he would travel back, hopefully having comforted him a bit, or at least confirming that he had gotten better since the meeting.

While the sky brightened around the plane the people near him spoke to each other in various languages, many whispering or trying to get a bit of a nap on their way through the time zones. The woman beside him snored softly, her dark brown hair curled softy around her face. Since they were leaving at around four AM and the time it would be when they finished their flight would be around six thirty two AM Japan didn't blame her at all.

He did, however, grimace at the thought of the long flight. Even if the times seemed to convey only a few hours, everyone on the plane was painfully aware of the near fourteen they would have to spend cramped in the small space until they were set free once again and set foot onto the linoleum floors of the Japanese airport that waited for them.

But what was really on Japan's mind was not the slow-burning anxiety that his brain was instead replacing with his regular fear of flying oversea. Usually in war he was in the naval forces and rarely used planes himself. Perhaps it was the inherent terror from the honor driven tactics of his people in World War II.

He shuddered, pulling himself together. He had to stay calm throughout this flight, no one could detect any sort of weakness from him, a nation, in such a public place. Though he doubted that any of the mostly American and Japanese people around him would personally find a way to hurt him through it he had to be careful. Being such a personification meant that he had to always question who he trusted, even if he felt as though he knew their intentions.

Never letting anyone let on to your full emotions or the reasons behind them was crucial for survival. Even if the past had been far worse it was still a cutthroat place in the modern world.

Bringing himself back to Earth, or rather to air, he gently shook his head, chuckling at his own irrational fears. In order to combat his anxieties he softly slipped a book from his carry-on, apologizing as he accidentally bumped the arm of the woman who sat next to him.

A good thirteen hours or reading, politely chatting, and napping later, he found himself sluggishly padding down the walkway between the plane and his home airport. The floor creaked beneath the passengers and their suitcases. Although it felt nice to be back he knew that he would soon be leaving for another day and another two plane rides on his own accord.