Allies

Japan led the way silently through corridors zebra-striped with sunlight and shadows. He remembered the blood on the wall. It was strange. There had been no blood before. The creature had vanished as per usual, but it had left a sickening pattern of crimson splotches on the wall. The blood refused to fade away. Blood always did.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your sword made out of?" England murmured. He was always casting wary glances behind them, as if afraid the monster would suddenly reappear if he stopped looking.

"It's a ceremonial sword," Japan replied. In truth, it was so much more than that. The sword had a history. Once upon a time, it had killed hundreds without touching a single drop of blood. It was an emperor's sword, built not for usefulness or performance, but for appearance and value. It was a symbol. "Pure silver, I believe."

England hummed thoughtfully. "No wonder, then."

He drifted away, to be replaced by China.

"Are you hurt?"

The question caught Japan off guard. Once upon a time, he was used to hearing such expressions of concern. That 'once upon a time' had been a long time ago.

"No," he replied brusquely.

China held up a piece of charred fabric. With a slight start that did not show up on his blank features, Japan recognised it as a part of his own uniform.

The scrap was badly charred and stained with something red, but the kanji were still legible. China did not speak. The red patch on the fabric spoke for him.

"It's just tomato," Japan said quietly, wondering how on Earth the elder nation had gotten a hold of it. He was so sure he had completely destroyed the bits he didn't use.

China lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed?" His expression remained impassive. Japan could never tell what was going on beneath those dark eyes, so similar to his own. You never knew what China was thinking unless he wanted you to.

"We were caught unawares by the creature. Italy threw some tomatoes at it and I... got in the way. It was lucky I had a spare uniform at hand. The smell was bothering me."

"Oh? So you burnt your first uniform?"

"Yes."

China scrutinised Japan. There was a slightly raised patch beneath his pristine white jacket that suggested the presence of hidden bandages made hastily out of a torn-up uniform. It was so faint as to be unnoticeable, but China always did have an eye for detail.

Japan raised his eyes challengingly, as if daring China to call him out. He was no longer the boy forever clutching fearfully at the elder nation's sleeve in the hopes his presence would be able to keep the monsters at bay. He was no longer one of China's little siblings, and he did not need to be treated as such.

"I see." China's expression did not change. He dropped his pace so that he was no longer in step with Japan.

The rest of the walk stretched into a subdued silence.

It seemed an eternity before they arrived at the room with the steel door. Italy jumped up from where he was sitting, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Ve, Japan, am I glad to see you all here! Are any of you injured? I can help with injuries-"

Japan assured him that they were not.

Germany cleared his throat. "Hast du Preussen gesehen?" He asked.

Japan shook his head regretfully. "Gomen."

Germany nodded, and fell silent.

Russia sat down on the bed, the ancient springs protesting under his weight. "America and France are missing too," he said, stretching out his legs lazily. "America, I am not too worried about. He has a very big gun. France, I am not so sure. He gives up easily." He tilted his head and grinned.

England scowled. It was clear to him that his privilege of being the sole personification allowed to scrap with France was being contested. "Oh, I don't know. He's got a proper silver sword on him, and he, unlike some, knows how to swing a sword in a way that actually damages the opponent."

Russia opened his mouth to fire back a retort, only to be interrupted by Canada, of all people.

"Can we please not fight, just this time?" Canada asked in a soft tone that wasn't used to being able to shear someone's else's sentence in half. "There's some of us out there who could be in danger."

There was a stunned silence.

Then England said: "I apologize. Canada, Russia, I hope you will not take it amiss of me. It is a distressing time."

"I, too." Russia said solemnly. "I will try to stop myself from becoming too much of a nuisance for the time being."

Canada sighed. Empty words, from the both of them. But it was the best they were going to get.

Germany clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "I would assume Japan has already filled you in for the most part, but so far, this is what we have experienced..."

America wandered listlessly through the dusty hallways with his heart doing somersaults in his throat. He hated creepy enclosed spaces. He hated the dust and the darkness. But most of all, he hated being alone. He was used to being the center of attention all the time. But now nobody was paying him any attention, save the dust and the shadows. And maybe the monster.

He shivered involuntarily. The dead air stirred in the wake of his footsteps, bring up little swirls and eddies of dust. He always thought England was a little cuckoo, y'know, the guy was old, but maybe it would have paid to give him a little bit of attention when he was on one of his rants about paranormal activity.

It wasn't like this in the movies. They never said anything about monsters immune to an AS50 rifle. And what nettled him most was that he hadn't even managed to heroically save his unarmed brother, who had gotten himself knocked out and dragged away to who-knows-where by the commie, of all people, while America himself tried to lure the monster away, only to be completely ignored. Boy, that hadn't sat well with his psyche. And when he tried to follow after them, he somehow got himself completely and utterly lost.

Now he was meandering around by himself in a confirmed haunted mansion, with no idea what had happened to the others. They could be all dead, for all he knew, not that a little dying ever kept them down for long. But that'd mean he was the only one left in the mansion, and golly, he was starting to freak. He'd been afraid of the dark bit under his bed as a child, which was why he'd nicked one of England's fancy pistols and stowed it in his pillowcase. England had heard all about it when the maid cleaned out his bedroom and collapsed in a dead faint, on the account that there was still a bit of dried blood sticking to the handle and England hadn't had the time to clean it out before America finagled it, and the red stuff had come off all over the pillowcase. He could still see England struggling to decide between giving him an earful or a week's worth of sweets. Pirate England did not take kindly to people who fainted at the sight of blood, especially when it wasn't even runny anymore.

A strange thought struck him unexpectedly. He hadn't thought to ask England how the blood had gotten there, or what he had been doing before he came home with the pistol. All he remembered was that there'd been a little trouble with another country, and England was wearing a hell lot of bandages. America felt a little guilty about that. He knew they were fighting over him - they were always fighting over him. It could have been England's blood on the pistol.

Dude, that was macabre. He didn't need to know what England had been doing, that didn't matter anymore. Especially not now. There was nobody here with him, and the place was creepy.

America became aware of a faint thudding sound, like very heavy footsteps getting closer.

"Oh, boy," he muttered to himself, finding the smooth handle of his rifle under his bomber jacket. This was going to be one hell of a showdown.

The hero was not afraid. He couldn't afford to be.

"So, Prussia's disappeared, there's a chance these things can kill us permanently, you can't get out of the door because it's locked, and you can't get out of the windows because they're barred. And there are more monsters around than we've seen," China summed up. "Very well done of us, I'd say. Perhaps we could have picked somewhere safer, like an erupting volcano?"

"Seems like you've got the gist of it," England commented dryly.

"Oh, and we found this scrap of paper in a box when we tried to burn it for firewood," Italy piped up, waving a torn page with two coloured stripes on it. "I thought it might be important. Maybe the owner of this house liked to play pranks on their guests?"

"It's a possibility," England murmured. "I've met some evil sons of sows in the poltergeist business."

"Oh, Russia," Canada suddenly spoke up, startling everyone including himself. "I forgot to thank you for carrying me out of that mess."

Russia shrugged. "It is not a problem. Leaving without my comrade was not an option," he said sincerely.

China rolled his eyes. "I thought I was your comrade."

Russia beamed delightedly. "All of you are comrades. But you are a special comrade, Kitay."

"Glad to hear it," China mumbled under his breath.

All of a sudden, there was an almighty Bang! at the door.

"Bollocks!" England cursed. "The bastard's found us again, now what?"

"The door will hold for some time," Germany shouted over the din of the hammering. "I have not finished reinforcing the base, so we cannot hide. I suggest we split into groups-"

"One to fight the devil, one to look for for the others, and another to look for an exit," England shouted back. "We will all meet at the room with the piano. I assume everybody knows where that is? Good! I will take Canada and look for the others, you and Italy-"

"Japan, Russia, and I will take care of the monster," China interrupted. "We are settled, now go!"

The door splintered apart as the creature entered.

"Privet," Russia called out cheerfully, catching the monster's attention. Japan and China drew their swords simultaneously. The two other groups darted out of the open doorway at the first opportunity. Italy cast a worried backward glance at them.

Go! Japan mouthed urgently. Italy went.

"It is not very often the three of us get to do something nice together," Russia said with a broad smile. "Wouldn't it be nice if it happened more often?"

China snorted derisively. "If you want us to cooperate like the nice, friendly neighbours that we aren't on an occasion where our lives aren't at risk, I have a sinking feeling."

He suddenly smiled disarmingly at them. "When we get back, I am throwing a party. I promise to cook your favourite Chinese dishes and not let England near the kitchen, how about it?"

Japan gave him a wan smile. "I look forward to it, Chugoku-san. And I, in turn, promise to do my best to not die on the way."

"Am I invited?" Russia asked as the monster advanced into the room, filling all available space with its bulk.

"Of course. If we both leave alive, that is."

Russia's eyes lit up in a pleasant sort of surprise. "I shall not let you down, Kitay," he promised.

"-could be that they're not ghosts, of course. Poltergeist activity is hardly ever this serious, but perhaps the first spectre was just very, very angry. Infestations like this, well, haven't seen one like it since the bubonic plague..."

England muttered unceasingly under his breath, his eyes fixed blankly on a spot in the ceiling. Canada walked a little ways behind, keeping a wary eye out in case anything out of the normal happened to them. More out of the normal than the normal kind of out-of-normal, anyway. Nations got used to surprises after a while.

"-iron, and silver works on anything supernatural, but sea salt and lavender only works on ghosts. We'd have to find some of that, conduct a test-"

He broke off to try a door handle. It was locked.

"That's just about the whole house," Canada said quietly. "Perhaps they left?"

England shook his head. "You heard Japan. The door was locked, and all the windows are barred. There's no other way out."

Canada opened his mouth to suggest that maybe America had made himself a new exit, given his strength nowadays. He closed it again. He didn't want to upset England. A century ago, he could have pulled down a reinforced concrete wall with ease.

"Let's head up to the piano room, then," England turned and walked back the way they had come. "You know those three. They're probably playing some absurd kind of practical joke on us."

"Yes," Canada murmured. The alternative was too terrifying to think about.

"The creature was a little bigger than the one before," Germany noted.

"They'll get bigger, I expect," Italy said. "Maybe we should go back and help them?"

Germany stared at him. For the past hour or so, Italy had been refusing to meet his eye. He had not tried to glomp him, kidnap his hand, or otherwise show any signs of the bouts of enthusiastic physical affection he was prone to exhibit for at least two hours. And he hadn't made a half-witted comment about food since they entered the mansion.

The world was turning in strange and incomprehensible ways. Germany did not like it one bit.

"No. First we should accomplish the mission given to us." German said firmly. "China, Russia, and Japan are fully capable of handling themselves. We have been tasked to fully understand this house so that we can lighten their burden."

Italy suddenly looked very interested in his boots. The laces, Germany noted with more than a touch of surprise, were tied.

"Si," Italy said in a subdued voice. "I suppose you're right. But if we see a monster, we have to run away." He fixed an uncharacteristically hard gaze on Germany. "Both of us."

Something about the tone of his voice reached out and slapped the soldier in Germany to instant attention. He resisted an urge to salute. Mein Gott, Germany thought wonderingly. He tried to remember if the creature had somehow landed a blow on his head. Or Italy's head. The answer came out as a negative.

"Duly noted," Germany said in surprise. "Let us get on with the job at hand, then."

The three nations operated on pure instinct and muscle memory. Silver flashed as the blades rose and fell with a graceful rhythm. The monster had already lost an arm to Japan's katana.

China back away from a swinging claw and calmly sheathed his sword.

"Nanishiteruno?" Japan yelled as he batted a flailing limb away from him.

"Normal steel is no good, England said," China explained. He raised his fists and waited for the monster to get close. "However, I am a little stronger than before-"

He suddenly lashed out like a striking viper. There was a nasty crack as his fist connected with the creature's jaw and threw its bulbous head backwards violently. The monster staggered back, and slowly folded into a dazed heap.

"-and I happen to be wearing a silver ring," China finished smugly.

There was a rustle of fabric as Russia stepped up. "My turn now, comrade."

Japan retreated from the monster and sheathed his blade. "Hai. All yours."

Russia grinned. "Watch this."

"Kolkhoze."

A blast of freezing air swept out and hit the monster with the force of a runaway train. There was an almost comic tink! as the unfortunate creature was frozen solid. Then it shattered.

"What was that, aru?" China said, stunned, as the tinkling and crashing died down.

"It is a spell. England made it for me." Russia beamed at his shocked companions. "Very impressive, da? He said spells were hard to make. I bought it from him for a great price."

"What was it?" China asked curiously.

Russia shrugged dismissively. "I smuggled him to the moon."

There was a proverbial thud as jaws hit the floor.

"You know, he asked me for a ride up when I started building rockets, too," China said after a beat of silence.

"Maybe he just really likes the moon," Japan suggested.

The three nations digested this silently.

"Funny man, isn't he?" China said at last. "I wonder what goes on in that head of his."

Something buzzed in one of Russia's coat pockets. "It's just my phone," he said, as the other two reached for their swords.

"Privet, eto Rossiya."

There was a beat of silence after his answer. Then-

Beep

The other caller hung up.

Russia frowned. "It was a note," he said, puzzled. "A piano note. Sol."

Sol. Sole. Alone.

"Somebody is playing a bad joke," he murmured to himself. "I do not like it."

Italy peeked cautiously around the bookcase.

"Alright," he whispered, tugging on Germany's sleeve. "I think it's not here."

"You think?" Germany hissed. "Can you see it or not?"

"No."

"Well, then it's not here."

Germany moved out from behind the bookcase, trying his damndest not to make any noise. It wasn't working, probably due the fact he was wearing steel-tipped boots.

Italy detached himself from the bookcase reluctantly and followed after him. He thought he had caught a flash of grey disappearing around the corner just before, but it could have been paranoia. It could have been paranoia, but then again the last time he had thought the same thing the red carpet had gotten a whole lot redder.

His breath kicked in his throat. Italy slowed down and put a hand on his temple.

(-screams that he wasn't supposed to hear... damn you, damn you, what gives you the right-!)

"Italien?"

Italy started. He realised he had been breathing faster than he should have and tried to get it back under control. He turned away and rubbed furiously at the traitorous tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

A hand touched his shoulder with surprising gentleness. "Geht es dir gut?"

Italy lowered his hand and managed a shadow of a smile. "Ve, I am fine, thank you for asking. It's just this place. It is... it is a little distressing."

Germany looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, yes, that is understandable." He removed his hand. "If you wish to talk about it..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"Grazie." Italy gave him a wan smile.

The silence was abruptly broken by a faint thudding sound. Germany cursed and started to reach for his pistol.

Italy grabbed his hand before it reached the holster. "No!" He shouted. "You said you'd run! You promised!"

Germany stared at him, and then decided to go with it. He let Italy drag him around several bookcases and then around a table, all the while screeching and cursing at the thing in rapid Italian. Germany winced. He didn't understand some of the choicer selection of swears, but what he did understand made him wish for some detergent. Possibly some bleach.

Italy fired off one last volley of curse words and bolted for the door, pushing Germany in front of him like a bewildered shopping trolley.

They legged it down the hallways and eventually stopped in a kitchen of sorts, wheezing for breath. They listened intently. The sounds of pursuit had faded away.

Panting, the two took notice of their surroundings. There was a door in the far left corner of the kitchen. Germany and Italy shared a look, and by silent mutual agreement, they ventured into it.

There were rows of bookshelves in this room, too. Whoever had lived here had been an avid reader.

Italy pointed silently at a golden safe in a corner. The two nations meandered up to it, keeping a wary eye on the bookshelves in case the monster decided to spring out at them.

Germany wiped the dust off the golden surface. There was a rotating locking mechanism like a cable lock on a bicycle with four rows of numbers. He tried to handle, and found to no surprise at all it was locked.

"Pity," Italy whispered. He examined it curiously. "Perhaps there is something inside that could help us."

"Or perhaps there are some very old pictures of things the house owner did not want the world to see," Germany said bluntly. "Come on, we have to keep going."

They looked around the room, and upon realising there was no other way out of it, exited the place via the kitchen.

Germany growled in frustration as they chanced upon yet another locked door. He was turning away from it when Italy caught his hand and pressed a small silver key into it. He grinned nervously when Germany stared at him. "Japan gave it to me," he said embarrassedly. "I forgot to tell you about it."

Germany shrugged and inserted the key into the lock. It turned easily.

They found themselves in a Japanese style... living room? Italy wasn't sure. He hadn't spent as much time in Japan as he would have liked. He couldn't tell one Japanese-styled room from another. There were tatami mats on the floor, almost indistinguishable from the layers of dust that had settled on the ground.

A section of the room split to the side, leading to a broken wardrobe. Italy meandered up to it curiously, leaving Germany to look around the other parts of the room. Someone had taken the time to paint a pretty picture of a peacock sitting on a branch delicately onto the screen. He'd seen it all before, of course, but it was still nice to see a spot of colour amongst the dust and the shadows.

There was a balled-up piece of paper wedged into the crack running through the screen. Italy stared at it. He hadn't noticed it before. The crack in the glass was just big enough to accomodate the scrap of paper, yet not big enough to bring the entire screen shattering down.

He plucked out the piece of paper and unfolded it.

"Germany!" he called as loudly as he dared.

Germany appeared almost instantly, his pistol in one hand and the handle of his whip in another. He relaxed somewhat when he saw that Italy was still in one piece and the monster was nowhere to be seen.

"Look!" Italy said excitedly. He brought out the piece of paper he had found before and smoothed it out. Then he pieced it together with the new scrap.

It was a perfect fit.

There were four stripes of colour, each drawn in crayon and spaced evenly apart. There was none of the discolouration that should by all rights be present from spending possibly decades in an abandoned house.

Germany frowned at it. "It is strange," he conceded. "But I do not see how it is relevant to anything."

Italy shrugged, tucking both pieces away in a pocket. "Maybe we will find out later. For now-"

A noise erupted cheerily in the dead stillness. The two nations gave a cry of shock and looked wildly around for the source of the noise. Then Italy gave an embarrassed laugh and took his phone out of his pocket.

"How is it working?" Germany said, startled. "There is no signal here."

The screen of the phone said No Caller ID.

"I don't know." Italy gave a helpless shrug and raised the phone to his ear. "Ciao?"

There was utter silence from the other end. And then suddenly there was a beep.

Whoever had called abruptly hung up.

"What was that about?" Germany asked after a beat of stunned silence.

Italy looked shaken. "I'm not sure. But that note just then - it was a piano key. 'Si' on the fifth octave."

"'Si'?" Germany snorted. "Somebody is playing a joke on you."

"Maybe," Italy muttered. Abruptly, he said: "We should head back to the piano room now. Everybody will be waiting for us."

England entered the room first, scanning every corner warily, and then beckoned for Canada to come in.

England found an ancient light switch and flicked it, ancient light bulbs humming into life with an arthritic slowness.

Canada wandered over to the white piano that occupied the center of the room. He blew the dust off the lid and raised it carefully.

"England!"

The nation in question appeared by his side and frowned down at the keys. Somebody had drawn numbers clumsily onto them in colourful permanent marker.

"Well, that is one way to devalue a good piano," he remarked.

"Could be a clue," Canada suggested quietly. He felt ridiculous for saying it. Clue to what, exactly? People don't leave other people clues on how to get out of their houses. The whole situation was absurd.

But England seemed to take it seriously. "Could be. There's all sorts out there, you know," he added when he saw the look on Canada's face. "Some ghosts like to play silly buggers. Well, we've just got to raise the stakes a little, eh? Play them right back, that kind of thing."

Canada nodded uneasily. He didn't look like he was taking well to the sound of that at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, England thought he caught a flash of grey. It was gone by the time he snapped around.

His heart seemed to temporarily relocate to the pits of his stomach. Neither of them had a weapon. If the creature cornered them in here, it was curtains for the both of them.

"Stay here," England hissed. "Don't move a step, you hear? If the thing comes in here while I'm away, run."

Canada gave a jerky nod. Aside from the way his lips pinched ever so slightly together, there was nothing to suggest he was even remotely unsettled by the situation. Good, England thought approvingly. He had learnt fast.

Canada sat down at the piano when England left the room. He let his fingers play silently over the childish sprays of colour on the keys. Perhaps it was a clue. Now, what country were they in again... oh yes, Indonesia. Did Indonesia have any traditional folk songs? Perhaps the piano was a clue for a password. Maybe there was a back door with a numeric lock somewhere.

He tried to remember Indonesia's national anthem.

Indonesia, for God's sake. America had gone a long way to get them into trouble this time. Canada found himself slipping back into the perpetual sea of frustration dedicated to the subject of America. Couldn't he be more considerate? His recent demands were skipping rope over the boundary between Bloody Stupid and Unbelievable Arrogance-

Canada stopped himself. Getting political was never a good thing. Sometimes it confused him. Was he a person or was he a country? It was hard enough to be one without having to cope with both at the same time. Whoever had come up with the concept of personifications had a very twisted sense of humour indeed.

The door banged against the wall.

"Oh, England," Canada muttered distractedly. "I've got a theory about this-"

He abruptly stopped as an enormous shadow fell over the piano. Very, very slowly, he turned around to face the owner of that shadow.

The monster gazed back at him blankly. Canada froze. Claws the size of small sabers clicked against each other not two feet away from his face. What big claws you have, Grandma! trilled a hysterical voice in the back of his head.

He reached instinctively for the comforting familiarity of Kumadia's fur, only to remember he had left him with the car when the road ended.

Canada wondered dimly why he wasn't lying dead in a puddle of his own blood. His lungs informed him of the fact he wasn't breathing and told him to do something about it, which he failed to do. He remembered a time during the course of the war, when he was trying to fly a plane with both engines down and watching a German warplane, guns blazing, zoom towards him in what had felt like slow motion. Afterwards he had woken up in the headquarters with Britain and Australia hovering around him with bandages and various items of medicinal property, viciously verbally assaulting any human doctor who dared to get too close.

Whatever happened next would be a lot more final.

The monster turned its head a little so it was looking over his right shoulder. It hadn't seen him, Canada realised. But how? He was almost underfoot!

It gave the room one more glance-over, and apparently satisfied there was nobody there, lumbered out of the room.

Canada sagged against the piano and gasped for breath. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as his lungs fought for what they were due. He looked at the entrance again. The creature was gone. He wondered if it was blind. But it hadn't seemed to hear him, either. He'd have to report this to England.

England! Canada rocked to his feet. The monster had gone out of the only exit to the room, and if it had met England coming back from the other way-

Canada bolted for the door and looked wildly around him. The monster was nowhere in sight, but who knew if-

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. Canada jumped, stifling a yell.

"Sweet Jesus, Canada," an irritated voice hissed in his ear. "What's crawled up your trousers?"

Canada stared at England, his mouth half-open. England stared back. "Well?"

"There was a monster. In this room. It - I think it didn't see me, er-"

Pretty soon Canada was letting his mouth run off by itself while his brain watched from a safe distance. England guided him back into the room, still gabbling, and seated him down at the piano.

When he'd finished, England was giving the ceiling a very thoughtful look. It was the same kind of look he had just before the local exorcists suddenly found themselves out of jobs, and ghosts and demons decided to become strictly vegetarian almost overnight. It was the look he had when the cutlass went back onto the mantelpiece still glowing from its repeated passage through multiple concentrations of ectoplasm. Back in the days when England still practiced capital punishment, when he had the Look, it meant going somewhere quiet and secluded to burn off all the bloodied rags he'd used to clean his blade, almost every night.

"Bigger than all the other ones you'd seen so far, eh?" He was still doing the Look. It wasn't a Look that suggested something particularly violent was about to happen, in fact, it didn't suggest anything at all. It was completely and utterly blank, like all his expressions had unanimously decided simply evacuating was a better survival strategy. It was the lack of anything at all that made the Look all the more terrifying.

"Er... yes."

"I see."

England lapsed into silence.

"It didn't see me," Canada tried again. "Perhaps I did something - maybe there's a tactic we can use to become invisible to it."

England snorted. Because he didn't want to hurt Canada's feelings, he did so quietly. The fact that the creature ignored Canada was no surprise by itself. There were a few times during Canada's upbringing when England had almost accidentally decapitated him for an assassin, as the boy as a person had been unobtrusive to the point of invisible even back then. There were grey things clinging to the sides of rocks that were more noticeable than Canada, though he didn't voice this out loud.

"I will look more into it," he promised Canada in an attempt to appease him.

Two figures appeared in the brighter light coming through the doorway. "Ciao," Italy called cheerfully. "Did you find our missing friends?"

"Unfortunately, no," England replied. Italy's grin dimmed a little, although he made an effort to keep it from slipping entirely off his face.

"The Dummkopf brother of mine is probably hiding," Germany grumbled. "They will have found each other by now and are plotting an amusing demise for us."

Italy beamed. "Si! And now we are only waiting for Russia and-"

As if on cue, the sounds of a whispered argument drifted through the doorway. Japan greeted the gathering with an almost apologetic look on the behalf of China and Russia, and made his way to his allies.

"-just saying it might have been able to tell us something, aru!"

"It was annoying," Russia insisted stubbornly. "Either it was going to go or my sanity was."

"What's this?" Germany whispered to Japan.

"Russia destroyed a clock in the room we were in," Japan explained. "China thought it might have been a clue, as clocks left in abandoned mansions normally don't keep working after a decade. As you can see, Russia didn't listen."

His dark eyes shifted to Italy. "Also, the time on our phones synced immediately after the clock was destroyed. So perhaps it was a clue."

Italy blinked under Japan's blank gaze. The older nation's expression promised an interrogation in private later. Japan knew something, or at least suspected something. But whatever it was, he wasn't saying anything.

It was so, so, typically Japan.

As if reading from a script in his head, Italy pulled his phone from his pocket and widened his eyes convincingly in surprise. "Oh, look! My phone says it's 8:42 now. I could have sworn it was three-something earlier."

Germany checked his own mobile and noted the same thing.

"So it was relevant, aru," China said triumphantly. Russia crossed his arms with a petulant look and retreated into a corner.

"Si, but I don't think Russia is wrong in smashing them," Italy said quickly. "If it synced your clocks, it may be a good thing to be rid of them."

This time it was China who crossed his arms and scowled.

"There are coloured numbers marked onto the piano," Canada spoke up quietly. "I wonder if it means something?"

Italy wandered over to the piano and looked down at the keys. "Oh!" he said in surprise. "I forgot to say, I've found the other half of the coloured stripes. This could be linked."

He passed the paper to Canada, who examined it thoughtfully.

All of a sudden, a ringing noise punctured the atmosphere. England cursed, and fumbled for his phone.

"My phone rang earlier, too!" Italy piped up.

"So did mine," Russia said quietly. "All I got was a piano note."

Italy stared at him. "Me too."

England shot them a stare and raised the phone to his ear. "Hello, England speaking."

Beep.

The noise rang through the silent room and wedged itself into everyone's skull.

"Well, I never!" England grouched. "How rude." He put his phone back into his pocket. "It was a re," he told the assembly of staring faces. "Well?"

"I think I see a pattern here," Italy said at last. "Now, I think we need to wait for one more phone call-"

At that moment, Germany's phone hummed into life.